I got my stitches out on Wednesday. Well, not out, actually. Actually they weren't even stitches actually. Actually, my incision was closed up with dermabond, whatever that is. Tape? Glue? Maybe it was stitched on. It sure felt like it! It did not want to come off any sooner than it had to.
Actually the tape came off on Wednesday. Right before I went to the doctor to have it removed. Glad I paid for the doctor to not have to do anything.
So I returned home on Wednesday evening with a sore chest. VERY sore chest. In fact, it's STILL sore!
Fast forward to Friday. That would be today. I was scheduled for my follow up mammogram at 10:45.
Got to the breast imaging facility and went through all the preparations for the dreaded diagnostic mammogram. I undressed, stressed, and headed into the room with the big, big machine. Ugh and double ugh.
And once placed in position for the first photo.... I yelped. No, I screamed! The bruise on my chest was not going to let me get any closer to that machine.
Yet, I was there and I was undressed and I was in position. I was not about to give up and have to come back again later.
Oh but, I was.
The technician took one look at my incision and decided that it was not healed enough yet to be stretched and tugged and pulled and forced. If any of that were to happen we both feared that my wound would pull apart and reopen. Yeah, not so pretty,.
Not so comfortable, either.
So, I'm at home now. In pain. But dressed. And that's good.
The ol' mammo - part 2 - has to wait another week and a half. I sure hope I can wait that long. Waiting for news that everything's alright or everything's all wrong is so not fun.