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Married to GI Joe, and the Mother to GI Joe Jr (whom is currently addicted to the Wonderful World of Superheroes), I'm a WV Hillbilly plunked down in a subdivision. I have a backyard garden, crazy neighbors, and a goofy dog that we love on Tuesdays. We love to travel and explore new things, so feel free to browse our life. Sometimes it is exciting, most of the time it is just life. But we are having a good time at it.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Swirl...press...click Swirl...press...click

Well, again…I’ve been mooshed and squished to the point of no return.

I had my follow up mammogram and sonogram/ultrasound yesterday for the ‘numerous abnormalities’ that had appeared in my initial Baseline Mammogram.

Long story short…looks like every thing is fine...we think...

But if you want to read further, I’ll describe my ‘getting friendly’ with the equipment to prepare you for your upcoming session.

Arrived at 830a on the dot. I went to the right sign in window this time, remembered to not wear deodorant and had brought a book.

845a rolls around, the room is packed…and I haven’t been called yet.

850a rolls around…The Stinky Family arrives. The matriarch (known in my head as Wheezy) smells like a pack of Pall Malls, and is wheezing and coughing in a way that can only be best described as ‘Emphysema Oh. My. God. WOMAN…you have EMPHYSEMA!’

Her ride/son/grandson/not really sure, also reeks of Pall Malls, and his wife/girlfriend/neighbor that came along too…she not only reeks of Pall Malls, but today is laundry day. You know how I know that? She told all of us…often…and again. And the more they talked, the more they reeked. I just wished they would go out and grab another smoke, but the hospital has moved their smoking areas to out near the street…I’m sure they were not going to put that much effort into grabbing a smoke. They made sure they preloaded before they came in. Clearly. And Wheezy is gasping for air and hacking up a lung over there.

So I am looking at the windows, HOPING someone would hurry up and get me called back to get my boob in a vice, because I am DYING out here.

FINALLY, at 9a, I get called. To the window. They have no orders. I just smile, arch my eyebrows and look dumb. The girl rolls her eyes, gets up from her chair, and finds the orders in a file behind her. Thanks. I liked the woman who checked me in last time, she had personality.

So I go take my seat...again…with The Stinky Family…because there are no other seats. I think everyone played Musical Chairs while I was gone and proclaimed a game of 'Move your Feet, Lose your Seat'.

Wheezy is still gagging and coughing…she doesn’t have any orders either. And believe me, they checked. We all know. So now they are waiting on the doctors office to call them back. I will happily walk over there and pick them up if this will move things along for them.

915a…finally! My name is called by a woman in scrubs! I am chosen!

Again…strip to the waist, put on the fluffy white robe, and wait some more.

And wait…

And wait…

Geez oh pete! Glad I am not here to have my blood pressure checked.

Finally…here she comes again. I’m hoping she joined in the hunt for Wheezy’s orders and that’s what took so long.

I am getting a follow up mammogram, so that means I get all kinds of more friendly with the mammogram machine. At one point, I am standing on my tip toes, with my arm slung over the thing and my boob in a vice like grip that will render me completely immobile.

The technician acknowledges that I am 'dense'. I take that in a good way when she follows up with 'it keeps us perky!', then I overthink it. I am not sure if she means that I am a dense blonde that is perky...or that I have dense breasts that are perky. Either way...uhm.

And then I get sent for the Sonogram.

So I get to sit in another waiting area.

But Wheezy isn’t here…thank goodness. Just a bunch of other ladies, all in our white robes, sitting there and looking at each other uncomfortably over our books and magazines. They keep offering me coffee too. Really…I’m already wired…I don’t need more.

Back to the Sonogram room we go…where I get all gelled up and sonogrammed.

Right off the bat she comments on my lovely bruise and stitches from having the skin around the atypical mole removed. I explain that ‘I’m a hot mess right now’.

As the tech swirls and presses and clicks, swirls and presses and clicks, I have my neck bent back to watch the screen…cause I wanna see the ‘numerous abnormalities’. Swirl, press and click. Swirl, press and click.

As she gets under my right arm, a familiar sight pops up. Its that damned lactating adenoma that haunted me three years ago! “That thing is still there!” I bust out. Needless to say, it is MUCH smaller, but I recognize that booger right off the bat. She and I discuss it…she takes some pictures…she swirls presses and clicks some more.

Then on to the left side…swirl, press click…swirl press click…

Then out to get the readiologist to look at the clicks.

I’m just sitting there…sticky from the gel…a big gigantic butterfly in my stomach. What if it isn’t benign anymore? What if this is the Big C and it was just hanging out waiting to be found? What if…what if…and I keep staring at the blue and grey plastic padded floor mat at the ultrasound machine…and really wanting to get the hell out of the room at this point.

Then here comes the radiologist…and she’s so nice.

She gels me up…swirl, press and click. Swirl, press and click. We talk about the lactating adenoma…she refers to the old films, refers to the current one, looks at the old one and proclaims ‘WOW , that one was BIG’ Yup. It’s smaller, yes. She thinks it is nothing to worry about…ohkay. But they need a pathology report from the surgeon and will get back with me. We may just watch it, or they may suggest excising it completely. Ohkey dokey.

And she smiles at me…and leaves me to get dressed.

Now what the hell do I do with that???

I get dressed, I walk out (Wheezy and family are still in the waiting room by the way), I get in the car and I come to work.

And I will wait…no biggie. Waiting on the report from the war wound on my stomach too.

Love the waiting game.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I'm thinking of having my first mammary masher this year - I'll be 33, but recently had an old friend pass away from it at 35 so I'm freaking.

After reading this, I'm not so nervous.

Happy thoughts and Best Booby Wishes coming your way....

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