I came out of Baker Street station, and did the usual walk. Zipped passed the Pret a Manger and tourist shops; walked by Madame Tussauds, and crossed over to Nottingham Place.

It had been three months since I was last at the Princess Grace; and it was a weirdly strange but familiar feeling to walk through the sliding doors and to the front desk.

Hi, I’ve got an appointment at the Breast Institute.

The receptionist smiled, released the door, and pointed me in the direction. I walked up the flight of stairs, got to the top, pressed the button for some hand sanitiser, took a deep breath and opened the door.

The extra weight. That’s what I noticed. My upper left side just felt heavier. No sensation, no pain, no tingling. Just this weight. It was like nothing I’d experienced before.

“Are you in pain?” I’m a bit sore and achey when I move my arm, but nothing major.

The codeine was doing its job. I hated it. I don’t like taking meds, but in this case I knew it was needed. So the codeine “freed” me from pain, and I sat there in the hospital with this heaviness on my left side.

You know the worst thing about surgery? Not the procedure itself. Not the idea of going under general anaesthetic for the first time. I had prepared myself for that. The worst thing about surgery was not eating 7 hours before the procedure.

Seriously! This whole nil by mouth thing?

NOT A FAN!

It doesn’t matter how many people you speak to about breast surgery, the fact of the matter is, it is personal.

You will get people who will give you their input. They will tell you what they would do. What they think would be best.

“Don’t you just want it removed?” I need to.

“It’s better to get it out ASAP.” Yep, I guess you’re right.

“Get the implants. You’ll get a great pair of boobs.” I guess.