"Don't be brave"

A busy week:

Monday: MRI scan on lumbar and breasts

Wednesday: impromptu biopsy and breast coil implantation

Thursday: Blood tests and bone scan

Friday: Chemotherapy

 

The tandem was parked outside King's College Hospital today.  It is a metaphor: I am not alone; I am being carried; I do not need to steer; I do not need to look ahead; I just need to keep turning the pedals.

I have met a fabulous nurse.  She works in the breast unit and trained in a different age than this one.  She is made of stern stuff. The way she has applied my dressings lets me know just how caring and professional she is.  Today she took my hand, "Don't even think of being brave".

I was called in early this morning for an additional biopsy. Pathologists need to determine whether I am Her2 positive.  The last biopsy wasn't helpful and they needed another.  The doctors have also decided to put a coil inside the alien so that when the chemotherapy burns her to dust, they will know where she came from and  where to operate.

I am young and I have firm breast tissue.  The doctors have insisted on calling my breasts "tough", but I have advised them that "firm" is a more appropriate term. They  have trouble putting a wide needle into me.  Last time she gave up and used a small one.  This time she couldn't make a mistake.  "Fill me up with local!" I begged, "you can do what you like but I don't want to feel it".

After she was done with the cutting and the pushing and the pulling, she had two good samples to send to the pathology lab.  She was pleased.

"You're tough", she said.  

"I know that, you've told me before".  

"No honey, you're tough."