I’m still living season 1 of my live streaming dark comedy “my left breast”. It’s a cracking little mini-series that has now been running for three months and promises to keep on running for at least another eight. I really hope that there is never a season 2.
In the drama so far, I have given up a big old chunk of me that I thought I could never live without. It turns out that having a lumpectomy is a bit like having a bite out of the peach, or so I was told at the big reveal, that happened accidentally while I was getting out of the shower.
Having your lymph nodes out is a bit more of a challenge. Every time I pick up a knife to chop carrots, I am met by cries of “Noooo” as my nearest and dearest lunge at me for fear I should cut myself, get an infection and die, or worse, that my arm cannot take it and swells to epic proportions that will cause me to moan. I have given up my lifelong approach to checking the state of the blade, by running my thumb along it. The Son, even took my knife and fork out of my hands and cut up my food and removed the knife.
Infection is the risk that is drummed into me at every turn. I even got given a card that says I’m a chemo patient and that should I become ill, “do not wait for blood results before administering antibiotics.” I feel like a drug Lord. I’m supposed to carry this with me at all times. It’s also got an emergency help line number that I couldn’t read, so a helpful nurse said she’d send it as a pdf. She was as good as her word. There was just one tiny little problem. Neither of us could rotate the document to an upright position. All of this was fine if you are skilled at reading upside down.
The biggest laugh of this episode came with the arrival of the preparing for chemo video, in which three earnest nurses read the list of doom from an autocue. I particularly enjoyed the joke about remembering to use a condom. I can’t remember if it came before or after the warnings about hair loss, weight gain and a nasty case of the runs. Given the likelihood of the these side effects, I’m not rushing out for prophylactics. On the upside, the video did include a flashed up copy of the emergency hot line number so I froze the screen and popped the number in my phone. The only problem was, that the number that appears on screen has an extra digit. It was the wrong number so let’s hope no other bright spark had the same idea as me because they might die trying if they ever needed to call it.
The nice nurse tried another approach and managed to print it out on a piece of paper that I have sitting next to me now, less I should cut myself with my own finger nail or possibly the edge of my tongue or probably the keyboard.
As this particular episode of series 1 draws to its conclusion, I am not playing it for laughs any more. This is a dark comedy that has taken a turn for the worse. I only hope it’s not too late to put matters right and get the script back on track.
Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to hide the bodies of those who make it difficult.