Tired of the dance.

It was with great trepidation that I headed West to Loyola yesterday for my mammogram. I don't know why, but this one seemed to bother me. It wasn't that I really thought they would find something, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that I really just didn't want to go.

When I arrived late, I spent very little time waiting before they called me in for my mammogram. I have to tell you, it was less painful and difficult when I had huge tits to smash. Now that I have small ones, it seems they are hell bent on pulling them off my chest to clutch them in the vice grip of death. The huge scar on the right side, from the port being ripped out, hurts like hell when they pull and stretch and squeeze. They went ahead and did both sides because I still had the fluid pocket in the right breast.

For all of my underlying bad vibe feelings, I was not prepared for the afternoon from hell. Yet again, it started with the tech coming back to inform me the doctor wanted more views and different shots to examine "spots" (trust me, their word, not mine) that the radiologist had seen on the first series. The took a new set of completely different angle shots and these hurt like an SOB. I was very relieved when she informed me that I was finished and could wait again. It was now 3:30 (my original appointment having been for 1:20) and any hopes of meeting Amy at the VA to discuss something she wanted me to read for her, were dashed.

After what felt like an eternity, I was told that I would have to have an ultrasound of the right breast because the doctor was concerned with the lump. It was like deja vu all over again! Fortunately, Amy had decided to come over and meet me at Loyola and I took great comfort in knowing she was in the waiting room for me. I just lay on the table with a small sense of dread and a clear knowledge that I was not up to another long drawn battle.

Fortunately, everything is fine. The lump is getting smaller, and while it is taking longer then hoped to dissipate, they do think it will eventually go away. I will live another day to fight the fight. I just hate this particular dance.

In the beginning........

For those who have not heard this tale, like Bilbo, I will take you back to where it all began, in the Shire. Well, actually, Carbondale, Illinois, which might as well be the middle of nowhere. The year was 1996 and I was a second year law student. Sometime in September of that year, I was called in to the VA hospital in Marion, IL for my yearly routine physical. During this physical, the nurse practitioner found lumps. The lumps were confirmed by the nurse and by the physician. I was then informed that at age 34, I was being referred for a mammogram. Almost a month and a half later, I was finally seen for a mammogram. The very grim looking person who took the x-rays refused to indicate whether they were good, bad or ugly, and told me I had to discuss the results with my doctor. At this time in my life, I was living in almost isolation in DeSoto, IL, population of 1600 and attending law school full-time. Cliff, we all remember Cliff, was stationed in Norfolk and was then in the middle of a 6 month Med. cruise.

My boys were about 4 and 6 and my entire life was flashing before my eyes. I felt isolated, alone and terrified of what would become of my boys. Almost a month later, I was told the results indicated that what I had was fibro cystic disease of the breasts (read lumpy boobs). I was told to take 400 IU of vitamin E every day and the lumps were decrease. They did in deed, but I was now left with the knowledge with lumpy boobs.

Did I mention that one of my classes that semester was Medical Malpractice? I sat down mid December to take my Med. Mal. final. I opened the exam book and started reading. "A woman goes in for her annual physical and they discover lumps. The doctors them perform a lymphectomy and remove the wrong lymph nodes. The pharmacy overdoses her on her chemotherapy. Does she have a cause of action and against whom?" It took me 20 minutes in the bathroom to compose myself enough to take the exam. Needless to say, I scored one of the highest grades in that class.