The Draining Lake*

“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:

Painventory 

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.

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