So the week rolls along. Not fast enough for me. I’m looking forward to Wednesday like a spoiled, rich kid looks forward to Christmas morning. We’ve arranged appointments to ensure I don’t have to endure the evil metal meat skewer for even one minute longer than necessary. I definitely didn’t want to spend the long Thanksgiving weekend, which included my daughter’s soccer tournament, in pain. And the flies buzzing around my head are getting annoying. Plus, lots of people were coming over for Thanksgiving. I usually cook the entire meal, which I wasn’t going to do this year. Everybody was pitching in. The Best Husband thought it would be too much for me. But I needed it. I needed some kind of normalcy back in my life. So while I was very tired Thanksgiving evening, it was a really great day. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Wednesday (Nov 23rd), The Best Husband drives me to the LAST radiation appointment. We brought along some snacks so I could take a pain pill before going to the surgeon for removal of the BD (evil metal meat skewer). I distinctly remembered what it felt like when it was inserted. The pain pills made me ill but since I have no idea what it’s going to feel like when it is removed, I wasn’t taking any chances. I refused to take another pain pill after that last one. I don’t see how people get addicted to them. They make me feel like crap.
I head to the back for the last CT scan. Thankfully the arm pit stench doesn’t knock me out. Then the short walk to the room where Carl hooks up my octopus arms. The last time the little mouse will leave his house on a cheese hunt. I’m a little sad. I’m happy to be done, but then the people here are so nice. And it’s not like the radiation itself has been all that bad. By the 10th treatment, I can feel a little pinching and burning when the mouse is hunting for his cheese, but it’s not pain I can’t handle. Oh, hell. What am I thinking? I’m so happy to be done I could do the happy dance in the lobby, naked. I’m also ecstatic that the evil metal meat skewer and the incredibly comfortable, hip mesh bra will soon be history. If I could burn the bra, I would. Carl and I exchange our daily “I’m stepping out…I’ll wait here for you” routine. Ten minutes, I’m done. I take off my real cloth gown for the last time, he gives me the key to the evil metal meat skewer (so the device can be closed before removal), and I head out to the lobby where The Best Husband is waiting.
It’s a short drive to the surgeon’s office. Along the way, I take the hated pain pill. We arrive with too much time to spare. So we sit in the car, waiting for the pain pill to kick in. With still too much time to spare, we walk into the building where we sit on a bench, waiting for the pain pill to kick in. Finally we decide to just go into the office. Who cares that we’re early. It’s the day before Thanksgiving. Maybe they’ll be happy we’re early. I’m still waiting for the pain pill to kick in. At least the pain pill isn't making me sick.
We’re taken to a room within minutes. As it turns out, they are happy we’re early. I put on the paper shirt made to fit Walmart boobs, lie down on the table, and wait. The head nurse (chick in charge) quickly comes in, also glad we’re early. She should be home cooking, she says, but she stayed late so she could remove the evil metal meat skewer. So nice of her. The Best Husband hands her the key. “I’m so ready to get this thing out of me,” I say. I tell her to cut the mesh bra off. NOW. She’s like, I was going to market this thing as a wonderful new piece of lingerie. You don’t like it? Hell no. I hate it. Snip, snip. Thank GOD. I’m FREE from the incredibly comfortable and hip mesh bra. Not really. It’s scratchy and dirty. My nipples stick through the mesh holes. It doesn’t really provide much support for my twelve pound bowling balls. I hate it. With a passion.
The CIC closes the evil metal meat skewer with the key. The Best Husband asks if he can have it. He wants to hang it on the Christmas tree. A new ornament for our collection. Yikes. The CIC looks at him like he’s insane. Personally, I don’t think it would look good hanging from the Christmas tree. And it’s probably radioactive anyway. While I’m thinking about the Christmas ornament idea, it doesn’t even register that she just pulled the evil metal meat skewer out. Hey, that didn’t even really hurt. The CIC puts it into a biohazard bag. Guess it won’t be hanging on the Christmas tree this year after all. Suddenly, I feel warm liquid running down my neck, into my ear, down my side, etc. I’m like….um, what is that? The CIC is grabbing towels and trying to mop up the liquid. It’s serum she says. Not uncommon for this to build up in the surgical site around the evil metal meat skewer. Not to worry, she says. Seconds later, she’s pushing on my boob….more like milking me. Trying to get all the serum out. That was weird. I ask if someone is going to sew up the gaping hole in my boob where the evil metal meat skewer was sticking out. No, she says, it will fill in and close up on its own. Really? I’m thinking, have you seen the hole? It’s akin to the Grand Canyon. No way this thing is going to close up on its own. If it does, it isn’t going to be pretty. Well, if there’s any consolation, at least it will match the Bride of Frankenstein scars. The CIC gets me all cleaned up, tapes a sterile bandage over the hole, and tells me I can get dressed. YES! A real bra! Well, not a real bra. It’s a no-wire sports bra. But anything is better than that &%#$&#?& mesh bra. Did I tell you I hate it?
The Best Husband and I walk out to the car. I feel so much better. It’s amazing how good I feel. No more pain when I move. I don’t even have to hold the pillow up against my chest during the drive home. It’s everything I thought it would be, and more. I can’t wait to get home. My first order of business? A shower! You don’t realize how much you miss doing something until you can’t do it anymore. These flies have got to go.
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