My saroma (in the place of my left breast) has now grown to the size of its real twin.
Yet I’ve said what I assumed was a final goodbye to my genuine left breast once before surgery, then to two imposters since!
Another farewell – the fourth – is now scheduled.
It seems as though my body is grieving for what it has lost and is busily recreating a full replacement for me.
Every few days this awful but well-intentioned ‘gift’ is offered to me.
Afterwards I have to discreetly dispose of it and hope I don’t get any more.
Due to the build-up of pressure, I am afraid that the stitches from my recent surgery might burst.
An explosion would be almost unimaginably awful – and from lots of people’s perspective, not just mine.
As before, there will surely be around half a litre of liquid inside.
Apparently, a saroma is something similar to the blister you get on your heel when you have bought a new pair of shoes.
Only the one I have is obviously in a completely different place and rather more spectacular.
This is the wrong sort of spectacular-ness to have in my life though.
My body definitely disagrees, for now.
Maybe, as with a cat, I am going to have to humour this odd behaviour and patiently wait for it to stop.
I guess it’s the good intention behind it that counts.
In the meantime, I may have to look forward to a series of alarming gifts and focus on any positives.
Okay. I will try.
