Diary of a SubUrban Housewife

Sigh of Relief

A HUGE thank you to each and every one of you for your kind thoughts and the international good mojo.

I think the thing that surprised me the most about today was how nervous I got, all over again. My doctor was very encouraging on Monday and by Monday night I had regrouped and felt good about my impending diagnosis and prognosis.

But about 8:00 last night I started spinning out again. Not as bad as Sunday, but my nerves were getting to me. But I pretty much hit my full psycho stride at about 1:30 this afternoon.

The fact that I'm having to go through all of this with a raging case of PMS really doesn't help matters any. So the combination of nerves and the anticipation of having my breast thoroughly squished against a cold metal plate when it's already pre-menstrually tender (and yeah, I know....TMI) sent me into a bit of a tailspin.

So I had a diagnostic mammogram and an ultrasound this afternoon.

When you fill out the initial paperwork it says that you will get a written report within four weeks. I do not have four weeks to wait so when I brought my paperwork up to the desk I asked if there was any way I could call in for my results sooner than the four weeks indicated on the paperwork. The woman at the desk assured me that the radiologist would read my results immediately and speak with me this afternoon.

They did the mammogram first. It was more uncomfortable than I thought it would be. The thing is, while it's never the most pleasant experience, it's never really that bad. But today it was particulary sucky (see above re: premenstrual tenderness and the squished factor, and add to that a big does of anxiety).

The mammographer was very encouraging. When she went to put a little sticker on the spot where the lump is she said, "it moves." Yes, it does. This is a good thing. Cancer does not move. Cysts do.

Three squishes later she sent me down the hall to the ultrasound room.

The tech squirted me with ice cold ultrasound gel and put the ultrasound wand on my breast. She moved the wand around. She took still photos. She marked and measured. Then she nodded her head and said softly, "cysts", and I think I breathed for the first time since I'd arrived at the office.

I was told I could get dressed and that the radiologist would see me in a moment. She confirmed what the ultrasonographer said. I apparently have fibrocystic breasts.

So I'm gonna live. Hopefully a nice, long time.

Posted by beth at March 10, 2005 08:50 PM