as if all my melodrama could actually come to mean anything significant.
Me: see how that part looks different
Me: and on this one
Me: do you think it’s anything or do I just have weird nipples
GP: just smiled. And nodded.
Anyway, she said to give myself 48 hours for the antibiotics to work so my boobs don’t feel like they’re on FUCKING FIRE and then go and get them ultrasounded (I know I know) as a mammogram isn’t going to work because I’m breastfeeding. The mere thought of having to squish these mothers between two cold hard metal plates was not exactly high on my list of must-dos.
This week: Breast ultrasounds
Next week: Pap smears*
It just gets better and better doesn’t it.
Other funny exchanges in the doctor’s surgery:
GP (filling out referral for Chef to get the snip): So what form of contraception will you be using before that happens?
Like we’re ever having sex again.
* the GP I saw, who is not our normal GP (even though when I rang I specifically requested him it turns out he was only working Thurs-Fri this week) looked up my file because I was doing the whole “oh no, I have my pap smears on the even year not the odd” and informed me that actually I was due for my biannual scrapage but considering how I was feeling suggested I have it next week when I’m feeling better. Isn’t that thoughtful.