Meet Drainie, temporary name whilst we think of another. Mum just calls it ‘Urgh’ and Adam thinks it should be ‘Fred’ because apparently that’s what I call all my inanimate friends. This is not the morphine talking. They took all the good stuff out of morphine so all its doing is taking away the pain, making me sleep and giving me constipation. Drain Worms are a thing. But for gawd’s sake don’t Google it. The results will be inaccurate and there are some things you can’t unsee.
In the breast cancer world, getting a Drain Worm (coagulated blood inside the tube that takes fluid away from wounds) constitutes entry to an exclusive club. There’s competitions to grow the biggest one and it even has its own hashtag. I am their latest enthusiastic member.
I know you’re all thinking sentences that include the words ‘yuck’ and ‘gross’ but what my friend Drainie has done this week is keep me company and keep me connected. Because this week SUCKED. The home of Drainie has been a constant source of tearing and ripping feelings. The only way to cope was to stay as asleep or drugged up as possible. When I posted about Drainie it opened up a conversation with strangers in the same position and hearing that others were in pain normalised mine. It stopped me panicking. It even made me grateful because some women were in an even worse off state. Who knew that feeling like you’re being gutted by a knife whenever you reached for your phone was the minimum discomfort.
It’s also another one of those amazing human being things we do. We find others. We name it. We make a club. We laugh. Thank you humans for being awesome. Now there’s still this matter of a name for Drainie..