Revenge of the Breast
No kidding, my breast is now making noises. It sounds a lot like groaning and whining. It actually woke me up this morning. Not many people can say their breast woke them up with its carrying-on! I feel like whispering, "Hey, can you keep it down?" With my luck, I'll go out and in the middle of talking, someone will say, "Alix! Alix! I can't hear you over your breast!"
But, you know, if any one of my body parts has the right to groan and whine, it's my breast. Poor thing must think I have it in for it, what with the FNA and the surgery and all. I think it deserves my sympathy.
Ironically, sympathy is what has led me to find a way to tend to the wound without getting grossed out. Yes, here comes a Crazy Lady Tip for Breast Cancer PatientsTM:Talk to your breast like it was a small child or, in my mind, a tabby kitten. "Oh, poor baby, it's okay, I'll take care of it. This will be just fine and you'll feel better in just a moment, sssshhhh..."
Seriously, it works! No grossing out. I came up with this when I reflected on the fact that I would not be squeamish if I was taking care of someone else's wound. Yet here I was, practically breathing into a crumpled paper bag while tending to my own. So, why not make this not about me?
Whatever works!
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