Ok, so what’s the word I was least expecting to hear today at my pre-assessment clinic? Yep, you’ve got it: leeches (followed swiftly by ‘glue’, ‘girdles’ and, that old favourite, the ‘catheter’!

You could be forgiven for thinking that the introduction of leeches into the breast surgery mix is a bit random. I certainly did. The good news is, the chances of meeting them are slim. The bad news is, they tend to come in pairs (or worse threes) if they do make an appearance.

A fascinating tissue reconstruction fact for you. New bionic boobie (sounds better than tummy fat shoved up top) gets checked every 15 minutes or so for around a day after surgery to make sure it’s still alive. If it’s looking a bit sick, in come Mr and Mrs (and possibly auntie) leech to have a play and help things along. This is a party to which only the boob gets invited, but I have been reliably informed that they will be monitored closely in case they fancy going travelling.

Today was fascinating in many ways. Here are some fun facts of the day:

1)    My lovely breast care nurse mentioned that, because the tummy is tight, it is likely I will be fitted with a band or girdle to keep it all in and make sure the ‘glue’ sticks. That and big knickers! Oh, cancer you are spoiling me.

2)    I am now a research guinea pig. I am participating in a clinical trial with the exciting title of: Multifrequency Bioimpedance in the Early Detection of Lymphoedema. This basically means they will measure the volume of liquid in my arm at certain intervals over the next five years to see whether or not they can spot changes that may lead to a rather nasty arm swelling

3)    I currently have 2.5 litres of fluid in my right arm. This means nothing (yet), but I thought it sounded like a lot of liquid for a little arm.

4)    They use a giant old-fashioned called a perometer to measure your arm. You even get to hold a plastic tool that looks like a cake polisher while you are holding it up in the air (oh the glamour). Note to self: when they say sleeveless top they mean a sleeveless top. The other test lasts about a minute and involves three stickers (one on each wrist and one on the right ankle) and a few electric wires. I was intrigued, as was the nurse getting a lesson in taking the test.

5)    Today’s blood test was completely painless. I didn’t even know when the needle had gone in. Amazed, I applauded her on her incredible skill. Her tip: she used to practise by sewing socks. A skilled phlebotomist, a seamstress and a thifty lady (who also had a similar bag to me) = my kind of lady!

Aside from the leeches and the well-sewn socks, I have established that there are many positives to being on the surgeon’s slab for about a day (beyond the induced sleep):

• I will have a flat tummy by Saturday
• I get breakfast, lunch and dinner in bed
• I get a compulsory week of no exercise
• Having the lymph nodes out on the dominant arm is actually better because you are more inclined to start moving it more quickly. Less fear of ‘robot arm’
• There is a good month before I can do any heavy lifting (I would put kettles, groceries and hoovers on that list. The physio did suggest this could be a ‘flexible’ deadline if that helped me avoid tasks for a little longer. Lovely physio, nice tip!
• I can wash my own hair
• I probably won’t need to use a bedpan (quiet whoop)!
• Some pilates moves are already part of the post-op exercise plan (albeit lighter than my normal Wednesday early morning reformer class.

Only real shame is the op part. Let’s not dwell on the seromas, nausea, wound infection or, best yet, dead boob!

Tune in for the post-surgery hospital ‘I-wish-I’d-known-that-before-I-went-in’ checklist!