The hospital

After spending nearly 3 hours at the hospital, we still do not know whether we have cause for worry or not. The probability is no.

The cause of concern turned out to be not the blurred mammogram I expected, but some very bright dots which are apparently due to calcification. They tend to occur as women get older. Well, I’m certainly getting older. I’ve not learnt how to stop the clock ticking yet.

However, this calcification is not definitely a sign of cancer. It can occur in cysts & I undeniably have a lot of cysts in my breasts. Hopefully that will be all it is in this case.

While I was at the hospital, I had a second magnified mammogram, an ultrasound & finally a biopsy. The results of the later will not be back until we return from holiday, so with that I will put the worries on one side until we’re back. I’m confident France will provide plenty of distraction.

The one thing that is certain is that there is no obvious sign of a tumour of any great size at the moment. They just need to ascertain whether the circle around the calcification is a cyst or the starting of a tumour. Certainly if it does turn out to be cancer it is at a very early stage so should be easily treatable.

Meanwhile as a result of the biopsy, which involved a cut on my left breast, I’m now going around like a bird with a broken wing. I’m not allowed to raise my left arm beyond a certain point or lift anything as otherwise the incision might break open again. Fortunately I'm right-handed.

I’m off to the hairdressers’ this morning. Fortunately the man came to read or power meters this morning. He’s kindly opened the up-and-over style garage door so I could get my mobility scooter out for the journey. He then closed the door & locked it. My mobility scooter is sitting on the drive, ready for me to go. If I cannot manage the door when I get back, the scooter can wait on the drive until the Fox is available to open the door to put it away again.

I have to confess I’m dreading the hairdressers’ a bit. It’s never my favourite chore. This time, however, my head is still sore from slamming into the shed wall head first on Monday, so this might be a painful experience. The lad, a junior, who does the hair washing believes in a good massage (I can’t help thinking raiki may be his calling.) I will have to warn him as well as the hairdresser to go carefully.