Having spent two hours at the NHS's pleasure on Saturday afternoon I though I had paid my dues for a while. No. By last night the swelling was back, bigger than before, pushing harder on the scar and making it very difficult to get comfortable at all. The crowning glory of this was that at about half eleven I attempted to roll over in bed and felt an intensely painful ripping sensation in my lower chest below the collection of fluid. OK. Ian, we're off to Stoke. He was unimpressed to say the least and tried to persuade me that I was going to be fine, could we just go in the morning and he made a bet with me that the Breast nurse would phone at 8 in the morning.
I was not to be convinced and demanded to be taken in. Apologies to Wina for hauling her out of bed and across the yard so she could babysit - we did get the spare room ready for you and I think if you had known you would be sitting at the kitchen table for three hours you may have taken us up on it!!!
Yes. Three hours.
Sharing the waiting area with the usual collection of people (Ian was with me but was fast asleep - at least he got some sleep poor boy) but with the exciting addition of a man who had a bandaged hand covered in blood, with a very red face from pepper spray and sporting a very natty pair of metal bracelets!! Now. I know nothing of why he was in there - apart from the obvious bloody bandage - but is it no wonder there are never any policemen around when it takes two of them to sit for hours on end in A&E with one suspect. No. I am not in any way saying that he shouldn't get treatment and I would be the first to complain if, to save time, he was seen quickly to release the police back out but it does seem a waste of resources. However this is not to say I can think of an alternative.
Apart from the excruciating wait to be seen - it wasn't even busy in there (well, not from what I could see) I ended up with exactly the same surgeon as I had two days previously, although this time, luckily, he was actually doing the job himself rather than letting someone else use me for target practice.
He was definitely more confident in his approach to the subject, and more efficient.
Right up until he nicked my chest wall with the needle.
At least he had the good grace to apologise profusely and be very conciliatory.
This did not stop him once again asking me if I could put my arm above my head.
No. I couldn't do it two days ago and no, I still can't now. At least this time he believed me instead of trying to lift it himself. Maybe he is learning... I have no intention of going back again to find out. I am seriously hoping - although not hopeful - that it won't swell up again. Apart from the discomfort, it is boring sitting there for hours.
Even with a good book. And time with Ian. Even if he was asleep. Honestly, anyone would think he suffered from a weird as yet undiscovered illness that causes the sufferer to fall deeply asleep whenever they enter a hospital. No matter why we are there, waiting in A&E, being monitored, giving birth, he falls asleep in a chair.
I'm just jealous.
So after only two and a half hour's sleep I am looking forward to a day of doing nothing today.
Apart from thinking of ways to apologise to my husband who, and it hurts to say this, was right.
The Breast Nurse rang at 7.50 this morning.
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