Throw in another mammogram in-between activities would ya? 4/16/2010

My friend and co-worker, Walt, had proposed a wonderful new Piano Extravaganza concert in the area. I had the privilege of helping to get it organized, arrange for tickets, do the letter writing, etc. I was thoroughly enjoying all the activity that and our upcoming Chorale concert was adding to my life. I was grateful to be busy almost every day, enjoyed socializing with my friends, and felt life was truly great in every way. I was tired at night but sometimes too wired to sleep any length of time. I'm a night owl and I enjoy it. Lots of quiet thinking and working time in the wee hours.

I received a letter on April 7th from breast imagining. Seems some of my pictures taken April 2 "showed a finding that requires additional imaging studies for a complete exam". I received a phone call from the department on the 12th and my surgeon's office that afternoon. They contacted the Breast Imagining Dept. at Mercy Hospital and informed me there was an opening on Friday, April 16. What else could I do but accept it? Couldn't shake the odd feeling that something might not be right with my world this time.

Time for the repeat performance: give your insurance card and drivers license; answer the usual questions; tell them who they can share your information with; sign a consent form; and down the hall to the dressing room you go. This one had a locker for my belongings and a waiting room with only one other person besides me. I was in quickly and pretty confident that I would be able to make a fast exit. After all, how many more pictures could they possibly need anyway?

My left breast was the featured attraction this time, the technician friendly, caring and very considerate of my discomfort. "Move a little here", "lean into the machine", "this may pinch a little"...yeah right, a little? How about a lot! Ouch! That one had my eyes closing and I was biting my lip. Something definitely isn't right here.

She viewed the pictures, I looked too. Seemed like a lot of white areas but I have dense breasts so I didn't think too much of it at first until my eyes were drawn to one area. There, slightly above center left, was a distinct white dot that seemed, thanks to my vivid imagination, to stare right back at me. Could that be something I should worry about? Should I be? My monkey mind began to toss thoughts back and forth about that white ink blot! Before I could obsess about it too much, the gray mammo monster released me from its jaws and the technician asked me to wait outside in the lounge area. She needed to have the films checked to make sure the doctors had the views they wanted.

The waiting area now had six other women in it. One was wearing a lovely head wrap because she no longer had her hair. Another was sharing her struggles trying to pay for her treatments since she didn't have any insurance, while another was 'one year clear' and was trying to keep the conversation in the room as light and positive as possible. In just those few minutes, reality stepped in. I was surrounded by women dealing with cancer. That was the first time I seriously thought, "what if my little dot is the problem and it is malignant? This could be me."

The technician called me in again, took a few more pictures, apologizing because of the location of the area the doctor was concered about and how difficult it was to get clearly. More pushing, squishing, leaning, holding your breath, and more discomfort. She asked me politely to have a seat in the waiting room again.

By now, three of the ladies were gone and it was quiet except for a television sitcom. What was likely just a few minutes, seemed like an hour to me. Thank goodness for some distraction from "Everybody Loves Raymond" reruns! She came back, apologized and asked for two more views, sure that would be it this time. The third time was the part that began to worry me. I know the technician was doing an excellent job. I saw the pictures and noticed that the little white ink blot was the featured attraction and in the pit of my stomach.

When the surgeons office called to schedule an appointment to review my pictures and arrange for a biopsy, I only asked it be after May 2nd. I needed to enjoy everything, finish all that I had started, celebrate with friends and audience members alike, and be present in each day as if there was absolutely nothing wrong inside my body. For those two weeks, I did my best to forget about that white ink blot on my films because there wasn't anything I could do about it anyway.

Mammogram One: The Lakes 4/2/2010

Well, that didn't take any time at all! I had just arrived at home from my first visit to the doctor when I received a call asking if I would be willing to go to the Lakes office for my mammogram at 8:15 Friday. Even though that's usually about the time I get up, now that I'm retired and don't have to crawl out at 5am anymore, I agreed. Thought it was pretty amazing to get an appointment that quickly...didn't dawn on me there might be another reason for the rush.

Arrived on time at the clinic to fill out the paper work, did the usual walk down the hall to locate the dressing room, get the instructions and find a seat to warm and wait. Don't you just love the gowns? I wonder who designs them? Maybe Project Runway should have that as a challenge? At least these are the waist-up versions that tie in the front. You don't have to worry about those full length models and feeling the air on your backside!

I was ushered in and placed before the "big gray mammo monster", my description of the breast squishing mammogram machine. Granted, it is much more accommodating than the older versions, can move around you rather than having you perform pretzel like positions, and has a variety of settings so your chances of getting squeezed to the point of screaming has lessened substantially over the years.

The technician was very friendly but most importantly, she was gentle. She carefully helped make sure I was placed correctly, as comfortable as was reasonably possible, and she explained every step to me. She truly did her best. But putting my breast where a clear plastic "paddle" is lowered on top of it with the intention of compressing it to look more like a thick pancake is just not the most pleasant or ideal experience no matter how kind the technician! Which ever one was pushed, placed, lifted, and squashed, neither was very comfortable. She took the usual number of pictures, checked them, and released me to return to the sanctity of the dressing room where I dressed in record time and made my escape until next year...or so I thought!