I was this close......

So close.  Thought I was done, finished, and looking at this crap in the rearview mirror.  Apparently I have more to learn.  And I swear I did not say “now what” or “what next” or even “this could be worse.”  Nothing; nada.   Here’s the lowdown…

            Sunday, I started hurting around where the surgery took place—my right boob—yes, there—I said it; boob, the right one.  Probably should have named it but I didn’t.  So boob it is.  I knew I was retaining fluid in there as Dr N and I had talked about it and while it is normal, he told me to make an appointment with Dr Lynn anyway seeing as I had not seen her in months.    (Little did I know one week later I would be sitting on an exam table staring her in the eyes and bitching about the size of the needle she was going to use on me).   I digress… anyway, back to Monday.  I woke up and while I didn’t feel great, I was not worried.  I was off and although I had a few things on my agenda, I thought I was in the clear.   However, as I sat in a church meeting, I realized I was going downhill fast.   I still had a 2:00pm dentist appointment I really wanted to make. (I know, wanting to make a dentist appointment seems crazy, but he was going to fix 2 teeth).   As I left the meeting, I knew I had to take my temperature.  Remember those 3 thermometers I was attached to?  Well, took me 10 minutes to find only one.  Figures.  By this time I am chilled and getting a wee bit pissy.  I take my temp and it is 100.8 and since I run a degree low—it was really 101.8.  It took me a minute to figure out who I had to call and it was not Susan.  So I called Dr Lynn’s office as my boob was hurting, red and more than likely infected.  As always, I left a message.  This is not a complaint, I have to do this with all my doctors and they call me back promptly.  I figured I had enough time to take a shower to warm up and then hit the dentist.  (And yes, for those wondering why I would go to the dentist with a temp, I called and was told I would be fine.)  No call so I started out to the dentist. I hit Four Corners and they call me—I tell her the basics and the appointment maker makes an appointment for next Tuesday.  I tell her I need to see Dr Lynn by tomorrow.  She switches me to the office where I am told get down there now—Dr Lynn is off but Michelle (her PA) is there.  I mentioned the dentist and she just said get down here.  And I thought Susan was rough.  I went straight down there. 

            Michelle is awesome and to be honest, I was glad to see her.  She is a sweet as Dr Lynn is, well, anyway. She takes a look, is immediately concerned and says she has to aspirate it, but wants to talk to Dr Lynn first.  She makes the call and was back in 3 minutes telling me how special I must be as the doctor herself was coming in on her day off to aspirate the sucker.  I should have known.  That woman loves to inflict pain on me.  She acts really, really nice and concerned and then goes in for the kill—Portia is all I need to say.  She looks at my boob and says oh my—as she is getting this really big needle out.  I say no way in hell and she jut grins and says yes way.  But have no fear, you will be numb.  Great, lovely, oh joy and oh shit went through my head.  I did tell her she came in to joyfully inflict pain.  I think she laughed.

            The numbing stuff really did work and she knew it (the needle for the numbing is much smaller, but with the pain I was in—hurt like hell. Michelle, being the sweet one in the practice, held my hand and I did not cry.  Thought about it, but why give anyone fuel for a fire). Dr Lynn knows me well enough to where she told me not to even think of yelling that hurts as she had put enough numbing medicine in there.  She then proceeds to pull out over 100ccs of fluid out of my poor boob.  She promises I will feel better.  She gives me antibiotics and tells me to take Advil around the clock and she will see me Thursday morning at 9:30am.  I am out the door. 

             I did this all on my own as Mom was on her way back from Wilmington and I did not think I was going to feel as bad as I did.  I made a few calls and then called her.  She was good and I did not tell her it hurt like hell.  I saved that for later.  I really thought about not going on the prayer chain—and for those of you who did get it—notice I never said boob-- then I realized more prayers would never hurt. 

            Later Monday night, I took off the bandage from where she inflicted that huge needle and although it hurt like hell (see the pattern) my boob had deflated like a bicycle tire.  Seriously?   I had to laugh as there was not much else I could do.  I called Billy and he said to relax, it would be fine.  Speaking of Billy, I mentioned to Dr Lynn my plans for this weekend were to go to Charlotte.  She said she doubted she would let me go as she did not want me far from her and she was on call this weekend.  I told her I would be staying will Bill.  She said “your brother does not need to see your tit”.  Good point.  Unless a miracle happens, I will be staying home. 

            She lied to me as she said it would get better and while I will be grinning when I gleefully point that out—which I most certainly will—I know she is going to be concerned.  I am actually concerned.  Something I really have not been these past months and that does bother me.  Maybe because I thought the worst was over with and all I had to deal with was my hair.  Or maybe because although I have been tired, I have been feeling better and better each day.  I just don’t know. But I do know I am in good hands--God's and that nutty surgeon whom he gave a very special talent to and who will do anything to make sure I am in good health.

 

PS...  Mae Ling had taken pity and is sticking around for a bit and I am back to Gold Child status.  Always look at the positive!