The irony after my last post was a self induced health scare. I've had a red mark on my boob for a while and in the early hours of a morning about ten days ago I sat bolt upright and thought breast cancer. I quickly switched the router on and started scrolling on my tablet all about tell-tale signs. Depending on the interpretation of the info I may have a sign I may not. No clearer the day had to begin as normal. Unusually proactive I found a minute to log on and book a doctors apt with my favourite GP. Not had the apt yet as it is this Thurs.
The mark did not get bigger yet was not shrinking like a spot or bite might. I tried to avoid looking or thinking about it but could not. The sick feeling of doubt remained no matter what I did. Of course I knew it was there and just had to keep prodding in the hope it would morph into a spot. The skin peeled painlessly away and it stayed red. Eventually one evening some ick came out of it. It started to act like a spot/bite but also looked more like some of the pictures I kept looking at. I kept thinking 'not while he is doing his A levels' - go figure this tiger mum?
I have always resented my boobs. A tomboy and early developer I hated them and denied needing a bra for as long as my mum could let me get away with it. In my twenties I was used to men having conversations with my large chest rather my face. But had no idea how to deal with it. Now in my forties I am at peace with my size. Just in time to lose them I thought.
Happy to report the 'spot' is getting smaller and smaller. I will keep my apt but the worry is over. I will keep the apt to learn more about it and also to find out when I can have a mammogram.
So sorry for being distracted and not blogging or commenting recently.