On the low table that sat between rows of blue chairs were various magazines. The magazines were mainly about golf, Bugattis and living in Sussex.
This was the breast clinic, OK?
There was one copy of Grazia that hadn't been touched. I read it in five minutes. Kate Moss appeared about 15 times. Pearl Lowe (do I care? Er, no...) was in a feature about being bad and then being good, and the handbags du jour were stupidly expensive.
Anyway, they're cutting the thing out from under my armpit. A local anaesthetic, a bit of snipping and stitching, and it should be OK. It doesn't look sinister, so that's obviously brilliant, but they'll check to make sure.
S took the morning off to go with me – excellent as my stress levels have been sky high (my blood pressure, however, was remarkably low, probably due to exercise – hurrah!). But my head hurts when it is stroked.
hey mell d, this is all horrible for you to go through - i wish you well.
ReplyDeleteps. had to google Bugatti, never heard of it!
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Thanks, my lovely.
ReplyDeleteNever rains but it pours... as well we know from our poor old gardens, eh?
I think those magazines must have been courtesy of a consultant!
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At times like these a lot of crappy magazines are essential, I think.
ReplyDeleteYou sound very brave, my dear. Good wishes from the edge for strength and healing.
Greetings, dear Signs. And thank you muchly for your wishes from the edge.
ReplyDelete