The Women's Torture Chamber
My day began Tuesday with a trip to the ultra sound monster. The phlebitis was confirmed, however, as the tech reported to her support person "she couldn't tolerate" checking the deep veins under the surface veins in the usual way. Not tolerate was un understatement. I wanted to strike her - and strike her HARD when she even looked at the enflamed vein.
In the end she said she thought I'd be an excellent candidate for vericose vein surgery, and I agreed with her.
Yesterday I spent most of the day in bed (Bill didn't complain, I didn't bug him to get him going) with a warm wash cloth on my leg wrapped in saran wrap with the heating pad on the leg. Let me tell you, that's the cure - moist heat. It isn't gone, but it sure gave me relief.
Tuesday evening I walked into a beautiful office, obviously decorated with us women in mind. The French doors were welcoming and not the usual heavy doors we deal with in office buildings. Above the door, in pink letters "The Women's Breast Center". You may have already guessed it - it was time for the mammogram.
I filled out the necessary paperwork and looked over at a placard on the table. "New digital mammograms are here!" That sounded exciting. I mentioned it to the young lady at the desk (it was late and I was the only "guest" in the waiting room) "oh, at last, they won't have to use the vice". She smiled coyly and replayed, "well, you won't have to hold your breath any longer". As I remember, I did that in place of screaming - but oh well, I'd see for myself, wouldn't I? (Poor choice of words.)
I was called to the next step - nothing is ever said, but since this lady verifies ones address and insurance information I think I know what she wants - to ensure they will be paid for my "experience". These ladies so far are so laid back and welcoming. I hope you all enjoy the same experience!
I just got back to my seat with the clipboard, armed and ready to tell my family's life breast history when the WOMAN came to the door. Sweetly, Ann Rogers? came from her mouth. She appeared to be a nice lady. Everybody here is dressed in pink in some way or another. Soothing. Don't we all love pink? She assured me that I could come with her and "we'll just complete this together". She escorted me into a changing room. 'Any talc or deordorant?' Are you kidding? I know the dangers of those two substances.....I'm not going to put myself through this again - I'll just not get close to anybody. We finished the paperwork. Her eyebrows only raised slightly when I told her my dad's mother and two sisters had all had breast cancer. I told her that's why I felt guilty because it had been a year and 11 months since I'd used their "services". She directed me to change into the pink smock, closing it in the front. I could lock the door I came in to and we'd go into her room from the door on the other side of the dressing room.
It is never as bad as I imagine it will be. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't want to do it monthly as a night out with the girls....ok, maybe it was a pun....but it wasn't TERRIBLE. And no, you don't have to hold your breath anymore. Guess what she explained to me.....She explained to me what the black area is. Can anybody guess? She explained that as we get older the breast tissue that keeps us "perky" is replaced with fat. That doesn't keep us as perky, and in fact, she said that's why we see old ladies with breasts that hang. Well, I remember moaning to my doctor when I was 40 that my breasts were suddenly turning into my mom's - and I'd NEVER expected that. My doctor looked at me and ever so gently said, "that's why underwire bras were invented."
It's over and I dind't get any calls yeterday. To be honest, they looked fine to me. Well, they looked ok to me. I won't say "fine". They looked like two black blobs of unequal size (yes, I guess that's normal too) with a few little lines and alot of black.
Now you know it all! Achandra - just what will you do with me????
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