I got an x-ray with the dentist’s. No infection! Because infection looks black on an x-ray, and see! No black.
The screw-shaped bump in my mouth is probably scar tissue, but the good doc says we will x-ray it many times in the coming months. Until we are satisfied it is not changing. Or until it mutates and becomes some sort of superhero/supervillian. I was so happy it was not infected, I just about kissed him. But at the last minute, he gave me a weird look. Possibly it was, hey don’t touch me with that effed up bump in your mouth. Sheesh. I wasn’t gonna give him tongue or anything. Or who knows. Maybe next time I will. I believe dentists should face their fears.
But guess what! I did find out I have an abscess elsewhere. Guess where! Mah booby. Yeah, I went in for my two week OB* and happened to mention this weird rash. Found out that is where my milk duct did something really gross. Like, not exactly exploded, but kind of did explode. A little bit. Or the pus inside exploded out to the surface. Something I’d rather not think about and I’m sure you’d rather not hear.
Anyway, the OB told me that I had one week to take antibiotics and massage it in the shower and nurse the hell out of it. And if the rash is not gone? Ultrasound and surgical consultation.
I took some pictures of the boob rash as well, figuring there is no time like post-partum to get a little full frontal over here. But upon close photographic inspection? I discovered that my tit looks like the testical of a 90 year old albino bull who has been dragging said testical many miles across the frozen tundra. And PS: the bull ball is allergic to tundra.
Lastly, I made coffee for my husband this morning. I figured he was so tired from being up with the baby all night that he had forgotten. After coffee was brewing, he informed me that we were out of milk. Is coffee drinkable without milk? Neither of us know. I suggested he drink the coffee creamer from a party we had a month ago. He looked at the ingredients and decided he was going to flavor his jo with breastmilk instead. He has a thing about drinking ‘weird’ ingredients such as sugar, water, soybean oil.
I thought he was joking, but no. I reminded him his coffee creamer of choice was from inside me. He poured it in. I told him I had mastitis. He stirred his cup. I mentioned the word pus. He came back with “if it’s good enough to feed the baby…” and also, “mmmm… tastes creamy.” He drank the whole cup while I squealed like a girl and eventually slid down onto the kitchen floor in a big pile of gross out. Then he smiled and poured himself another milky cup.
Now I hear him in the other room working. I have not heard him vomit or anything. But he seems to have developed a strange cough that he stifles like he doesn’t want me to hear it.
I think I can beat the week deadline on getting rid of this rash though. My tits are not the only thing around here tougher than old bull balls.
*Guess this is a recent change to the standard of care. With all my other kids, I had a six week sex check and was set to go. However, now the thing to do is haul you in at two weeks, request you bring your baby with you, and they then ask a bunch of ‘how ya doin’ questions and coo at the latest edition. PS: If you respond, how the fuck do you think I’m doing? My appointment was scheduled for 45 minutes ago. They don’t have a good answer on hand, but they do scribble in your chart a lot.