I took off the dressings today and I’m pleased to report that the scar is healing well. I can also exclusively reveal that my left boob (the operated one) is now ever-so-very-slightly bigger than my right one, which is a turn up for the books, if ever there was one. Essentially I’ve had a free boob job before the age of 30, and I still don’t know where the surgeon got the extra fat from. It’s a bit like on New Year’s Day 2001, when I woke up at 2pm by myself in a hotel in Rio de Janeiro with the contents of a first-aid kit and bandages strewn all over the floor and frantically had to search my body for wounds. After several hours of piecing together the clues of my drunken jigsaw, it was revealed that the owner of the bandaged foot was in fact not me, but one of my gap year companions, Tom. People will be starting to wonder why all my major life tales occurred in 2001, but I swear I have done one or two interesting things since then.
I don’t think there can be many surgeons in the world who would agree to make the incision in a specific place on my breast in order to have the least impact possible on my cleavage for any low-cut/open dresses I might wish to wear in future. He has done an absolutely sterling job and I couldn’t be happier with the result.
I managed to go for a very slow walk today, once I was satisfied that my hair was finally clean enough not to frighten the neighbours. I’m not too sure what they thought of me essentially walking around in my pyjamas, though. The ability to walk around in pyjamas in broad daylight without seeing one’s work colleagues is one of the benefits of recuperating in a relatively obscure village in West Yorkshire.
Meanwhile, my Dad’s friend called by to request my now-famous surgical stockings for his lovely wife, who sent me these delicious freshly made cookies in return. (Don’t think you can come around here and get away scot free without a blog mention – I’m only sparing the name-and-shame for the benefit of your dear offspring!)
I am thinking about issuing a no-more-biscuits-until-further-notice warning to give me a little time to get through the backlog. Mind you, with Beth due to visit this weekend, I am sure I will have more than enough help getting through them.
The Alexander/Smith/Trestler family also deserves a mention today for the spectacular timing and coordination of their separate cards and gifts, including this cat balloon, which I am told looks like me.