Now i know i said that i wouldn't use that word again but it didn't seem to work any other way.
So lets start from the beginning of Volder-tits journey. In February 2015 i was sitting in one of those bloody feeding chairs that look minging but i have to admit are a godsend. I was breastfeeding my 5 month old little boy called Potato when i noticed i had a red rash beginning to form on my right nork. 'Oh great I've got fucking mastitis' i think. What a pain in the ass. I WhatsApp my NCT friends who i know have had this before and they tell me that i should be in a lot of pain and have a fever. I don't. Well i remind myself how 'hard as nails' i am and don't seem to feel pain the same way as these mere mortals. So i leave it to clear up on its own as I'm sure it will. It doesn't and in April i figure its about time that i got some advice as i was under the impression that it would have fucked off on its own by now. I make an appointment with my GP surgery only to have a pretty shit experience with the worlds biggest bellend.
Dr Bellend: Hello. What can i do for you?
Me: I have a red rash on my boob. Its been there for two months and its spreading. Im breastfeeding my little boy but i don't have any fever or pain. So i don't think this is normal
Dr Bellend: You have mastitis.
Me: Im not in any pain at all and i don't have a fever.
Dr Bellend: You have mastitis.
Me: Ok. But is that normal to just have a rash? My little boy cant feed off of that side either. All he does is bite me.
Dr Bellend: (Huffs - what a bellend) Do you want me to look at your breast?
Me: (not really you cunt but why wouldn't you want to? My boobs aren't that bad)
Dr Bellend then proceeds to lift the sheet off of my boob in a flapping motion that can be likened to him trying to flap a spider off of a blanket and then says "you have mastits."
That was it. He diagnosed me in a nanosecond. I then asked if he was sure and he proceeded to tell me that if it wasn't mastitis then it was folliculitis and that the treatment was the same. I then declined the antibiotics as he said it would go away on its own. Then i left.
Luckily Dr Bellend was such a massive Bellend that i went home and stewed on this encounter and decided that fuck this i was getting a second opinion. I called and asked for a female Dr. I went 10 days later. I explained what had happened with the previous Dr and she gave me a full examination, went through some questions with me and assured me that i had mastitis. She did however stress that i should take the antibiotics and then return if they didn't work. I was happy with this and thought no more of it. I went away with my friends and didn't take the tablets immediately as i wanted to drink. Little did i know i had just got pregnant via immaculate conception. I then began taking the antibiotics and then we moved house. I then went to Spain to visit my aunt and uncle. On this trip i felt quite unwell for most of the time. I put this down to tiredness as the bloody kids wouldn't sleep the whole time we were away. I spent one afternoon yacking my guts up and then came back and discovered i was pregnant! So this was about the end of June 2015. I then began to notice that my nipple was retracting and i had dimples on my skin. Great this infection is getting worse. I returned from Spain and registered with a new Dr who then examined me and said that she was also a breastfeeding mother and didn't think i had mastitis She sent me for a biopsy.
I went to the Bristol breast clinic and sat with all the old ladies in the waiting room feeling quite guilty for taking an appointment away from one of these old Doris's who really needed the care. I went in and went through the motions and was informed after an examination that they would need a tissue sample and that the anaesthetic would hurt. This needle went in and i can honestly say i didn't feel a bloody thing. This did seem strange. He then asked me to return on the following Friday 11th September for the results.
I must say things did begin to play on my mind from here on. I analysed their body language my mind and their intonations in the questions they had asked. I then decided that there was to be bad news ahead.
But what the fuck was wrong with me?
Of course, i did what any 32 year old curious woman would do.... i googled!!!!
Well, i was careful to stick to the factual and well known websites and avoided sites such as 'yourefucked.com' and 'slowpainfuldeath.org'. The top 20 search hits were Volder-Tit websites and i thought 'oh shit here we go'. After looking at documents about lumpy tits and the like i found a very short paragraph on Inflammatory Breast Cancer. In short it said 'this is the one you really don't want'. Its that prostitute i mentioned before. 'You will most likely die'. Blah blah get fucked blah. Here are the symptoms.... you have them all. Oh dear. Oh well it could be an infection so don't panic yet. So i did what all rational people do....i panicked.
There were a lot of conversations in the following days ranging from 'Don't be fucking daft, you're too young to have it' to 'oh my god you're going to die'.
I was settling somewhere in the middle.
As results day loomed i began to convince myself that it was something bad but it was going to be manageable as long as it wasn't the inflammatory thingy. I said to Scouse (my chap and father of the kids) as we had our last pre-life-swallowing-results Costa at the hospital, "Its fine as long as its not inflammatory'.
We waited in the old lady waiting room, looking at ladies and one chap, in various forms of decay and i began to get angry. A) they were 45 minutes late seeing me b) i still felt like a fraud and was expecting a nurse to just hand me a prescription and C) if i had to pee one more time in the foul minge-stinking toilet i was going to shit frisbees!!!
Then the nurse came and called my name. 'Yes!' i thought, 'tablets!'
She informed me that i needed to follow her. She was taking me to see the Dr. She led us further to the back of the hospital. It was getting quieter and quieter. 'Fuck!' I thought, 'shes taking me straight to the morgue!' We arrived at a location called 'Breast Care'. Was this a good or bad area? Scouse didn't say a thing. The nurse led us to the door and i was still 50/50 at this point. Then she opened the door and i saw them. Not the dr or the paperwork. It was the cushions! These were bad news cushions! All cheerful for positivity but at the same time they seemed to say "im so sorry. Here sit with me. Ill cushion your sorry ass while that guy with the clipboard shits all over your life". These cushions said it all. It was bad news.
Dr Boob: Im so sorry but we have found some cancer.
Me: what type is it?
Dr Boob: Its a rare one called Inflammatory
Me: Oh Fuck
Cushions: We're so sorry.