The Top top radiologist

I have slept well and worked hard. I feel loved by DH and supported by the few friends and family who are "in the know" at this stage. Serenity sits upon me like a luxuriously comforting shawl.

I'm probably weird, but I have thought about torture. I knew from at least my mid teens that if anyone put anything under my thumbs I would make up the truth if I had to. My PS know that although they find it soothing to stroke my fingernails when holding my hand, I find it very disturbing. I become queasy, and my skin crawls and my toes spread out when I see belly buttons or eyebrows pierced, and in fact the sight makes me want to tell the person The Truth straight away!

So I returned on Friday 28th to the glamour offices. After a short wait with a nervous little plump older lady dressed in turquoise, who I just knew was there for the same reason, the SA radiologist (Susan) came to fetch me. Susan from South Africa looked a bit like my sister Wendy (thin and blonde) and had my other sister's name.She organised me (t's up again) on the bed and pointed out my own tv screen. Thanks for that. In answer to my question, Susan said it would hurt, and that there was a "lot of pathology in my breasts" . The top top radiologist came in, putting on her snappy blue gloves, followed by the pathologist, called Peter, who came in looking at the ceiling. then set himself up with his back to us all. I swear he didn't see a thing.

Armed with the longest needle I've ever seen the TTR explained what she would do. "I'm going to start with him", she said pointing to the right breast. "Him?" "Yes, all breasts are boys and all prostates are girls" So now you all know.

As Susan scanned me and found the cyst in the right breast, the TTR took aim, Susan held my wrist with her free hand. Now this may sound strange, but all 4 of us began discussing paid for view surgery (something a mainland doctor was proposing to do to raise funds for the floods). "it would be useful if the patient could claim the money to pay for the surgery" I said as cloudy fluid (rather a lot I thought) filled the syringe. I stopped talking after that.

Now Charlie on the left was going to require more than just a long needle, but TTR started with that as they needed to get "debris material from the ducts". I resisted torture. I did not reveal the truth. I cried instead.

Susan held my hand and squeezed.

The next event, the TTR explained, would require me to not flinch, or jerk if I could possibly help it. She then described that what she would do would feel and sound like I was being shot with a staple gun. Four times. I cried on silently and kept still. I prayed as Susan held my hand, and patted a bit. I don't usually pray for myself until after an event or trouble, but I realised that He knew I wanted my Mommy and/ or my sisters, so he gave me Susan from South Africa as a reminder that He cares. It would have been rude not to pray and say thanks.

Moving right along, the pathologist announced that he had enough material and the TTR folded up all her stuff to be disposed of. As she snapped off her gloves I apologised for crying. She patted me maternally, and said I was a very good girl, and I had done very well. "is it bad?" I asked her. She knelt down beside the bed and took my hand. "Yes,  I'm pretty sure it is, especially in the left breast, the right one may be alright, but we will know by Monday afternoon or Tuesday.