Thursday, December 17, 2009

Word forward.

Let's talk about my rack, shall we?

Today, I got a mammogram, courtesy of Deaf Ladydoctor's orders. Now, we all know that I hate Deaf Ladydoctor, but getting a mammogram was probably a good idea anyway. And the people at the boob clinic? All nice as can be. I wanted to hug them all.

So, I got a mammogram. And then I waited. I sat in the "inner waiting room," me and my peeps, hanging out in these little cape things. My peeps are all, you know, pretty much old enough to be my mom.

You get treated differently at the boob clinic when you're 34. People give you that look. And you realize that none of the magazines appeal to you. All those articles in More about aging gracefully? Umm?

At some point during the waiting, I decided that I Don't Belong There.

And then word came back that oh yes, the doc thought I should go ahead and get an ultrasound. But they were backed up in the boob clinic, right? So they very graciously gave me an extra gown to go over my cape thing and walked me down to the sonogram clinic in the hospital ... where there are sick people.

I sat and waited next to a lady in a wheelchair. She had a binder with her chart in it, an oxygen tank, and about three inches of grey roots.

I didn't belong there, either. I certainly didn't belong with people who are sick. I am not sick. I was only there because I have a shitty doctor who doesn't listen to me when I say that everything is fine!

And I waited.

And then I was on a gurney in a dark room, making small talk with a very nice tech as she did an ultrasound of my boob.

"What's that black thing?" I asked.

"It's a cyst."

"And that right there - is that the same cyst?"

"No, it's a different one."


Basically, my boob is a pomegranate and all the seeds are cysts. I am cystastic. Cystoriffic. Actually, I believe the technical term is fibrocystic breast disease.

And so darling tech left the room to go find the doctor. And I waited on that stupid gurney, in that stupid room, wearing that stupid cape thing. I didn't belong there. I am healthy. This was all a waste of time and a big misunderstanding.

And then the darling tech came in and told me that since the cysts changed with my cycle that everything was fine, and that I only have to come back in if something changes or hurts. So, ta-da! Put on your shirt and go home! You don't even have to check out!

I left with just enough time to go home, grab Foxie Doxie, and drag him to his follow-up appointment for his Professional Dental Cleaning.

He was adorably freaked out the whole time. But I managed to keep my shit together even when I learned that the vet we usually see, the sweet man who saved the Geriatric Poodle's life at least twice ... has some bad shit going down. A tumor in his chest, which has spread to a few vertebrae ... and mets in his brain. At least I managed to wait until I was in the car to start crying.

It's been sort of a day.

There's only one thing that will make me feel better: make up some holiday movie sequel goodness and enter my fabulous giveaway. Seriously. It will make me laugh. And will probably cure cancer, promote world peace, and vaporize cysts.


sherilee said...

Glad you got the all-clear on the cyst situation. That must have felt good!

OK, I'm going to go post my sequel now, over on your original call for entries. I can't promise it will make you laugh, however...

Unknown said...

Sorry you had a rough day. I don't have a rack but am fibrocystic too, so I understand what you are going through Glad you got a clean bill of health. I am guessing Foxie did too.

My prayers go out to your vet. Sounds just like what my father went through.

Had a rough day myself yesterday, although not as bad as yours, but am still not feeling creative enough to enter your contest.

Anonymous said...

So sorry about your vet. And the rack--but glad the news at the end of THAT ordeal was good. I'd have cried, too, for that man if I were you.

Average Jane said...

I am cystorrific myself, but I'm not willing to give up caffeine to improve the situation.

Tumble Fish Studio said...

So glad your boobs are all okay! I have lots of those fibroid things - one I've had since I was 18 and it's about the size of a grape in a less than great place in one of my pancakes and it hurts like a son of a gun but they always say it's nothing to worry about. I will live with said grape so that I may continue to ingest significant amounts of fountain coke. I would rather be even more boobless than give up my coke. Anyway, sorry to hear about your vet - sending prayers.

8 said...

What a pain in the butt to go through all that with your rack to be told it is all fine....... glad the news was good news though. Super glad you took the time and energy to go in. Better to know than to avoid it....

mel said...

Glad you got the all clear. So sorry about your vet. I'd totally break down too if something were up with our vet. We love him dearly.

Thinking of you...