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Yesterday I made an appointment to see the plastic surgeon that Mr Al-Dubaisi works with. My Floyd isn’t a cancer specialist (not sure there is such a thing in the plastics world) but he does seem to get all of Mr A’s private referrals so I guess he knows a thing or two about breast cancer.

Anyhow. Apparently plastic surgery is booming. I have to wait two weeks for an appointment. He gets that booked up. I can book to see Mr A only a couple of days in advance, but it’s a two week wait for Mr F. I suppose that’s common sense in that you want to get a cancer concern dealt with PDQ but a nip and a tuck can wait. But it seems so intuitively wrong that a plastics guy has such a waiting list. There are obviously lots and lots and lots of people wanting plastic surgery. I’m sure lots of them will be doing it for medical reasons, like me. But there must be a fair number doing it for aesthetic reasons only. Given our family’s extensive exposure to doctors and hospitals in the last few years, I can’t get my head round someone opting for an operation purely on cosmetic grounds. I know that it takes all sorts, but really?

So in two weeks I will get a chance to talk about new boobs. Much hilarity can be derived from this. Already I hand had several conversations about size, pertness etc etc. I don’t care all that much (at the moment, at least). I want boobs, for sure, but I can’t get too excited about them. I am not my boobs, nor are my boobs me. Frankly, I just want the whole bloody thing over and done with. Having been through chemo, I’m just focusing on getting my strength back. I want to have energy again. I want to find my mojo. Nice boobs will be an added extra.