There’s an running joke that Googling your symptoms, whatever they might be, will always tell you that you have cancer. So I knew better than to even think of Googling ‘lump in breast’ last night. Besides, given the size of the lump I saw, if it was cancer, I’d already be dying. My best guess is that it might be a blocked duct, that I just happened to see before it actually got painful. Still I was a little freaked out and decided that if it was still there and didn’t start hurting by Monday I’d call the doctor.
No worries. By bedtime it was getting sore. By morning it was excruciating. (I guess this is one time that night-weaning backfired on me.) Then add a nursing baby who doesn’t understand the word ‘gentle’ (really, we’re working on it) into the mix… Since the solution to nearly all breastfeeding issues is more breastfeeding, he became essentially the world’s clumsiest doctor as I set him to work on clearing the plug. Following bashing me on the bridge of my nose with his hard, hard head (not related except that it really hurt) with grabbing at the painful boob had me in tears.
Luckily Andrew brought me some Tylenol, and more importantly, took Cameron to make breakfast while I slept!