Oh Dear! Or, why I grabbed my boob.

One of the things about pain meds is that they don’t always make the pain go away. Instead, they make you apathetic about the pain through distraction or chemically induced warm fuzzies.

The upside of this is, obviously, you don’t care. The down side is that you don’t really care or notice other things too. Things you might normally be very mindful of, such as, say … being inappropriate at work.

So there I am, sitting at my desk, blissfully distracted from the neuropathy that has been absolutely maddening for the past week. My doc has suggested that I take more pain meds to control it. I dutifully took one this morning, something I wouldn’t normally do because, HELLO, pain meds at work aren’t always the most productive.

Even when I’m, shall we say, “sober” lately, I’ve been preoccupied by the changes my body is going through over the past month and a half. I’ve lost 15 pounds. FUCK YEAH! But of course this means that a unfair portion of this weight is coming off of my boobs. Not fair, Universe. Totally not fair. I was a AA until steroids, and my C cups were the only good things Prednisone gave me. I am now probably heading towards a B. Sigh.

I was working on a spreadsheet, thinking of numbers and my shrinking body. I was totally productive, mind you. But I felt something warm on my right breast. I look down, and there I am at work, for all the world to see, cupping my own right boob in my left hand.




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