The joy of rolling


In days gone by, rolling over in bed was something my breasts and I thought little about.  They were pretty mobile and independently minded so I left them to their own devices.  I did have the occasional breast clap moment beloved of Miranda but largely their shenanigans did not disturb me.  Apart from during my midwifery training when I had a week working with a breast feeding counsellor.  This clearly worked its way deep into my subconscious and one night I dreamt that I was personally responsible for feeding thirty newborn babes.  In order to do this, I had responded in the only appropriate way and grown a third breast.  Alongside my already ample bosom, this addition required a bra to be constructed by a friend who worked in the scaffolding industry.  It was an exhausting dream.  I tossed and turned for its duration.  And every side to side roll necessitated that I pick up my enormous bangers, including the imaginary third, and lift them individually over to the side I was rolling onto.  This happened a lot.  And each time I walloped my arms down onto the sleeping form of the Captain.  Strangely, he did not tolerate this for over long and woke me.  I cannot think why.

My leftover right breast is still as mobile as ever but my new shoubsicle is in the Ain’t Budging An Inch stage of its development.  I am not sure how much movement it will ever have but currently it sits proudly on my chest and.  does.  not.  move.  It is not alone.  I have not exactly been partaking of gymnastics of late.  Although I am very proud to announce that after 27 years of marriage, the Captain and I are still being experimental in the bedroom department.  We had to swap sides in the bed as my bedside table is on my left usually and therefore currently out of reach.  Besides the surgical scars on my back, on my chest and under my arm, I also have blisters healing on my back from a nasty allergic reaction in the first 24 hours following my operation.  All of this has meant that I have been sleeping, or attempting to, flat on my back, well padded and not moving.  It has all been hampered by my difficulty finding the right analgesic combo and this prompted such posts as this and this.  However, thanks to suggestions from the Serious Delinquent and happy compliance from Surgical Spice and I am now about to get moving following my second good night in a row.  If it did not sound so kinky, I would tell you that I love my Voltarol suppositories.  Oops.

Moving on.  So good is my pain relief now, that I actually lay on my right side last night.  And it was marvellous.  So good that I am now planning a trip to a coffee shop.  And wailing will not be involved!


5 thoughts on “The joy of rolling

  1. Helen. I simply love you. All this is totally new to me being a fried egg woman of not much breast substance. My how i have envied women with larger breats than I (which is possibly 90% of the population.) No longer. Praying that your humor and your recovery and your coffee continues and is simply fabulous xx


  2. You are really losing it now! I knew for years you were suspect but now I have phoned for the men in white coats to come and take you away haha! 😱


  3. you have caused my breakfast toast to spew forth across the table at the thought of you and the captain being experiemental in the bedroom department. Voltarol suppositories are just the best, so glad you’ve found them. A cafe. How marvellous. Enjoy muchly xxx


  4. keep writing girl…. let it all (what’s left {or right]of it) hang out, why don’t you?! It’s got to be better than crying – although do that too, if you have to.
    You are an inspiration


    PS am about to google ‘voltarol suppositories’ in case they are the answer to my problems too xx


  5. You swapped sides in bed? That’s verging on the perverted! Just catching up with you blog now, you still make me laugh, you mad woman. Keep getting better xxx


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