After the exploding boob episode, you'd sort of hope that on the balance of probabilities my luck would even out wouldn't you? Only I don't believe in luck. If I did, I would be buying a four leaf clover, wearing a rabbit's foot (not so lucky for the rabbit) and finding a black cat to parade in front of me wherever I go.
Yesterday I had another boob draining session. Apart from the immediate relief that it brings, I will admit to a fascinating bonus of looking at my own exudate. I'm no vampiric Goth but there is something transfixing about a large amount of bloody fluid that's been drawn out and sitting in three huge syringes on a worktop. It's a bit like scrumptious raspberry juice.
Nursey advised a couple more weeks off before going back to work. Some would be thankful and if I didn't feel so rotten and could be making bags, I'd be happy about it. As it is, I'm fed up. By now I thought I'd be feeling fine, back in the office and ready to enjoy the cake troffing on Macmillan's coffee morning. Or to be factually correct, three days of cake troffing, all thanks to the lovely people I work with.
Nursey said I've just been unlucky.
Yesterday was also my first injection of Zoladex. The first wave of the assault on any remaining hormone sensitive cancer cells. The actual injection was painless. I was told it might sting but then the boobs are still so sore, it would have had to have been quite something to compete.
10 pm last night the itching started. At first it was along the veins in my wrist, then the arm and over my chest. I did my best to ignore it and I went to bed. Late this morning, I had chest pains; just indigestion I thought. So I ignored it and went shopping.
Early afternoon whilst watching TV my heart began noticeably thumping and the chest pain tightened. Weak wobbly legs followed and I was feeling very, very odd. Within an hour, I'd had an ECG and my ticker was declared to be okay, skipping a little fast though so I was prescribed some beta blockers and histamines for the itching.
Doctor said I've just been unlucky.
I made it clear that I didn't want to take Zoladex to start with. I know how hopeless my body is with hormones but the MDT in their infinite wisdom chose to ignore my protestations. I'm due a consultation with a gynecologist soon to discuss the whipping out of my ovaries (so I can dispense with the Zoladex). If he/she doesn't agree to the procedure, I shall be downing a bottle of gin and inviting friends around to an impromptu game of Operation.
Having worked for pharmaceutical companies and been a recipient of their products, I have both a respect and distrust of drugs. And I don't believe "side effects" exist. They're not side effects, they're effects and in my experience, they're every bit as likely to happen as the beneficial effects.
Or maybe I've just been unlucky.
On the other hand, maybe my problem isn't with pharmacology, it's that I have a tabby cat.
