I've Had Enough For One Day

One chiropractor visit, one screening mammogram, one diagnostic mammogram, 120 miles driven, and one pair of Capri's with a "suspicious stain." Yesterday was such a lovely day.

(I also found out that my dad had to have unexpected surgery yesterday to remove his gall bladder. Love you, Mom and Dad!)

The chiro visit went fine. The doctor gave me a list of of stretches including a few that were recommended in the comment section. It's nice to know that some of you have tried the stretches already and found them to be helpful.

After the chiropractor, I was on the road to Raleigh for my mammogram appointment. Halfway through the (very fun) process, I asked the technician when the scans would be read. She said that as a rule, screening mammograms are read the following day; if all is well, a letter is sent out the next day. She added that if there were any problems, the patient would get a phone call before the letter arrived.

Then she looked at the screen and said, "Hmmmm."

Don't you just love it when medical personnel say, "Hmmmm?"

Me neither.

After she had "Hmmmmm-ed" for a sufficient period of time she added, "From what I'm seeing here, I can just about guarantee that you're going to have to have additional scans."

Don't you just love it when medical personnel say, "You're going to have to have additional scans?"

Me neither.

I explained to her that I done my best to get my mammogram done before August because our insurance is changing the first of the month and our co-payment and deductible will be higher.

I said, "Is there any way the follow up mammogram could be done tomorrow if I hand delivered the films somewhere today?"

She ran off and made some phone calls and before I knew it, I was out the door with a huge pile of films and reports under my arm. My understanding was that I was to deliver them to a doctor who would look at them and call me back in the morning.

Instead they sat me down in the waiting room. So I commenced to wait.

What I really wanted to was get up and get a magazine (since I am a compulsive reader) but unfortunately, all the magazines were in a basket.

And the basket was on the floor.

Unfortunately, it is very difficult for me right now to bend over; I have to spread out my legs like a newborn giraffe and then lunge forward in as speedy a manner as possible in an effort to decrease the amount of time that my back is in a "stretched out position." It is not a pretty picture.

Since there were other patients around me, I was not real comfortable doing my "baby giraffe, lunging woman" routine in front of them and so I sat and stared longingly at the magazines. And rubbed my aching back. And wondered what in the world the technician had seen on my mammogram. And longed for chocolate.

After about twenty minutes, the nurse came back out and said, "The doctor looked at your films and said you definitely need additional mammograms done on both sides; do you have time for us to do them right now?"

Now what is your first thought when a doctor asks for additional views of an area of your body? You immediately think, "Oh no. They've found something."

Stress, stress, stress.

So far my day had included: Chiropractor visit, back pain, stiff neck, a drive to Raleigh, screening mammogram, a race across the city with scan results, strong desire to lie down and take a nap, and now being informed that there is "something" on my mammogram.

Maybe I should add, "Lie down in the fetal position and suck my thumb" to that list?

To make a long and tiring story shorter (but still tiring), I went through a very thorough round of additional pictures all the while wondering, "What in the world did they see that is requiring all of this extra screening?"

After the technician finally disappeared to show the films to the doctor, I groaningly lowered myself to a chair to rest my aching back. As I sat there in my attractive blue gown, I nervously tapped my fingers and contemplated the unthinkable.

She finally returned and told me that there were suspicious micro-classifications in both breasts, but they were more prevalent on the left. The radiologist said that some physicians might recommend a biopsy on the left side; however, he was comfortable with waiting six months and re-scanning to see if anything had changed.

Great. Just what I need. Mysterious "somethings" in both breasts that I have to wait six months to investigate further?

Oh goody! I was just hoping for more stress!

I have always been an "interesting" case to my doctors in the area of breast health. Over fifteen years, I have had multiple cysts drained, I have had lumps examined, biopsied and/or removed, I've had calcifications biopsied by way of stereotactic surgery, I've been put to sleep for several procedures and surgeries, and I have spent hours and days worrying and waiting on results.

With all of those things being factors in my health, my various doctors have had two ways of looking at things.

The first is this: "Well yes, you have had a lot of 'issues' but since everything has been benign so far, that seems to be in your favor."

The opposite view I've been told is this: "Since your breasts have a habit of producing abnormal, irregular tissue, it's just a matter of time before something that is produced will turn out to be cancerous."

Have a nice day.

Let me just say that by the time I staggered out of the radiology clinic (back aching, head swimming) got back on the loop around the city, realized I was going the wrong direction, got off an exit to turn around and then couldn't find a place to get back on the loop, and then fought rush hour traffic, I was just a wee bit tired. And stretched. And exhausted. And weary.

After I got home, I told my family the whole story, ate dinner and then went upstairs to put on my pj's for an early bedtime.

Much to my horror and dismay, when I took off my pants I happened to notice (right below the "seat" area) this lovely sight.




I obviously sat in some sort of "chocolate conglomeration" at some point in the day. And when that was? I have no idea.

What I DO know is that I sashayed through three waiting rooms (chiropractor and two doctor's offices) and I walked through many halls with many medical people.

I don't even want to guess at how many people saw that "mysterious stain" and I don't even want to guess as to what their guesses were concerning its origin.

Once I saw that stain, I gave up on the day. I flung the pants into the laundry, took two Benadryl, some more Tylenol and collapsed into bed at 7:30.

And I said to myself something Nathan used to say when he was quite small and quite tired. "I've had enough for one day."