******Before I go into too much detail, know that this post has a happy ending…no need to worry or panic******
So a week ago today I had my yearly mammogram. I won’t go into all the details…at least half of you have done it. You know the drill…undress from the waist up, act blase when the technician puts the little bb-like thing on your nipple and step up to the torture sophisticated medical equipment.
She positions you and then turns on the machine that squeezes the breath out of you. Then you get dressed and go on your merry way. Everytime I’ve done this, I got a letter a few days later telling me that all is well. Until this time.
Friday the nurse called from my doctor’s office. There’s a shadow…we need to take another look. You’re scheduled for next Thursday. I went numb…and dumb. Just said thank you and hung up the phone. (Why do we say thank you when someone tells us horrible things?)
So I fretted all weekend. For those of you who don’t know, I had lymphoma in 2002 and went through six months of chemo…an experience I am not eager to repeat.
Today, when I realized that I couldn’t breath, I called the nurse back and basically had a “come apart” on the phone. She reassured me that this happens all the time, but said that she’d try to get me in sooner for the follow-up tests. And she did…so I went back this afternoon.
I put on the stupid little capelet and once again shoved my body into the torture sophisticated medical equipment. And then I waited. Technician came back…had to do it again because I moved. So we did it again. And I waited again.
Technician came back and said we need an ultrasound. So I sat around in the stupid little capelet some more…just wishing I could remember how to breathe.
Different technician comes back to take me for the ultrasound. And asks if a new employee can watch. I was a little dumbfounded, but nodded that it would be ok.
So we do the ultrasound. She smears smelly petroleum jelly in the appropriate area and starts looking around.
I’m still trying to breathe.
When she’s done she goes to visit the radiologist. She’s gone forever.
Finally, she comes back and tells me that the radiologist isn’t impressed at all with my breast and that I’m fine and free to go.
I don’t know whether to be relieved or insulted. Just what does he mean by “not impressed?” 🙂