One Down, Six to Go....

Today was my fifth radiation treatment, bringing to close the first week of my seven week treatment plan. I have the routine down pretty well now.  It's been so far, so good with the treatments.  My skin shows no sign of damage yet.  I have some weird discomfort when I reach with my left arm, but that could still be nerve trauma from the surgery.  Dr C told me it could be up to six months until that goes away completely.  At any rate, it is more "bothersome" than painful.

This week, I had meetings with the radiation oncologist, the oncologist's nurse, and someone called a "cancer guide" who gave me information on the holistic services offered at the cancer center.  Some of the programs sound like fun: a monthly meeting of patients and surviors, healing touch therapy, and even acupuncture.  The problem is, many of the programs are offered during my working hours, and my office isn't close to the clinic.  If I want to attend these offerings, I will need to use vacation time to do it.  I took the pamphlets, but I'll make my mind up later.

Yesterday, my wonderful friend Johnae got the dreaded "call back" on her mammogram.  Our local clinic sends a letter if all is well.  The call means there is "something" on your films.  Not every "something" turns out to be cancer, and the clinic asked Johnae to come in next week for a follow up.  With me, they wanted my butt (well, they actually wanted my boob, but I digress) in there at 8 o'clock the next morning.  So to me, telling Johnae to come next week is a good sign.  She didn't want to wait (of course!) and asked to be put on a cancellation list.  They must have heard her anxiety because they told her to come tomorrow, early, and prepare to wait.  They will work her in at some point during the day. Johnae credits my cancer with prodding her into her mammogram.  She was two years out from her last one.  Hopefully, she'll have an all clear by lunchtime tomorrow.  If not, well, we can travel this journey together.  If you're a praying sort, please think of Johnae.  Otherwise, we appreciate the powers rabbits feet, four leaf clovers, horse shoes, and crossed fingers, too.

Here's What Happened.....Part 3

The radiology message requested that I call by four p.m. It was now 2:30. I decided I could still check my email and have plenty of time to call. But apparently the radiologist was on a mission, too. Ten minutes later they called back, asking me to come in at 8 the next morning. Since I'm a dumbass, I explained that I work nights and asked if there were any afternoon appointments available. I agreed to come in at 1:30 the next day.

I can't say that I was all that worried ~ see? Dumbass! To be fair, I read everything, including dozens of accounts of mammograms gone bad. I know that lots of suspicious films turn out to be no big deal - cysts, bad film, faulty equipment, even just uncertainty by the radiologist who reads the films. I told Walker that I had to go for a recheck and he offered to drive me. I think Walker was more concerned than I was.

I guess my first red flag was that my follow up was scheduled at the hospital, not my usual clinic. The next red flag came at my appointment, when the staff was practically waiting at the door for me. Though I was right on time, they told me the radiologist was asking for me, and wanted to know as soon as I got there.

Mammogram number two was not the digital variety, and involved different views than the first time. Still not a bad experience. The tech literally ran out of the room with the films and I was escorted down the hall for an ultrasound. Red flag number three. At this point, everyone was still referring to the "density" on my films. That was about to change.

Here's What Happened.....Part 2

The clinic I go to uses digital mammography. Can I tell you ~ I do not know what the big deal is. I went to my scheduled appointment, I presented my girls to the technician, they were smushed into the machine for about three seconds, I got dressed and left. No fuss, no muss, no whining. Don't get me wrong ~ it wasn't exactly fun, but it was literally about twelve minutes out of my life. While I wouldn't want to have a mammo every day, I decided I could certainly do this once a year. I felt like a total weinie for avoiding it for so long. The tech told me that a radiologist would read the films and send me a letter if everything was fine. If not, they would call. Walker met me for dinner at a nearby Chinese buffet and then I went to work.

A couple days later, I was outside with the dogs when the mail chick came by. I decided that I would scan my "all clear" letter and blog about the experience, so any other weinies who were avoiding getting scanned might think twice. How awesome would it be to help someone get a scan that might just save their life?

But there was no letter in the mail. Hmmm. Usually the clinic is lightning quick on testing procedures. Well, I decided, the letter will come tomorrow. If there was something wrong I'd have gotten a call by now. I called the dogs and we went back into the house. At the computer, I started logging into my email when I saw the message icon on my cell phone. Playing the message, my heart sank. The radiologist wanted me to call. As soon as possible. Ruh-roh.

Here's What Happened.....Part 1

It started innocently enough. I had an annual checkup with my family medicine doctor, which went really well. My blood work was fine, I've lost a little weight, I feel fantastic these days. I was just about to make a clean getaway when she stopped me and asked how long it had been since my last mammogram.

Ruh-roh. I'd never had a mammogram. And I didn't want to get one now. But I have tremendous respect for my doctor, and she was on a mission. So I let her talk me into it. Reluctantly, I went out to the appointment desk and requested a mammogram. The whole time I'm thinking, I can cancel this. I really don't need to do this....but then the appointment chick tells me, they can take you right now. Ruh-roh.

So she leads me back to Radiology and I sit. I take the copy of "Eat, Pray, Love" out of my bag and read the passage where the Indonesian medicine man does a ceremony to remove the curse of a baby born on Thursdays. Seems babies born on Thursdays have nothing but bad luck. It occurs to me that I was born on a Thursday, and I get a little irritated at the whole passage.

The appointment chick reappears to tell me that I can't get scanned, today, after all, and we go back to the appointment desk. She hands me a card to come back the next week and I leave to meet Walker for supper before I go to work.