The appointment was like deja vu, I’ve done this quite a few times before. I breezed into Women’s Imaging and Colleen checks me in. The ID bracelet is on and I sit, I read, I wait. No surprises here. I’m honestly not worried. The past few days were a little unnerving but I’ve come to understand that things show up on mammograms all the time. In fact, 80 percent of the time, it turns out to be nothing. Fact.
The technician calls me back and shows me to the changing room. Did I mention that I’ve been here before? I take everything off from the waist up. change into the comfy short robe, and lock my things in the locker. I never forget to take the key with me. She is waiting in the hall to take me into the procedure room. I follow her in and we go through the usual questions. I verify my birthday and address. No, I don’t have any pain or discharge. No, I can’t feel any lumps. Yes, I’ve had a problem before. But, that’s a story for another day….
The technician explains the procedure. It’s the same as a regular mammogram, only different. We use a smaller plate with more compression. I take a deep breath, it’s not going to be comfortable but I have a very high tolerance for pain. I’m ready, let’s get this done.
But then I stop dead in my tracks. The image from my last mammogram is on the technician’s screen. I’ve seen my images before. including the problematic ones of a few years ago. What I see is now is nothing like what I’ve seen before. Now, I’m worried.
To say this mammogram is uncomfortable is an understatement of epic proportion. It’s a special form of torture reserved for those that have wronged others in a past life. Note to self, ramp up on the good deeds….soon. Once I’m done with the mammogram, the technician passes me off to the ultrasound technician. I’ve had ultrasounds before so I lay back on the table with my left arm behind my head. She goes to work and I take some deep breaths to try to keep my heart from beating out of my chest. A few minutes later, I’m done. Or am I??? The technician tells me that she’s going to step out to get the radiologist
And there you have it ladies and gentleman, the first indication that something isn’t quite right. Now, I’m nervous. This is not the way I hoped my Wednesday off from work would go. Prior to last year, I typically scheduled my mammograms during the week but for the last two years, I scheduled it on Saturday. During the week, there are radiologists in the office, not so much on Saturday. In the past, I’ve never had a radiologist come into the room. I usually get a no cause for concern, no evidence of cancer letter in the mail.
Enter Dr. Arkansas…..He comes in the room, introduces himself, and he and the ultrasound technician get to work. And a few minutes later, it’s over. Dr. Arkansas, I later find out, is the Director of Radiology at the Women’s Imaging Center. We start talking family history. Yes, I have family history of breast cancer, my mom was 49 when she was diagnosed. Yes, she’s still with us. No, there’s no history of colon cancer in the family. No, there are no other major health issues in the family. I’m about to come unglued when he tell me there is no reason for panic. Yes, there may be something here on the image, but 80 percent of the time, it’s nothing. Then, he’s gone.
The technician takes me to the back waiting room. I’ve been here before. This is the room where they take you while they figure out whether or not you’re going to get good or bad news. I sit and wait. There’s a TV, books, and magazines, none of which I can concentrate on. I aimlessly flip through O magazine. I try to read Dr. Phil and Suze Ormond’s columns but concentration is futile. Enter Dr. Arkansas and the ultrasound technician, they cl0se the door behind them. Not good. Nothing good comes of closed doors. He explains what he sees and recommends a biopsy. He still tries to explain that there is an 80 percent chance this is nothing. I’m not convinced, not one bit. He explains the different types of biopsies and how they’re performed. Do I have any questions, he asks. I’m too speechless to articulate anything other than a no that sounds more like a whimper. They tell me that they will call to schedule the biopsy and just like that, they’re gone.
I slink back to the dressing room to change. I ask Colleen to cut my wrist band off before I leave. And now I have to tell Mars……