Wednesday August 6:

I'm furious with myself this morning and alternating between tears of frustration and tears of anger! On Monday I tried to drive Laura down to the town as she has been very good and tried to walk everywhere since I had the op but it causes her immense stress because of her condition.

As it has been three weeks now I thought that would be OK. As I fastened the seatbelt I could tell it wasn't going to be OK. The strap comes exactly across the alien's recently vacated home – straight across the nipple! It was only a few minutes driving, but it hurt.

However, I finished my mission without too much pain, but was disappointed. With that in mind, yesterday we decided to try a shopping trip courtesy of public transport. Watford, we proclaimed was to suffer our visit.

Really bad mistake. Firstly, I put on my normal bra. I have always worn under-wired bras in my later years, the better to combat gravity and to contain my ever-burgeoning bosom – some people seem to lose their bust as they get older but mine, well it has turned into a pantomime dame's balcony worthy of Christopher Biggins dressing up routine and requires steel girders to support such large, sad sacks!

Anyway, I was determined to return to normality and despite the rain (why does it always rain when Laura and I go anywhere?) we caught the bus to Watford. It only took six months to get there and the bus wasn't very crowded being only midday, so all was well.

There was a slight panic at the start as Laura needed to find the toilet and we weren't sure which direction to go in. Some young boys giving away free iced coffee (delicious), each pointed us in different directions – why was I reminded of Ant and Dec - so I relied in the end on good old-fashioned signposting.

By the time we had found the toilets, had some lunch, found the toilets again and then the shops we had done a fair bit of walking and my bra was beginning to make its presence felt.

The underarm "slice" still feels sore, a little like someone has inserted a small steel rod just under the incision. I'm hoping this is the healing process and not that the person who was doing the needlework has left the darning needle in!

By now however the under-wire, despite my having protected the site with a dressing, was poking unrelentlessly into the still healing wound. I can only describe it by likening it to having the hook of a metal coat hangar actually hanging from the operation site.

It was becoming almost unbearable and hot beads of sweat were forming that had nothing to do with either my age or the weather! I also felt slightly sick and faint, but dare not mention this to Laura, who was already suffering from the overcrowded shopping centre and herself verging on the edge of one of her famous panic attacks.

Now Laura can't help these episodes, but I can help her to manage them, usually, and I had no intention of letting her down this time. I made an instant decision to buy another bra – a sports bra, nice and soft, it didn't really matter which sort, the cheaper the better or alternatively I could just whip of my bra and...no, don't be silly, after all I still had to get us both home.

I was having to walk around now while Laura was calming down looking at stationery (a particular favourite of hers) with my fleece jacket rolled into a sausage shape and stuck under my arm to keep everything from rubbing and poking.

Believe me I cursed and chastised myself for my vanity and stupidity and thought I deserved every moment of discomfort. I am stubborn, strong willed and proud – normally! Laura was very good about it all and we ran (well, fast walked) into Primark to look at cheap, get-you-home, bras.

My guardian angel was obviously lurking in there and we found the sports bras, my size (unbelievable), a fitting room (only a short queue) and, oh joy! I whipped off my steel girder structure and oh, the relief, instant and wonderful as the coat hanger effect immediately stopped.

Sure, I was still very, very sore but...so far so good. I tried on the bra – it fits, it fits, I could have cried with relief. I could go home supported and as comfy as possible and it was only £4. I brought three; I could see the future very clearly and with several more weeks of holiday to go it seemed obvious. Ditch the ironwork, heave the vanity into touch and wear these wonderful soft creations.

I'm hardly going to do a Paula Radcliffe in them, even though they say "racer back" but I feel rejuvenated enough to try! We catch the return bus, clutching my purchases (wearing one), it's still raining, and Laura with her new pens (well pleased) having abandoned the trip.

We have gone all the way to Watford, had lunch at Burger King (!) found the toilets and are now on our way back. It is an overcrowded bus and sitting on sideways rumble seats we head homewards.

Neither of us is particularly happy, but I have learnt a valuable new lesson and one I will not repeat. I am not superwoman, I have to accept that temporarily my life has changed and my balcony, like all old structures, is under repair and needs treating with respect!

Of course this morning I am paying dearly for that expedition. Too much, too soon. I hurt in a sore, sorry for myself, sort of way. The breast itself, still yellow and blue, is very tender indeed. Too much walking and general movement, I think.

Although it looks wonderfully normal there are granular lumps that hurt to touch, like lumpy sugar to feel under the skin, where there is a small hole, still healing, below the surface.

I think of it like an Eskimo igloo, dome-shaped, not perfect with a tunnel entrance beginning just where this hole is! So, this alien came from an Ice Age planet, then?

I have to swallow painkillers again and it's just not fair. If I were two years old I think I would throw myself on the floor and kick and scream but...my mind ponders this for a moment. No, it would hurt too much.

Off to the doc's later to see if my blood pressure is really bad or not – fingers crossed. Have returned. Yes. I have high blood pressure – quite high, apparently. Blood test ordered – the fasting kind for next week. Anything else I want to ask the powers that be? You know, to save me coming again? Might as well get the lot over with!!!!

Part 16 next week

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