Today, My Guy drove me, El Cysto, El Nino, and Antoine the TBD Breast Lump through a foot of snow to go get our aspiration and biopsy on.
Now, not to brag, but ...
If growing cysts were an Olympic sport? I would totally be a gold medalist. And the peoples would carry me on their shoulders through the streets, causing my cyst-laden boobies to bounce painfully.Between El Cysto and El Nino, the doctor removed 75 cc's of liquid.
That's a third of a cup of liquid that was stretching my skin and generally just being a bitch. And the cysts kept refilling while they were being aspirated. Like, the doctor, the tech, and I were all laughing because it was so absurd. And if I didn't laugh, I would cry hysterically. If the cysts just never stop refilling, my initial idea to just live with them doesn't seem to be doctor-approved. I would have to have the cysts surgically removed.
Dude. I'm fucking getting married. Fat fucking chance.
And then Antoine? He's still of unknown origin. They poked around and finally vacuumed him out.
Seriously. For a moment, I thought that I should have totally been like Dalton in Roadhouse and been all, "Pain don't hurt" and do it myself with the trusty 30-year-old Electrolux. Surely there's an attachment for this, right?
But I was already there, so I just let the doc do it. Then, they inserted a piece of titanium into Antoine's former home, so they can track it via mammogram. Then the tech wiped all the blood and goo off of my chest, wrapped me in an ace bandage, and sent me home.
I made My Guy stop on the way home so I could get a cheeseburger and fries. For someone who hardly ever eats meat, I have an alarming track record of requiring burgers when faced with health challenges.
So I got a week's worth of sodium from one convenient meal, went home, and went to bed. One of the doxies smells like fish, and the labradoodles are tracking snow everywhere. I have to wear the bandage for 24 hours, and I'm supplementing my much-needed Tylenol with much-needed red wine. But mostly? Mostly, I'm relieved, and exhausted. And really tired.
But it's the exhaustion of a champion.
Mark Spitz and his bitchin' 'stache courtesy of si.com.
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9 comments:
Oh my, this is what I get for being in my own little crazy corner of the world for a few days. I am so sorry you've had to go through all of this, and at this time. Hang in there! Sending retroactive health vibes your way, in spades.
Praying for you!
Glad to hear they got Antoine out...... you are strong and you can do this. Sounds like you have great support. Still rounding up good ju-ju and sending your way.
I'm so relieved to hear that they got Antoine out. He was just nasty. And those other two? They need to stop be over achievers.
Way to go, Champion!
Glad you got through this (and will keep sending good vibes that Antoine is just a harmless little joker).
As for Mark Spitz, don't know about the bitchin' 'tache, what about those bitchin' Speedos?
PS Word verification = logshak, which sounds like a place in the forest, deep in snow - an ideal place to go and get some R&R with Your Guy!
Glad to hear all is well. Sending good health thoughts your way. And who hasn't been tracking snow all over the house? It's been that kind of winter. Thanks for keeping us updated. Hope you and your guy have a wonderful weekend. You both deserve it.
Ugh. I'm glad they took care of you. That's not a good thing to be so accomplished at--growing cysts. Praying for you, Cha Cha.
(My retinas still burn from that photo you posted)
i missed sending you good vibes! i even missed your 24 hours of ace bandage wrappage (that must have been FUN)!
i hope things are feeling a little brighter. i hope you have had much good snuggling in the snowy weather.
take care of yourself. i am praying for you.
I am long overdue for a visit...particularly because I think you are one of the funniest writers I read. Your humor speaks to me. I am sorry to hear about this bastard Antoine and I hope is ass is moving out and moving on.
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