Squished and Cleared

Thursday was mammogram day. Always a pleasure. I made certain to not put on deodorant and wear a cotton shirt for my 10:15 am appointment. It was a busy morning at work, so I was running around trying hard not to sweat.

I managed to not be stinky by the time my appointment came. The volunteer who called my name to bring me into my appointment was likely about 80 years old. When I stood up she looked surprised and asked me to verify my birthday a couple of times. She realized I was a repeat offender when I told her I hadn't put any deodorant on for the test.

I put my pink johnnie on and sat in a room full of anxious women. What I realized was I was not one of them. I was not anxious. After having all of my testing in March I felt pretty confident that this was just another box to check off. I was not looking forward to it, but I was not concerned (which is unusual for me).

They called my name, I have a new to me mammogram tech and I tell her that I have markers in both breasts. She is reading through my sheet and states "I see you didn't check of the family history or any genetic markers, how...why....just some bad luck..." and she trails off at the end of the sentence. I think my age and history has thrown her off a bit. She is not the friendliest of techs, continually telling me to move my feet and getting frustrated with where I am placing them. I really wanted to tell her "look, I have my face pressed up against a plastic shield, I have my barely size "A"s inside your vice (which at one point had 13.5 pounds of pressure to flatten them), could you just say please!". But I didn't, mostly because I can't really breath, never mind make sentences while they take pictures. Friendly or note, she got great shots on the first try; only 3 vice grips per side. The radiologist cleared me to go and I went up 4 floors to see my surgeon.

My surgeon walks in and says "Can you believe it's been 3.5 years since I did your surgery? That's crazy". That fine surgeon is an understatement. Let's keep those years piling up. I tell him that myself and my oncologist had been worried about some thickening at my scar. He does the physical exam and tells me that it is just natural surgical changes. He lets me know that if I do feel like it is getting bigger than to come back and see him and he'll biopsy the site. However, he feels like he doesn't need to see me until next year. How's that for piece of mind? I'm pretty excited.

As per usual I was sore the next day from being in the vice. One of my colleagues sent me this in honor of the day: