Have been reading this book to my 6 year old daughter. She brought it up to the hospital so I could read it to her here. It's written by a mother who had a mastectomy.
My daughter has brought me spare pyjamas and hugs and kisses since I've been here. She's been looking after her daddy and big brothers too. A busy bee.

Mastectomy day.

My imagination went into overdrive in the days leading up to this operation. It needn't have. I'm feeling physically fine. I have pain but I expected to have pain. I feel like I've overdone it at the gym with a chest expander. I expect the real pain will kick in tomorrow. I've opted for reconstruction with an implant, so the pain is coming from the area under the pectoral muscle where they've placed a temporary expander pouch.

I'm concentrating on the physical recovery. I know I will be better equipped to deal with the emotional stuff when I'm physically healed.

I feel good. Relieved. Grateful. Hopeful. Excited even. My husband and children have visited. Their relief was palpable . Giddy and joyful as they left.

Not a cloud in the sky today in this part of Ireland.

The day before.

Tomorrow I'm having a mastectomy. I'll be blogging my way through recovery. I don't know why, but I'm hoping it will help me. I don't feel nervous. I don't feel relaxed. I'm feeling reflective and resigned to what's ahead for me.