Monday, December 29, 2014

The last boob panic of 2014

  The boy is staying with the family for his Christmas vacation. He can play with his cousins and enjoy his vacation. I decided it's a good time to watch R rated movies, eat Indian food, and drink wine. For the past two nights, I drink a glass of wine, get drunk from one glass, take a wine nap and then cry because I miss my child. So, having a real blast. V asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I told him a boyfriend. I think Santa heard me, but in his old age, got it wrong. Instead of a boyfriend, I got texts from an ex wanting to get back together. Because my life needs more complications.
  Last night, during my bath, I noticed my left boob seemed extra heavy. My boobs have been sore for the past week. I took it all in stride because my period just ended. If you're thinking this is TMI, you should know that's my jam by now. Also, for anyone thinking it's a pregnancy, shut it. I can't even remember what sex is like at this point. It's probably the only time I've been relieved I haven't had sex in so long because I could rule that out.
  Like most women, I have one bigger breast, my left one, also known as the bad one. It's the one that had the lump and the biopsy. Most recently, it had another lump, also benign. Last night, I noticed it's almost twice the size of the other one. Straight panic set in. Why is this boob so much bigger?! My first thought is, great, I have to go to a doctor and explain that I need my boob looked at because it's bigger. This is after my last doctor visit where I couldn't poop. This man is going to think I have issues. I really need to see a gyno. I haven't seen one since the golden child was born. I know, this is horrendous. It's the appointment all women hate to make. Someone is all up in your lady business and it's strictly clinical. My last doctor knew I worked at a bookstore and always asked book questions while she was down there. "So, what's the newest John Grisham?" I don't want to talk while you're pinching something inside my inner sanctum. I tend to giggle during the breast exam, too. It's a whole weird scene. Not something I'm anxious to experience again soon. 
  I'm not even sure I'm not imagining it all. Maybe it's always like this. I felt the immediate need to text every ex and ask if they remember the difference in my boobs, but felt that wasn't appropriate. They might remember, though! One ex did drunk text me recently and tell me they were the best he's ever seen. He might be some help. I feel he may think he needs a fresh examination, which isn't going to happen. This is definitely something I would've asked Bob. He would've been reassuring about it, too. Can't ask the Russian. It's the height of complication with him right now.
  I'm thinking and hoping it's just hormones. I want it to deflate like a Macy's balloon after Thanksgiving.