If you click the label "breast saga" at the bottom of this post, it should lead you to the whole boring story, and my super sub-par drawings! Hooray!
Okay, so what have I been up to lately? OH RIGHT! Freaking out! Yay!
I'm tired of freaking out.
I had a totally stupid convo with the tech lady in the x-ray department of the hospital. Why the hell are we responsible for bringing our own mammogram x-rays with us to a consultation for a biopsy? I mean, WHAT THE F*CK?!
Well, she was all confused that I thought I was getting a biopsy at the specialist's office, because they're always done in the HOSPITAL. Then she was all slightly chastising that it's a GOOD THING I called, because it's a HOLIDAY and she's the only one there, and she has to GO DOWN THE BASEMENT to get my x-rays and I'd BETTER GET THERE before THREE because it's a HOLIDAY and she'll be gone by then.
At that point I felt like shouting; "YEAH? IT'S NOT A FUCKING HOLIDAY FOR ME!"
Apparently the important people of the world get a day off for Remembrance Day yesterday.
Anyhoo, because she thought it was so weird I was going for a "biopsy" at the specialist's and was sure it would be just a consultation, I had to get on the phone AGAIN and double check with the specialist.
DAMN IT. I was totally mentally prepared for a big old needle in the hoot. I was so prepared in fact, that I was PISSED OFF when I found out it was just a consultation. WHAT DOES HE NEED TO CONSULT WITH ME ABOUT?!? I ranted. JUST STICK THE NEEDLE IN!!!
But alas, that is not how the medical world works. You must go through the tedious chain of command and all that bullshit.
So my dad drove me to the hospital, and we picked up the x-rays, and then we walked over NEXT DOOR TO THE MEDICAL BUILDING AND....
WAAAIT A MINUTE....HUSBAND TOOK THE CALL ON FRIDAY AND SAID THEY WERE IN THE MEDICAL BUILDING....YEAH...THE MEDICAL BUILDING BY FREAKING ZELLERS!!!!
DAMN IT, HUSBAND!!!
So we drove over to the correct medical building of Dr. Rajagoblahblah and waited for freaking ever. Then they finally called me in.
"The Doctor will want to examine you, so take off everything from the waist up and put the robe on with the opening facing the front."
Okay. No problem.
No problem, except the FREAKING ROBE is either made from someone extremely small and svelte, or it's made for a CHILD.
No way that thing would cover my honks.
Is this done on purpose? You know...to make it sexier?
This is what I imagined:
At this point I was just not stressed any longer. The too small robe just made this whole business ridiculous. I actually laughed a bit.
Well, I grabbed a handful of the robe, held it together, and waited FOR. EV. ER. for the doctor to come in. I read a Reader's Digest magazine and then I gave up and started singing to myself.
Right after my scary visit with my doctor on Friday, My sister immediately posted this Bob Marley song to my facebook. It made me cry at the time, but now I like it.
"Don't worry about a thing cuz every little thing, gonna be alright!"
FINALLY the doctor came in! He was pleasant enough but businesslike. The 'nodule' they are concerned about is so small he could not feel it by hand.
Apparently there is some sort of 6 point assessment scale for breast nodules. If it's a '6' it's definitely cancer. If it's a '5' it might not be cancer, but chances are, it's cancer. If it's a '4' they don't know what it is and have to check it out.
My bumple is a 4.
Luckily it is so small, that if it is anything C-ish, it will be very easy to treat. The doctor said it isn't anything I should "get excited about."
Good enough for me!
And so, tomorrow I'll get a phone call about when my biopsy is. He kind of smiled apologetically: he'd requested the biopsy on Friday, but, well, YOU KNOW HOW IT IS--TODAY'S A HOLIDAY.
IT'S NOT A F*CKING HOLIDAY FOR ME!
Come on ladies, it's time to sing: