Wednesday, Sept. 10
I’ve gone to the date format because it’s the only way I can keep track of all this.
After we got home from the doc Tuesday, it was time for chinese food (Egg Roll Express in Pasadena) and passing out. I took my meds and went to sleep, hardly waking til morning. All looked ok when I got up, so I just washed my hair before going to the doctor. (I can go a week without a shower if I have to, but the hair has to be washed daily or it becomes a study in oil.) I figured as long as I was washing my hair, I might as well do my roots with the 10minute root touch-up. No strain in doing it, no stretching involved. All worked out fine.
But I was tired after that and needed a short nap. When I woke up I got my things together and realized I didn’t have any cash for parking. I’d spent it at the Elks. Rats. Steve had left very early for work so I couldn’t get any from him. I tried calling but he didn’t answer. He’d said something about a meeting at Universal so I figured that’s where he was. But now I was running a little late if I had to stop at the bank. I got in the car (no hopping, jumping, running, etc., just getting into the car is plenty of effort) and headed out, intending to stop at the bank. Unfortunately a Highway Patrol officer had a different idea. I turned down the Casitas Ave speed trap and was had. I was just out of sorts and didn’t even realize it was a 25 mile an hour zone, and my mind was on my boob and the doctor and making sure I had money to get out of the parking lot. See how your mind can just screw you up? Not being able to do my usual yoga routine over the past few weeks has left my mind atwitter. So the motorcycle cop so cleverly hiding in the shade walks out to the middle of the street and waves me over. I think he’s going to tell me about something going on in the neighborhood and to be careful. No. He’s giving me a speeding ticket. I crack. I nearly pulled off my shirt to show him my pain, but just broke down crying instead. He didn’t care. Gave me the damn ticket as I’m on the phone with the doc’s office telling them I’ll be late. They must think all I ever do is cry. I feel like I’m 12. I want to punch the cop, but, of course, it’s physically impossible to do so.
So I had to pull myself together and get to Burbank, which I did, without further incident. The new gauze worked wonders and doc said all was going fine. “This is the worst it will be,” he said again. And repeated that it will heal up and look perfectly normal. Finally the nurse says, “I have some pictures that will show you what he means.” “Please, bring them, visuals are good!” Sure enough, photos of another woman with both breasts in this condition and both turned out beautiful. That was what I really needed to see. I’m a photographer, show me the proof! You know the cliche…a picture is worth a thousand words. But I’m not showing pictures here, you have to put up with my words.
The rest of the day was incident free. Calm. Relaxing. Got a massage to unhinge my neck muscles and stimulate circulation, and saw Santokh, my chiropractor. No problems during the night.
Today I showered and changed the dressing myself without problems but I felt irritated all day. I did some small errands, checked email, dealt with the cable company (for the third time this week) and puttered. But just as I was preparing for bed, which I haven’t made it to yet, I checked my dressing. One of the large absorbent pads felt odd. When I tried to remove it, it stuck. I tugged ever, ever so gently, and the bleeding started again. Doesn’t seem to be like Tuesday’s incident, but very disheartening. It’s good that there’s blood and circulation, but really not happy with it leaking out. So instead of seeing the doc at 10:30 tomorrow, I’ll probably be there at 8:30. Now I just have to relax enough to sleep.