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Thursday, March 20, 2014

Pinky and the Appointment.

After a string of uncomfortable tests and a nervous three hour stay at the hospital today I’m fully aware of how frustrating it is to wait for results, therefore I won’t make YOU wait. I’m pleased to inform you Pinky is in the clear having been given a completely clean bill of health!


The Appointment

My sister Sam, rang me on Tuesday insisting on accompanying me even though I put up a bit of a rebellion.

“I’ll be okay,” I asserted. “You don’t want to sit around for hours bored out of your brain. I’ll take a book.”

“You won’t read a bloody book,” she replied. “You’ll sit there stewing yourself into a nervous wreck, Pinky. Besides it’s what sisters do so there’s no way I’m not coming!”

God I love my little sister.

Since the recall after my mammogram on Monday I think I’ve been pretty laid back considering my natural temperament which usually leans on the side of obsessive hysteria. 

However, this morning I was appalled to find myself tearing up in the shower, snapping violently at Scotto and unable to swallow my coffee. My day of reckoning had irrevocably arrived.

Sam’s brand new blue Mazda pulled up in the driveway and I walked out waving and smiling but... inwardly I was ready to lose the plot at any second.

“You know those women who when they find out they have cancer are really strong?” I asked Sam solemnly as I slid into the car seat.

“Yeah…” she responded.

“Well… I’m not going to be one of them.”

She burst into laughter resetting the familiar humorous tone of conversation we sisters always share.

‘Aaah,’ I thought. ‘This is why I needed her to come along and I didn’t even know it’.

As we approached the doors of the clinic I suddenly baulked.

‘I could run away…’ I thought. ‘Pretend none of this ever happened. No one can make me do it.’

But with Sam quietly urging ‘Little Chicken Sh#t’ onwards, we finally fronted up to the counter.

Between the talk with the nurse, the examination by the doctor and the second round of x-rays, Sam kept me entertained with witty chatter and silly jokes. Occasionally my mind would drift into the dark recesses of possibility and I’d gaze at her stupidly not having heard a word she’d said for the previous five minutes. 

I looked around at the other seven robed ladies sitting in the waiting room with me. I hoped we’d all be delivered good news today.

It wasn’t until my ultrasound that my mood lifted considerably.

The technician was a small, grey haired lady who beckoned me in gruffly.

I was told to lie on my side with one arm above my head and my face turned away as she squirted the cold, slimy gel all over my right breast (the rogue appendage enclosing the suspicious patch of dense tissue).

“I’ve a sore back,” I groaned as I lay down.

“Not as sore as mine I bet!” she retorted. “I could hardly move yesterday. Now lie still and don't talk.”

In front of me I could see the x-ray with the sinister, misshapen patch circled and I felt her concentrating the paddle on that particular area for the next ten minutes.

“Not much to see around here!” she suddenly grumbled.

At first I thought she was insulting my less than abundant bra size until it dawned on me that this was a good thing she was saying. A bloody good thing!

The technician spent the next quarter of an hour taking what seemed like one hundred candids of my by now quite tender boobelishus.

“All done!” she declared. Then, miraculously, she added under her breath, “It’s hard to find something that’s not there.”

I spun around in all my half-naked glory and burst out laughing. I wanted to hug her… but it may have been a bit awkward in my exposed state.

“Thank you!” I practically shrieked.

I know technicians aren’t supposed to comment on findings and technically she didn’t…

It was another hour until the doctors viewed my results and soon after the nurse gave me my ecstatically received results. I knew the news was going to be good when I saw the nurse was skipping as she led me into the consultation room. 

I’m not exaggerating; she was actually skipping.

And I’m happy to say there were seven other smiling faces in the foyer that day.

God bless Breastscreen Queensland!

Sam, I love you. I’m sorry that because you accompanied me today you were strong-armed (by the skipping nurse) into making an appointment for your very first mammogram… but them’s the breaks honey!

                     Two very bad attempts at a joyous selfie outside the clinic!

Linking up at With Some Grace for FYBF