Breast Torture

Not my favorite day. Not a disaster. I worked well, but I had to get the mammogram done that wasn’t done, when I had it scheduled on Tuesday, due to over-scheduling myself for teaching the ACLS class, going over all the latest, greatest of same on my computer (which only downloads at 56K since I have dial-up in the back-end of GA and every one of the fourteen or so filmettes I’m required to review before I can certify that I am still certified in the art of trying to put humpty-dumpty back on the wall, required at least 30 min apiece) the cleanup behind and of the two new pooping puppies, the book club meeting at my house, etc. So, I thought, I’ll just pop over and get that Mammogram done on as an outpatient while I work – go over on lunchbreak. Of course not, it can’t be that easy. No, since the tissue in my breasts is very dense (as, I suspect, am I for allowing a PA to make me go through this) the mammograms have always been a little problematic. Unlike most people I don’t have very tender breasts, so the procedure itself is not difficult, just the fact that they can’t see anything. So, then they have to do an ultrasound, which doesn’t tell them what they need to know except that we (both the ultrasonographer and I) both feel several discrete lumps, none of them indurated or dimpled or…whatever. So then we need more views of the mammogram, Finally, Dr. H, himself, (the mammogram guru) comes over and manipulates my suspect right breast (which tries to look as innocent as possible and claim all the lumps are due to my Dom loving breast torture) and can’t seem to find anything definitive and tell me I really, should, go over to their new state-o-the-art digital mammography unit out in the ancillary hospital(where I was scheduled, originally, on Tuesday) to get a better mammogram. So, after having three people mash, manipulate, peruse, and handle my breasts (especially the poor right one) while I philosophically look elsewhere doing my best not to think too much on cancer, we all agree that I will schedule myself and do all this again next week, the sword of Damocles hanging over my head while I work all weekend and still can’t feel the definitive “lump.” I have lots of ‘em. Damn it.