I said yes to the mastectomy in about four seconds. It was the obvious decision and I have never regretted it. What nobody prepared me for was missing something I had actively asked them to take.
She was born at twenty-nine weeks and for three months other people knew how to look after her and I did not. The kindest thing anyone did was to teach me one small job that was only mine.
It is in my notes, I have seen it: "poorly compliant with fluid restriction". Four years of doing something impossibly hard imperfectly, summarised as a character flaw. Here is what that word does.
Seventeen years, four consultants, roughly forty thousand injections. The insulin I can do in my sleep. What I have never got used to is being spoken to as though my blood sugar is a report card on my character.