December 24th
“Are you looking forward to Christmas then,” the receptionist asks me.
AM I LOOKING FORWARD TO CHRISTMAS? Is she for fucking real? I’m standing at the reception desk of the breast clinic on Christmas Eve. Oddly, I’d not really had much head space to even think about the joys of Christmas with the biggest lump known to man festering away inside my boob.
“No,” I replied in an incredulous tone. I’ve always been truthful but when you’re faced with the scary prospect of the dreaded C you somehow seem to care even less about what you say or how you deliver it.
He says, “You have a lump” whilst drawing on my boob with a black pen!! “No shit,” I say, “that’s why I’m here.”
The waiting area was overcrowded, to say the least, and we had struggled to find somewhere to sit. Men and women of all ages, faces with all different states of expression; all of them probably really looking forward to Christmas too!!!!
Forms completed, questions including family deaths from cancer…happy days. We wait. Reading the posters on the wall about hair loss, numbers to ring with questions. Christ. “Am I looking forward to Christmas?”
The nurse calls us through and we meet Mr. A the consultant. Nice enough chap but he seems to have a penchant for stating the obvious. After my inspection, he says, “You have a lump” whilst drawing on my boob with a black pen!! “No shit,” I say, “that’s why I’m here.” He must have had to go through this process with people who have a lump and have been referred to the hospital time after time after time, you’d have thought he might be able to muster up something a little more considered.
Sorry, I’m ranting, aren’t I? Let me introduce myself, my name’s Vicki. I’ve been on the planet for 46 years and I run a successful business. I’ve been a single parent of two fabulous boys for 14 years (paid for everything, parented them single-handedly), I have a fantastic and hectic social life, have been blessed in many, many ways AND I can front out virtually any situation. I am a battler. But it’s funny how a process like this can tip me to uncontrollable eye leakage and because I don’t cry very often when I start it’s almost impossible for me to stop.
Three Little Words 