That’s what my day in hospital revealed. My fears did not materialised. Blocked milk ducts and cysts. Nothing to worry about.
Except that going in, no matter how much you don’t want to worry, you do. Because how many people go in thinking “this will never happens to me” end up leaving the hospital with a major fight to take on? I’m not much of a Debbie Downer but I’m also aware that those things doesn’t just happen to “other people”. Mind you, getting my breast checked out by what feels like an army of nurses and Drs wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I was reminded by a good friend that while to me, it’s personal, to them, it’s just work.
So I did a battery of tests, there’s only the results from those sent to the lab that we’re waiting for but, in theory, I’m all good. Pregnancy changed my boobs, so my left one is now at least a cup bigger than the right one. I was told, in passing, that if it was upsetting me, I could always get cosmetic surgery to even them out. Errr thank you, but no thank you. I’m sure I’ll get over my lopsided breasts. I was more concerned about the lump and the minor oozing (probably left over milk).
I am mighty relieved, grateful for the hospital staff who were all lovely and reassuring throughout. And understanding when I explained about my needlephobia (which is no picnic when you need a needle going into your breast to collect cells and stuff! Hard not to look… The trick is to think happy thoughts. My happy thoughts always took me to the latest tricks Oscar’s learnt over the weekend: waving hands in a “wax on, wax off” motion.
So that’s pretty much it. I should get the final results next week. They asked if I wanted to come for a chat with a consultant or if a letter would suffice. I said that since it seemed that all was well a letter would suit me fine, but if, and that’s a big if, something was wrong, then I’d rather see a consultant again.
I’m going to assume as is well and not think about it anymore. Might treat myself to some new bras and perhaps some chicken fillets to even things out.
In the meantime, make sure you check your breasts. It’s always better to be safe rather than sorry.
Oh and that’s the delicious pasta dish I had in the hospital restaurant