Boobs, schmoobs

I'm totally over boobs. 

They are just one of the dumbest things ever created. 

Well, at least my right one is. So far the left hasn't caused any problems. 

After my last post, I developed a second abscess. 

Go, me! 

This has led to an open wound that I have to treat until all of the 'infection' works its way out.  I have to keep it covered only that usually means that whatever I cover it with gets stuck to it and the scab is ripped off every time it is replaced. This feels AS LOVELY as it sounds. What started as two small holes have now joined forces to create one large hole. 

I googled 'abscess' and immediately regretted it. I can never unsee that. In the event the things I witnessed online happen to me, I will need MUCH stronger meds. 

I also get to go to physical therapy. For my boob. 

This is as awkward as it sounds. 

I lie there while my physical therapist lasers and ultrasounds and rubs by boob while we make small talk. 

Yep. 

Today my therapist called my Boobolist to double check her extremely large printed orders (of which she has me carry a copy in my purse and in the event there is a question, I am to call her). She mentioned my open wound and the doctor told her not to worry about it and to make the hole big enough to get all the stuff out. And then said "have a blessed day." 

Jesus, take the wheel.

I mentioned to her that I was over all of it, wanted the entire thing removed, and I was going to get a knitted boob as a replacement. She said they come with their own issues. I'm willing to look past those. 

When I'm not in physical therapy, I have a hand massager that I have to use at least once a day to rub at it to attempt to break up the tissue. It traveled with me to my In Laws this weekend and my beloved Father in Law laughed when I plugged it in BECAUSE IT IS THE MOST RIDICULOUS THING EVER! I told him it was completely fine to laugh because it's all just so very dumb.

The medical professionals also recommend airing it out as much as I can. Seriously. I'm just supposed to let it all hang out. Girl, no. That's not happening. I spend WAY too much time on Marco Polo talking to my people without paying any attention to what I look like. What if I forgot?! They DO NOT need to see that!! 

I am the most modest person possible. I'm prude even. And here I am, showing every medical professional in all of Houston my boobs. And they always ask to see both! They need a reference, they say. I mean, come on. 

The level of ridiculousness is astounding. 

And there is no end in sight. This could last another 10 months. 10. Months. 

They know nothing about this disease other than 'this worked once' and 'it can take up to 12 months to completely heal.' 12. Months. 

Y'all. 

I am discouraged. 

I am attempting to find the humor! 

But it is hard right now.

And other adulting stresses aren't helping any. 

Writing it down helps. 

I have moments of complete and total defeat and I remind myself that it could be worse. It is worse for some. I am so very, very lucky. I KNOW this. I do not take this for granted. 

But this oozing boob is bollocks. 
.
Until next time....

....when I'll probably STILL be writing about my stupid, stupid boob.