A few days after the diseased breast had been removed I called for the night nurse to come and help me out of bed to go to the toilet.
I'm in a private hospital where most women I had met had had cosmetic breast surgery and I'm the only one there at that time who had a mastectomy.
The night nurse who had just come on duty appeared to be quite short with me, telling me that I needed to help myself if I wanted full recovery quicker. I wanted to tell her to eff off but I didn't coz I really needed to get to the freaking toilet without too much pain!
Anywho the next night I call the same nurse into the bathroom to help me unwrap the bandages before a shower. She arrives more relaxed and as we unravel the bandages together I deliberately look away and stop talking.
Even in silence I hear her pity.
With my hand over my mouth for fear of screaming, for the first time I force myself to look at myself. Life could be so very cruel. I had never given my breasts too much thought and had taken it for granted that I would have them for life. Now I was looking at a deformed breast and I was totally and utterly devastated and I was embarrassed. I cried while my nurse held me and consoled me for a while.
January 2008
The first time I was admitted to hospital I had a lovely Tongan nurse who one night while completing my 'obs' asked me in her very thick accent, 'how many tids do you have?'.
Taken aback I wasn't sure if it was a trick question and how to answer her. Did I say that I have one real tit and one fake tit or that I have 1.5 tits because I havn't completed my injections for my implant yet?
Fortunately I was still thinking of how to answer her when she then proceeded to then ask me, 'how old are your tids?'
OMG did I feel like a right ass when I realised that she was asking me 'how many KIDS did I have have not how many TITS did I have??!!!
June 2008
For radiotherapy I have 2 young male nurses who attend to me each day.
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