Lazy Sunday afternoon

or maybe not...
Forgive me, readers, for I have neglected you - it's been eight days since my last posting.
I haven't felt much like it, as well as having not much to tell. Still out of work, no car so trapped in the house, and no hospital appointments, which I couldn't have got to anyway as we had an apparently unprecedented level of snow! I went out for a few walks to try and keep the muscles working, and I have to say that snow on the beach is a bit freaky. I did venture out (chauffeused by dear Mother-in-law) for an interview in a beautiful place which was covered in snow and thus even more beautiful than usual - fingers crossed for me please, I would quite like that particular gig!
My domestic goddess activity failed a bit (ok, a very big bit) this week... partly because it's difficult to be a domestic goddess with an audience - the snow trapped DH in the house for much of the week as his site foreman was snowed in and there would have been nobody to open the site even if he'd gone - and a 70 mile journey in the weather we had would have been a bit traumatic even in the 2CV. But mostly it was because I didn't feel terribly goddess-like anyway, so domestic activity was restricted to feeding the breadmaker every other day and sitting in bed with a book and saying "bleurgh" and "meh" when disturbed.
The reason for my inability to face the world and function in any normal manner is - get this - an itchy boob. I know, I know, trivial, if that is that the worst of my problems then I am blessed, yadda yadda blah blah... I hope you never have to try it. Remember that I have a scar that starts right in the middle of my armpit and ends with a neat circuit of my nipple. Every half inch or so on that scar there is a stitch. These are supposed (according to my Lovely Breast Care Nurse) to be soluble and the ends should drop off of their own accord... well so far they ain't showing much effort in that direction. The stitches are tied off in a knot (I believe there is a special magic surgeon knot for this purpose!) and then the ends trimmed. To about a quarter of an inch. The stuff is like a heavy duty fishing line... so every half inch along this scar under my arm and round my nipple, there are bits of stiff plastic wire sticking out. The end effect is like having barbed wire in my bra, and it's not nice. The ends stick into the fabric of whatever I am wearing, and so if I move in relation to the clothing the stitches get pulled. Only for a split second, but boy do I know about it. If I wear a loose shirt, then the bits sticking out of my side which don't have any fabric to catch on tend to stick into the underside of my arm. Now much of that flesh is still pretty numb, but it does recognise having barbed-wire's baby sibling dragged along it. In truth the whole thing is pretty miserable. I called the Breast Unit and Lovely BCN said that the best they can do is trim the ends down a bit, or I could ask the local surgery nurse to do this for me - the stitches have to be left until they fall out. I really didn't see the point of bothering a nurse, so handed the tiniest, sharpest scissors I own to DH and let him go to work. Having the long ends trimmed has certainly helped the problem, but not fixed it, as the knot and the body of the stitch is still there, so now I am back to wearing a dressing over the scar and slathering the whole lot in aloe vera to try and soothe it a bit.
Small issue, big effect on my temper, hence the big rant. Thank you for listening.

When I called Lovely BCN, I also had a few other questions which I had forgotten to ask on the Friday when I saw the Great Man... I shouldn't be allowed to go to these appointments on my own as I never remember what I want to ask...
Firstly - what is the timescale for the referral to the oncologist for the radiotherapy? Answer - who knows? If I haven't already got an appointment for next week then it won't be before the end of the year, as he's disappearing at the end of next week for the rest of the month. Also, the radiotherapy unit at the Sussex Cancer Centre is so busy that their waiting list is at least four to six weeks, so it could be getting on for three months before I get the radiotherapy. Not Good. I need a couple more weeks to get more movement in my battered arm, and for the scar to heal properly, but three months is a long time. However, hope appeared in the form of a private radiotherapy facility just outside Portsmouth, and it seems the NHS is referring patients there (and picking up the tab) as they can't cope with the demand. Now I still pay the health insurance, and I am sure that they will pay for the radiotherapy if I can get referred by the oncologist. However, short of waiting outside the hospital to ambush him I still have to wait for an appointment to get that referral. It's all a bit frustrating. Since I have had the chemo, and the surgery seemed to have removed all the cancer, there is no clinical problem with the delay - but it's the last phase and I Just Want To Get On With It...
Secondly, what about the pain clinic referral? I am taking these pregabalin tablets, but I don't know how long I am supposed to take them for, and how I will know that they're doing any good? There was a glib remark about "if you have no pain", which wasn't too helpful, as they aren't doing anything for the "ordinary" pain at all, I thought they were supposed to do something about the numbness and the weird stabbing pain in my arm which I believe is a result of the cut brachial nerve... Anyhow, Lovely BCN went off to ask the Great Man, who apparently slapped himself upon the head, which we infer means that he forgot and will do something about it... Fingers crossed, I will ring and nag if I don't hear by mid week.
(I wish I could type BCN without having a strange image of Lovely Breast Care Nurse on the Birmingham Canal Navigations...)

Meanwhile, back in the saner and less obsessed world...
DH went back to the bike shop. He sat in the chair. He got up again (this doesn't happen often) without signing anything! He's still trying to find a way to make a deal which will make everyone happy, but hasn't got there yet. It's a free listing weekend on Ebay, so there might be a really shiny Royal Enfield for sale there by this afternoon... it's really really pretty! and if it doesn't go, he can't have the shiny red Ducati, and neither can I. And actually, I have always wanted a shiny Ducati, ever since I fell in love with a yellow 600 Monster the day after I passed my bike test - but that's another story...
Not entirely sure why we always seem to buy bikes when it's snowing... when we bought the Enfield he rode it home through snow, and I found the original receipt for my bike yesterday, dated 5th Jan (not telling you what year!)...

After the failure of my retail therapy last week, my attention was drawn by the lovely Lisa to Pink Ribbon Lingerie, a new supplier of undergarments for ladies who have had breast surgery ("Mastectomy Wear" sounds so clinical) - and lo and behold! They have a soft bra with no seams down the side, designed specifically for post-op wear. Not cheap, but I don't care! I also discovered that if I could declare that I have had a mastectomy or lumpectomy (which I have, as I am sure you remember!) I get to buy it free of VAT... hurrah, there is a benefit to the surgery after all. What? oh yeah, the not dying thing... yeah, ok, I guess that counts as a benefit as well.

Right. Must get on. A week of domestic goddess duties to catch up on...