On Monday, I had two core needle biopsies. For those of you who don’t know what a core needle biopsy is, I’ll tell you. It’s a 12 gauge hollow needle that is stabbed into your boob to take out a glob of your tissue to test for irregularities. I had one of these stabbed into each boob. It wasn’t pleasant. And has left me with bruising and two rather bewildered and offended breasts. They’ll never trust me again.
On Tuesday, I decided not to cycle into work, as the doctor told me not to do any heavy lifting or press-ups for three days so as to not make the wounds in my boobs start bleeding again. So I took the DLR. And while switching trains at Westferry I somehow ended up between the train and the platform. Yes, I didn’t mind the gap, apparently. I didn’t even realise there were gaps on the DLR. But now I know, people.
I’m off to Brussels for two nights tomorrow, and walking on this leg isn’t particularly pleasant. I guess I’ll just have to park myself at a Belgian restaurant and eat moules frites and drink beer all day.