Call Me Maybe

I was called back.  After 5 years of clear mammograms, I was called back. I couldn't believe it -- here I was, on the glorious edge of Retirement, and I get a freaking call from Kaiser about returning for a second mammogram and an ultrasound. Apparently, they had found something *interesting* in my smidge of a right breast. Okay, I reasoned, it must be really miniscule, a veritable dust mite, if they found it in one of my pea-like boobs.  So I managed to stop hyperventilating for 5 minutes and made the appointment for Friday, October 5.  

I wish I could say I calmed down after that.  But alas, I just managed to scare myself witless by going on the internuts and finding the discussion forums of Breastcancer.org.  This is a wonderful site, an amazing site, a hyperactive ganglion of precious first-hand information about breast cancer, but, being the incredibly stupid nosey person that I am, I also peered into threads like *Sharp Shooting Pain Feels like I am Being Stabbed* and *My Breast Feels like a Ticking Time Bomb.*  Uh oh. Not a good idea.

Two days later, I am back at Kaiser.  The second mammogram wasn't too bad -- I think New Nursie was warned that my breasts bear a fleeting resemblance to garbanzo beans, so I got a better, less painful machine -- Huzzahhh!   The ultrasound wasn't bad either -- Nursie smeared some really cold jellied stuff on my breast, and then tried to iron me like a fine linen blouse.  After consulting with the radiologist (who was somewhere else on the premises), Nursie announced that they had found 2 very small cysts and that I was free to go, although they would like to check up on the little buggers again after 6 months. OH JOY!  I then leaped off the examination table, threw my bra in the trash (it was an old bra anyway, probably from high school) and ran off with my sister to Carls Jr. for some lovely fried onion rings.  Really, it takes so little to make me happy.

                                                           This makes me happy too!

Mammograms: When the World Is Flat!

Have you ever had a mammogram when your mammos stopped growing at age 9?  Yes, girls, not only do I wear an alluring A Cup, but I do believe I am an A- !  I've seen cheese wontons that put my chest to shame.  So you can imagine my embarrassment & frank dismay when I go to KAISER for my annual mammogram.

This year, they had a new machine.  No, it didn't have a microscope (that would have been more practical with my nut-like specimens) but it had A TRAY!  A TRAY!  A tray upon which to pour one's *lush womanly curves* so that it may be examined for unnatural growths (like, an additional fat cell maybe) by the charming nursie/technician.  Fortunately, Startled Nursie saw my dilemma, discreetly removed the tray and replaced it with the customary glass plates on which to photograph my near invisible thingamabobs.  Poor Nursie!  For 15 minutes, she squeezed, pummeled, kneaded, twisted, moved my arms this way & that, and exclaimed, "Oh dear, did that hurt?" and that was just the first breast.  By the end of the mammogram, I was in tears, convinced that if I didn't have cancer before, I certainly had it now, since the pain was near unbearable.  Did I have any breast left?  Surely she had squashed my meagre endowments to the size of a sausage patty.

At last, Exhausted Nursie left the room with the 4 precious plates of my mammogram. Five minutes later, she returned and said, smiling, that I would get a letter in 2 weeks.  It sounds like good news, but we'll see when I get that notice in the mail.  At this point, I'm just hoping my breasts will grow back in time for the next mammogram.

 

When Waterboarding might be preferable ...