The hospital staff recalled me for a puzzling procedure called ‘scar excision’. I had no idea that this was part of my long-term treatment, and was rather reluctant to go through with this notoriously painful operation.
By now my scar had all but disappeared, invisible under a bra or bikini top: was another operation really necessary? The news that my untreated breasts could explode at any moment convinced me to go under the knife again. I cancelled all my other appointments by text, then checked into the ward.
There was a delay before I was called through to surgery, so I took advantage of some free time by visiting the hospital charity shop with some of my fellow patients.