“Hello,” my plastic surgeon says, popping his head round the door, his face lit up by his huge smile.
“Hello,” I say.
“How are you doing?” He says, perching on the edge of my bed which creaks: he’s a portly gentleman.
“Not too bad,” I say. “In a lot of pain, but my chest shape looks nice and I can move my arm, which is great.”
“Amazing stuff: that pig mesh,” he says. “Hear you’ve been walking up and down the corridors and…”
“I’ve done my physio exercises four times per day,” I say.
“Well done,” he says. “Let’s have a look at that drain then.”
Lifting up my top, exposing the drain site, he looks at the bottle and the broken airlock: it’s popped out of itself – a green accordion inflated.
“This one can come out,” he tells the nurse.
Flinching, I turn away from him. “That hurts,” I say, remembering.
“We’ll leave the others for the moment,” he says. “You’re doing well.”
“Is it time for any more painkillers,” I say. “Haven’t had any for hours and…”
“We’ll get you some before we cut this tube out,” the nurse says.
It hurts. A lot.
Waking up at 5am, here’s this morning’s discomfort rundown:
1. Left arm and underarm where nodes have been removed.
2. Itching all over self – especially under bandages.
3. Soreness at 3 drain sites on left side.
4. Searing pain all around edges of left boob where operation was.
5. Tummyache: constipation again.
6. Sore foot where canula has come out.
Soon a parental will visit, I hope. Lily later and then my Seb this evening. Yay!
Attached photo is Violet. She’s a new person who has just arrived from MadeByMaggie.
Happy Friday everyone!
*2004. By Arnaldur Indridason. Number 6 in the Inspector Erlendur mystery series.