“So, I was wondering whether it would be possible to have the operation quite soon,” I say. Am sitting with Mum in the plastic surgeon’s office. The panther sits on the floor next to my chair, swishing his tail.
“Let’s have a look at your chest then,” my plastic surgeon says.
Going behind the curtain, I take off my top.
“The skin still looks a bit red to me,” he says, looking concerned. “And it still feels hot. You had a bad reaction to the radiotherapy – the skin was as red as a beetroot. When did the treatment finish?”
“At the end of February,” Mum says.
“I think we need to wait another couple of months,” he says.
“The sooner I have the surgery, the sooner I can heal from it and reclaim my fitness,” I say, putting my top back on, feeling defeated.
“Well I think we’re looking at the end of August,” he says. “Six months after the end of radiotherapy should be about right and…”
“But that’s ages,” I say.
“I’ll see you mid-August,” he says.
“The thing is,” I say, facing him across the desk. “My mood is very low at the moment and it would be a good time to lie in hospital, watching television and…I’m spending all my time crying and…”
“Well you don’t want to be in hospital if you’re crying all the time,” he says.
“The morphine would make me feel better,” I say. A massive operation seems a small price to pay to score some more opiates, I think.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” he says. “I think you should go home and have a glass of wine and some supper.”
So we do.
On the plus side: have achieved the ECG today, so that’s something. Will see psychiatrist tomorrow to show him the ECG result. Let’s hope he’s satisfied that my heart is OK to start on Latuda.
Still not sleeping but make it to Spin today. One of my Spin friends has returned from injury, so it’s great to have her back. Even manage a small bike ride with Dad for the first time in weeks.
Attached photo is today’s Spin outfit.
Happy Friday everyone!
*1989. By Carl Hiaasen. Detective novel containing a corrupt plastic surgeon.