All Singing All Dancing Breast Unit have excelled. I have already mentioned that when having one’s bristols diagnosed with cancer, it is wise to learn to read first. On account of the quantity of reading matter. However, thanks to All Singing All Dancing Breast Unit all is not lost if reading is not on the agenda.
Yesterday our lovely Postie delivered an exciting package. Thanks to all you gorgeous people, I have been pretty much single handedly keeping the Royal Mail and many of their competitors in business. Since my last thank you, I have received more flowers (and not a single pink one among them, I applaud you!), gin & tonic chocolates, gin, bookmarks, a shawl, a hope stone (or a stone that says hope), and about a gazillion cards. I love them, and you, all. Thank you. Each package has been greeted with squeals of delight because if there is an upside to cancer, this must surely be it? So when the small, flat oblong parcel arrived my excitement was high and I ripped into it with unseemly haste. You would think the hospital frank on the packaging would have tempered my enthusiasm, but no. I simply thought the NHS were now sending me gifts.
And in a manner of speaking they were. A dvd. Featuring boobs. Baps on the box. Tits on TV. Not sure it will catch on. For a start, it will bomb in the world of porn. Not that I am an expert, you understand. This was a 25 minute feature on the different types of reconstructive surgery available. A dramatisation of the booklet they also sent. More reading matter. So all bases were covered. We dutifully settled down to watch last night. The lovely Jane Asher narrated which prompted the Captain to ask if reconstruction using cake would be featured. Apparently not. The results for each technique were encouraging – although they would hardly display their failures. All in all, I found it helpful. I even slept relatively well afterwards – hurrah! The same cannot be said for the Captain. Who spent the night with fevered nightmares about cancer and breasts and surgery.