We went over a whole lot of info, from all the medications I may or may not be taking before surgery to post operation expectations. She talked a mile a minute and I tried to keep up with everything she was saying. I would be doing blood work today, a chest xray and a pregnancy test.
I assured her I wasn't pregnant, and there was no way I could be. Brad can't have any more kids, I told her. She smiled. "Well, you never know dear". Umm, yeah I do. But evidently I wasn't persuasive enough. I still had to pee on a stick. Guess what? I'm not pregnant. What a relief.
It was all going fairly well until she told me that since I'll be doing a lymph node dissection in a week (which is the part of the surgery where they take your lymph nodes out) I was no longer allowed to shave my right armpit.
I thought I misheard her, but she repeated her odd request. Why in the world can I not shave? Because the right armpit is where the lymph node dissection takes place and they don't want to take the chance of me cutting myself by accident and causing an infection for them.
"Think of it as if you were taking a trip to Italy" - she suggested. "They don't shave in Europe".
Hmm, except for I'm not. I'm not signing up for a trip to Italy, I'm going in for a mastectomy. Slightly different level of excitement.
They're taking my boobs. They're taking my ovaries. They're making me grow hair in places I would rather not.
Hello Universe?! Could you make it ANY harder for me to feel feminine?