Friday, October 21, 2011
Silence is Golden
It's 5PM on Friday, and I haven't heard boo from The Dutchman. Guess that means I'm good to go. One and three-quarter healthy tatas and no one to visit 'til April. Great way to end a week.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Half the News That's Fit to Print
OMG. Still so hot. Will I ever get tired of seeing him?
I was flying solo for my fall date with The Dutchman, this morning. He never stands me up, but he always keeps me waiting; today was no exception.
Given our last conversation, six months ago, I wasn't sure what I'd hear, this trip. We had mammogram and MRI results to discuss, and the prospect of another biopsy hung in the balance.
The mammogram was clear: great news. The MRI report wasn't yet back: shit, bugger, damn. That's the one that counts, this time. If the questionable cells from April haven't resolved, I'll face the needle -- and perhaps another journey down surgery highway. There's nothing for it now but to wait. And at that, it's the negative option; The Dutchman won't call, if the results show negative.
I'm taking the view that no news is good news, but it can be hard to figure out when to stop waiting for the phone to ring. I'll give it 'til the end of next week. If he hasn't called by Friday, I'll assume I'm the only one thinking about my breasts. Now, will that be good news, or bad?
I was flying solo for my fall date with The Dutchman, this morning. He never stands me up, but he always keeps me waiting; today was no exception.
Given our last conversation, six months ago, I wasn't sure what I'd hear, this trip. We had mammogram and MRI results to discuss, and the prospect of another biopsy hung in the balance.
The mammogram was clear: great news. The MRI report wasn't yet back: shit, bugger, damn. That's the one that counts, this time. If the questionable cells from April haven't resolved, I'll face the needle -- and perhaps another journey down surgery highway. There's nothing for it now but to wait. And at that, it's the negative option; The Dutchman won't call, if the results show negative.
I'm taking the view that no news is good news, but it can be hard to figure out when to stop waiting for the phone to ring. I'll give it 'til the end of next week. If he hasn't called by Friday, I'll assume I'm the only one thinking about my breasts. Now, will that be good news, or bad?
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Much-Repeated-Imaging
I'd love to say that MRIs are old hat, by now. True, I know what to expect (no metal, IV for the dye injection, 25 minutes of weird noises inside the big tube), but the calming effect of having information doesn't trump the anxiety of even mild claustrophia. Atavan -- in the 2mg size -- is still my friend.
Jockette squired me to tonight's appointment. All cancer-related procedures seem to involve significant time in a waiting room, so we got caught up on industry gossip, office drama, and personal tall tales, 'til the technician spirited me away.
It's hard to believe that lying face down on a padded cage, a needle in my arm, headphones on, naked from the waist up, has become routine, but I guess you can get used to anything, if you do it regularly. The one thing that never becomes easy -- and that Atavan can't help me with -- is waiting for results. Let's hope they hit the Dutchman's desk before our date, next week.
Jockette squired me to tonight's appointment. All cancer-related procedures seem to involve significant time in a waiting room, so we got caught up on industry gossip, office drama, and personal tall tales, 'til the technician spirited me away.
It's hard to believe that lying face down on a padded cage, a needle in my arm, headphones on, naked from the waist up, has become routine, but I guess you can get used to anything, if you do it regularly. The one thing that never becomes easy -- and that Atavan can't help me with -- is waiting for results. Let's hope they hit the Dutchman's desk before our date, next week.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Brush With Fame: The Mammogram Edition
Mammograms have become routine for me. Paperwork first, strip to the waist, titwich, results in two weeks. This time, it was the prelude that proved unexpected.
I'd already handled steps one and two, and was sitting in the patients' waiting room obsessively checking my BlackBerry. Another woman entered -- diminutive, Asian, and fully clothed, unlike the three of us in our gowned glory -- and sat. There's usually a volunteer hovering with pens and clipboards and a kind smile, but she was AWOL just at that moment. So, when the newest of our number asked in a distinctive voice whether anyone had a pen she could borrow, I answered the formerly vice-regal call.
Most Canadians have to do something heroic or grand or world-changing to exchange pleasantries with dignitaries. But here I was lending a pen and a magazine to our 26th GG, and all because I kept a medical appointment. Not much heroic in that, but it'll make a great story for weeks to come.
I'd already handled steps one and two, and was sitting in the patients' waiting room obsessively checking my BlackBerry. Another woman entered -- diminutive, Asian, and fully clothed, unlike the three of us in our gowned glory -- and sat. There's usually a volunteer hovering with pens and clipboards and a kind smile, but she was AWOL just at that moment. So, when the newest of our number asked in a distinctive voice whether anyone had a pen she could borrow, I answered the formerly vice-regal call.
Most Canadians have to do something heroic or grand or world-changing to exchange pleasantries with dignitaries. But here I was lending a pen and a magazine to our 26th GG, and all because I kept a medical appointment. Not much heroic in that, but it'll make a great story for weeks to come.
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