Annual Review Clinic

cute-little-girl-visiting-friend-at-hospital-vintage

Today was the first of my five, yearly visits to the Breast Clinic just to check that all is going well.  It follows on from my annual mammogram.  The appointment was with Brainy Spice and I was looking forward to seeing her.

However, on arrival, I seriously began to question whether I had got the place, time or date of the appointment wrong.  The waiting room I was shown to was in the Oncology Clinic which threw me a little.  But it is adjacent to the Breast Unit so that did not seem unreasonable.  It was very crowded.  Again, nothing unusual about that.  But I did begin to wonder if I had inadvertently been sent to a Health Care for the Elderly Clinic.  I was easily the youngest in the room by at least twenty years.  Until the woman in her thirties showed up.  I must have looked ancient to her so I can only shudder at what she thought of the rest of our companions.  Of course, there is the possibility that these women were, in fact, all in the their fifties and were attending their last review appointment having spent the past five years on Letrozole.

Which brings me to my consultation.  Brainy Spice was as fab as ever.  I was as dippy as ever.  I had a list of questions I wanted to ask.  Unfortunately, it was a mental list.  Mistake.  Obviously, I got side tracked by demonstrating my tit twitching abilities and promptly forgot all about it.  She was impressed though and felt that as a plan to fall back on in hard times, it was not an unreasonable one.  Hurrah.  The one question I did remember to ask was about Letrozole.  Just lately I have been having a lot of trouble with muscle cramps and joint stiffness.  I am frequently woken in the night with my calves or feet cramping and I can no longer sit cross legged on the floor without a good deal of pain.  Both these problems are getting worse.  To establish whether it is the Letrozole causing the problems or just an absence of oestrogen, Brainy Spice has suggested I have a Letrozole holiday.  So for six weeks, my little brown pills get metaphorically packed away in a suitcase with arm bands and a bucket and spade.  I wonder if they will send a post card?

Following this break, I return to clinic to discuss the findings.  Of course by then, I will be sporting my new rack.  I wonder if I will still be able to twitch?

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