The Mezzanine

I have, unfortunately, failed to keep track of my flist. If you posted something important and I missed it... I'm sorry. Please let me know what it was!





This week is a very good one.

This week:
- we got a new Prime Minister!
- I finished my cancer treatment!
- I am turning 40!
- I will get to see Hamilton!

Now, if the board game I've ordered will hurry up and arrive already, it'll be the Best Week Ever.

...aaaaaaand cancel that.


This morning I finished my three days of iso, and drove to Hospital 1, where they injected me with stuff, scanned me for an hour, and sent me on my way. I then spent the rest of the morning fasting and trying not to think about food, before rocking up to Hospital 2, packed and ready for my surgery.

There I was, in the reception area, when my surgeon called me and told me that my latest scans showed that I had a chest infection. Which would make surgery way too dangerous, so it would be postponed. Also, sit tight, he was heading my way to bring me prescriptions and referrals to a respiratory specialist.

I am somewhat prone to fainting.

Ideal conditions for fainting include:
- low blood sugar (haven't eaten enough)
- short of breath (chest infection)
- stress (postponing urgent surgery)

So I hung up with the surgeon and immediately collapsed in the middle of the hospital's reception. Tell you what – if you want to see how many nurses you can get to make a fuss of you, try fainting somewhere medical. I ended up with five nurses checking my temperature, bringing me water, feeding me sandwiches, helping me into a wheelchair, and (of course) checking my Covid results.

I do NOT have Covid.

I do have a chest infection that will take strong antibiotics and a few weeks to get rid of. After which I can hopefully have my surgery.

Bugger, damn, blast, and all that. This really sucks.

So... yay. It turns out I have breast cancer.

Quite an early stage of breast cancer. And it hasn't spread or anything yet. But... yeah. That new suspicious-feeling lump in my breast is in fact cancerous, and I'm going to have to have it removed. Assuming our hospitals have enough space during the current Covid outbreak.


(Stress over "weird unidentifiable lump" has meant I've ignored my flist here for the last month. Trying to catch up now, but I'm sorry if I miss anything important.)