The order for labs arrived at 6am this morning and I was in the lab at 6:45 arm hanging ready for blood to be drawn. I wanted this done today, not next week. I did a ton of research on squishy lumps in the breast and more often than not they are benign. They are called adenomas and are clumps of fatty tissue. Why does that not surprise me? I assume the chocolate had to go somewhere.
Our women's clinic is pretty awesome. As you can see I am the only one waiting. There are perks to living in a small town.
My doctor before my current physician told me that because my sister and mother had breast cancer my odds are not an if but a when. I tried Googling that statement and couldn't find anything. I don't know if it is true. Both my mother and sister, I believe, took estrogen. I never have except in birth control pills way back in the day.
When they finally called my name I went in, undressed, and put on the gown. My nurse was a sweetie. She asked to feel my lump and I let her. She said she was curious. I watched her reaction and she said, "Well, let's be hopeful."
I'm not sure what that means.
She inserted my IV then I followed her down the hall. I had the weirdest sensation I had done this before.
"We saw you last year, right?"
The memory rose unbidden. "Yeah, you did."
"Is the lump bigger?"
"No different lump."
"Does it feel different?"
"Yeah it does."
Lord I hate medical charts. I just want to pretend this isn't happening. I am a writer so I get privileges in writing my life's history. Right?
Then I was introduced to the chamber of horrors. My nurse had me lay on my belly, insert my you know whats into the creepy thingy and plant my face into a doughnut hole.
She said, "You OK?"
I could barely hear her through the ear plugs and headset that didn't play music. "Yeah, I'm fine."
With a buzz thump and ping I roll into the chamber.
"Now, don't move, OK?"
"OK."
"Are you OK?"
"Yeah, I"m OK." But I wasn't. I was starting to panic. I couldn't imagine spending 45 minutes in this chamber with nothing but my own thoughts. I write horror and science fiction. This tube was rapidly becoming a giant worm swallowing me whole.
Back in the olden days, when I was in business, I had multiple sets of computers that frequently went on the skids. If I didn't have one problem I had two or ten. I read somewhere that you should say Hail Marys when you are in trouble so I took up the habit of praying over my computers. Now I'm not Catholic but in desperate times you take desperate measures. I never wanted to have the experience of ten doctors standing over me screaming at me to fix the damn computer again. Uh, no. Anything in a pinch.
My prayers worked. To this day I say Hail Mary whenever a computer is in trouble and to this day I can always get them back up to speed. To make a long story short, I started praying immediately. The last thing I wanted to do was scream and run out of the room. Talk about embarrassing.
"Hey, hey. Are you OK?"
"Um yeah." I opened my eyes and blinked. "I think I fell asleep."
"You did. I heard you snoring. You're all done. Sit up and I'll take out your IV."
And that was that. Now starts the wait. Prayers are always welcome.
Our women's clinic is pretty awesome. As you can see I am the only one waiting. There are perks to living in a small town.
My doctor before my current physician told me that because my sister and mother had breast cancer my odds are not an if but a when. I tried Googling that statement and couldn't find anything. I don't know if it is true. Both my mother and sister, I believe, took estrogen. I never have except in birth control pills way back in the day.
When they finally called my name I went in, undressed, and put on the gown. My nurse was a sweetie. She asked to feel my lump and I let her. She said she was curious. I watched her reaction and she said, "Well, let's be hopeful."
I'm not sure what that means.
She inserted my IV then I followed her down the hall. I had the weirdest sensation I had done this before.
"We saw you last year, right?"
The memory rose unbidden. "Yeah, you did."
"Is the lump bigger?"
"No different lump."
"Does it feel different?"
"Yeah it does."
Lord I hate medical charts. I just want to pretend this isn't happening. I am a writer so I get privileges in writing my life's history. Right?
Then I was introduced to the chamber of horrors. My nurse had me lay on my belly, insert my you know whats into the creepy thingy and plant my face into a doughnut hole.
She said, "You OK?"
I could barely hear her through the ear plugs and headset that didn't play music. "Yeah, I'm fine."
With a buzz thump and ping I roll into the chamber.
"Now, don't move, OK?"
"OK."
"Are you OK?"
"Yeah, I"m OK." But I wasn't. I was starting to panic. I couldn't imagine spending 45 minutes in this chamber with nothing but my own thoughts. I write horror and science fiction. This tube was rapidly becoming a giant worm swallowing me whole.
Back in the olden days, when I was in business, I had multiple sets of computers that frequently went on the skids. If I didn't have one problem I had two or ten. I read somewhere that you should say Hail Marys when you are in trouble so I took up the habit of praying over my computers. Now I'm not Catholic but in desperate times you take desperate measures. I never wanted to have the experience of ten doctors standing over me screaming at me to fix the damn computer again. Uh, no. Anything in a pinch.
My prayers worked. To this day I say Hail Mary whenever a computer is in trouble and to this day I can always get them back up to speed. To make a long story short, I started praying immediately. The last thing I wanted to do was scream and run out of the room. Talk about embarrassing.
"Hey, hey. Are you OK?"
"Um yeah." I opened my eyes and blinked. "I think I fell asleep."
"You did. I heard you snoring. You're all done. Sit up and I'll take out your IV."
And that was that. Now starts the wait. Prayers are always welcome.
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