On Wednesday, my boobs were a bit sore.
On Thursday, my boobs were really sore. They have been sore the day before my period starts for the last few months so I didn’t think much about it. Okay, that’s not true. They were extra special sore on Thursday and I kept saying things to Beefy like, “my boobs are burning”, “ow, my boobs hurt” and “don’t touch me, don’t touch me, my boobs!”.
On Friday, I woke up and the first thing I said was “Oh my fucking god, my boob, there’s something really wrong with my left boob! I think I have mastitis!???”.
I was a bit unsure as to whether it really was mastitis, I weaned Gecko at 21 months, that’s a whole 15 months ago! Usually my milk hangs around in small amounts for months after weaning but (maybe thanks to all of my medications) it had all but dried up within weeks of weaning her.
Luckily, I had to make a trip to the GP on Friday anyway so I mentioned it to her while we were chatting. “Ummm, that’s weird, do you want me to have a little look?”, she replied, while making that expression that says ‘hmmm, I just asked you to get your boob out’. My GP is fairly young, younger than me I think and has no kids, so she seemed concerned that having a look at my boob was a a bit like giving me a pap smear or something. She forgets that I have fed four kids and have flopped one out in way more unusual social situations than a GP visit. I gingerly hoiked it out through the top of my bra and shirt so she could have a look, all the while telling her how much better it looked now.
She thought it still looked pretty unwell. She probably hasn’t seen many boobs that have suffered as much wear and tear as mine but I had to agree. It was a sickening pink and purple mottle. The swelling filled out all of the previously empty stretched skin. It’s funny how looking at something like that can make it hurt more.
GP said she didn’t want me to be stuck if it worsened over the weekend. We talked about how low my white cell count has been and decided that if it got worse we needed to (in her words) “hit it hard with antibiotics”. She also promised me that the (pretty extreme) strength of the antibiotics combined with my suppressed immune system pretty much guaranteed me a killer case of thrush.
Initially I was reluctant to get the antibiotics, honestly, the last thing we need is to pay for medications that aren’t necessary (also, see above).
By Saturday evening though, it was obviously getting worse and I had done some reading about mastitis in non-breastfeeding women.
I say no to abscesses.
I have been on antibiotics for three days now . It’s still too painful to rest my arm against my left breast. Why the hell does this hurt so much, huh?
Looks like I’ll be back at the GP tomorrow unless it gets better overnight.
Instead of that annoying thought, I’ll leave you with a shot of the other thing I did on Friday. I made a starter for my own sourdough earlier in the week, which is so fun and cool to make with the kids by the way. We’ve explained to Skunky about yeast when we’ve made bread before but it was even cooler to make a weird potion that comes to life all by itself.
The bread turned out okay. That is to say, it worked well and was nice but it was not much different from any other loaf I make with packaged yeast. I’m going to look into some different starter recipes because we’d like a stronger sourdough flavour.
I forgot to take a post baking photo so this is just after I’d finished making the loaves, before they had proven.