it never rains but it pours

2011-11-10, 1:45 p.m.
The weird thing about being self-sufficient and a �coper� is that people rarely ask you if you need help and you generally turn it down if they do.

I�d told my sister and my parents that I had to go to hospital today. After a time lag of approximately 24 hours when, presumably my sister had called up my mum and had a good old natter, they both phoned to ask if I�d like them to go with me (�just for the company�) within about a half hour of each other.

As it was just a check up for what my doctor said was a cyst I said I�d be fine and had a bit of a snigger over their fussing. L had a client in the studio this morning and was still in bed when I left so I knew he wasn�t coming with me. Oh, and late last night my dad called and said he would drive me to the hospital from his house (where I�d already arranged to leave my car � parking charges at the hospital are horrific and my parents live only a short walk from where I had to go).

I let dad drive me as it seemed to make him happy but, to be honest, there was really no need.

I had a mammogram � that�s LOADS of fun, if you�ve never had one. If you can imagine having your boobies squished between two cold tea-trays while you hang on to a handy grab-rail and a pleasant (but cold-handed) stranger moves your other boob out of the way of the squisher, then you�ve pretty much cracked it. There�s a vertical, as well as a horizontal, squish so there�s plenty of time to make pointless small talk with the cold-handed stranger � we ruminated on the thought processes involved in inventing a mammogram machine, and laughed quite a bit at my impression of that light-bulb moment �I know! Lets squish em REAL hard between these two metal thingies! Yeh�but we�ll need to have something to hang onto otherwise the patient�ll either fall over or have a free hand with which to punch the boob-handler in the face!�

After that, a bit more of a wait in the waiting room and a bit more of a read of the second bit of Russell Brand�s autobiography then there was an ultrasound thingy, which was pretty much OK as its only like someone rolling a roll-on deodorant over your lubed-up boob, while they watch a bit of grainy black-and-white film footage on a cheap telly.

The only crappy bit is when the doctor turns to you and says, briskly, �Well, it isn�t a cyst.�

My doctor had told me that it WAS a cyst, so the next bit kind of went into slow motion a bit while I digested the information.

Then they shot a load of anaesthetic into the offending boob and, using something that was half staple gun and half fairground grab machine, took a couple of biopsies to send away. Then they stuck me back together with some sticky stitches, covered the whole mess with a plaster and a big thick field dressing, told me to get dressed and said they�d let me know when the results came in (5-7 days).

Then they sent me home. As I came out of the treatment room, I noticed that every other person in the waiting area had someone with them; mum, husband, friend, whatever.

I scuttled out quickly so nobody would see I was on my own � somehow I was a bit ashamed of that. Im not sure why - and walked back to my mum and dads house.

That gave me about 15 minutes to compose my features into a �Im Not Worried At All� expression and I sat and had a coffee with them and chatted about whether or not my cousin�s daughter is older than Treacle (she is) and if I had paid dad for the bottle of whisky he�d got me in Bruges (I had).

Back in the car, I cried all the way home � much to the surprise of two joggers loping across a zebra crossing, who gawped through the windscreen at me as I blubbered.

L phoned school for me and told them that I wouldn�t be back in today but now he�s gone out, probably to the pub, and Im staring into space. Im not going to ask Dr Google about breast lumps and nobody�s saying any words that begin with a �c�, especially not a big one. Statistically speaking, I am aware that it is likely that it will turn out to be something irritating, yet benign, but the next 5 � 7 days are going to be LONNNNNNNG, dear readers.

Now Im going to go and have another little cry, if that�s alright with you.

Later
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