Page 111 - She's One Crazy Lady!

that it? The discomfort was minimal. No. There was more. More shots were needed, and I was asked to step back and ‘fall in’ to the machine. I had to smile. After a couple of minutes, I was ‘invited’ to go for an ultrasound and was led into an adjacent room to be met by a consultant radiologist, Mr Thompson, who proceeded to cover my left boob with jelly before manoeuvring a probe all over it. I was fascinated to see my magnified boob on screen. Being told to lay still Mr Thompson explained he was going to perform a biopsy and I suddenly saw a very large needle in his hand – the nurse took my hand. Three injections later, with Mr Thompson describing the first like a bee sting; the second like a couple of bee stings and the third like a swarm of bees. He was right – they sure did sting and brought tears to the eyes, but then I was fascinated at the staple gun-like instrument used to extract slivers of ‘It’.
All over. The site was padded and bandaged, and I admit that I felt somewhat dazed as I made my way to the waiting area, wondering what they had lined up next for me, for I was due at a Headteacher’s meeting in the afternoon and so much wanted to attend to meet up with colleagues in neighbouring schools. Sadly, this was not to be as I was advised to rest.
Next on the list was a further meeting with Mr Stewart who, this time was accompanied by the Senior Breast Care Nurse, Margaret Paragreen. Years on, I knew what the presence of such a Senior Nurse could mean, but at the time I assumed this was normal practice. Mr Stewart told me he had found an ‘abnormality’ and asked if I could go back on Thursday morning to get the results.
Thursday morning? Hmmm... the date and the day struck a chord. What was I doing on Thursday morning? I remembered, and without hesitation, announced: “No, I can’t do Thursday morning, I’m seeing the Queen”. The quizzical look on his face was memorable. What he must have thought I don’t know, for some years later, when I was reading my records, he had written words to the effect: “This lady says she was seeing the Queen!” What did they think of me? I carried on: “But I can do the afternoon”. I felt I had to explain. On the Thursday in question our School had been invited by the Borough Council to have a prime spot in the town centre for when the Queen and Prince Phillip visited; we were allowed to take a group of about 15 children and were told the Queen would stop to talk to us. I didn’t want the children to miss out on this once in a lifetime opportunity, and selfishly, neither did I – I wanted to take photos! My appointment was duly made for the afternoon!
I always remember watching the opening day of Wimbledon following my endless interventions that morning, feeling guilty I wasn’t at the Head’s meeting, but relieved in one way, for the anaesthetic had worn off and the affected area was, indeed, sore. I had to put this to the back of my mind until later in the week as there was a great deal of work to be done and excitement was high about the Queen’s visit and Des’s leaving assembly.
“Three injections later, with Mr Thompson describing
the first like a bee sting; the second like a couple of bee stings and the third like a swarm of bees.
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