Forget about Friday,
today was my day of stressing beyond belief. This afternoon, at 2:30 p.m., was the yearly exam that I had been dreading. I had managed to put it off a bit, but realized I needed to get it out of the way prior to surgery and thus arrived just in time for the annual 'ogram at Sibley this afternoon.
I was a wreck. We went to the wrong imaging department at first and I could barely choke out the reason I was there. While then waiting for the elevator to get to the right wing of the hospital, I remarked how I wasn't even supposed to be there yet. Really, this type of exam doesn't start until one (well, a woman) hits age 40. Lucky me, I started two years early. Peter nodded and agreed, but it didn't change the fact that I was scared beyond belief. I knew nothing was wrong, but God forbid there was a false positive...
We finally arrived in the right location and I filled out all of the necessary forms. Oddly enough, we had passed by my breast surgeon on the way to the check-up...you know (to me) that was a bad sign. Surely, I was destined to get bad news, especially as at that particular moment, Peter and I were actually laughing and joking.
A few minutes after our arrival, the receptionist called me back. I changed, put my clothes in a locker and sank into a chair in the gowned waiting room. Unlike in October 2010, I couldn't even touch a People magazine or any other guilty pleasure. After all, wouldn't it be my luck to come in and find out (only three days before surgery) that yet something else was wrong?
Not 10 minutes later, I was called back. Due to the fact that I still have an implant on the left side (for cosmetic purposes only), there was much manipulation involved and two extra shots. Oh, and did I mention the confusion over why I was there? For whatever reason, the script incorrectly said I was there for a pre-radiation mammogram...shudder. No, just a normal screening. I clarified for the technologist and she went on with her work.
I do have to give her credit. I never learned her name, but I know she could tell I was nervous. She didn't say too much, just gave me gentle direction and went about her work. Not too much chatting and when we were finished, she gently guided me into yet another waiting room.
Which would have been fine, except I was already worried. It was a general waiting room, so a grandmotherly type was also seated, waiting for her results. She started chatting about my shoes, how they looked so comfy (could she tell I was ready to...?), and just kept talking. I couldn't help but engage in the small talk until a nurse walked in and told the woman she was in the clear and free to go. However, I still had to wait until they could review my films, compare them to the old films and give me the results.
There was lots of action in the background and someone was having an issue somewhere. I could overhear a conversation and then drifted off. The next thing I knew, in my mind, I was being directed to another room, they had called Peter in and everything went downhill. I saw myself being biopsied and just as I was imagining myself curled up in bed, hugging Nicholas and bawling my eyes out, the nurse bounced in.
"Here's your paperwork, you are all clear and good to go! See you next year!"
I sprinted back to the changing area. As I was changing, I responded to a friend who had texted me that all would be fine...and let her know she was right. I managed a slightly furrowed brow as I headed into the waiting room, but broke into a grin before Peter could get too worried. In fact, I was so giddy that I was simply going to walk out until I realized that I still had my balled-up gown in my hands. I walked back into the waiting area, handed the gown to a nurse and we both had a good chuckle.
I had a good chuckle...after a mammogram...picture that. Then, I left. No, I BOLTED out of the door. Even better? The more time that passes, the more I realize I need to quit worrying, as I am reminded again and again that this was just a blip. In fact, I'm *almost* excited about Friday and having a stellar reason to test out my new recliner (and perhaps not stress about tomorrow's appointment with the oncologist?)!