Much Ado About Nothing

I sashayed into PMH solo, this morning.  The BFF was otherwise engaged, attending a routine colonoscopy (hers), across town.  For once, I wanted to face The Dutchman alone, if the news was to be bad.  I needn't have worried.

The man of the hour breezed in, dark-suited and sporting a grizzled goatee.  (I think it ages him, but, oddly, he didn't ask about my grooming preferences where surgeons are concerned.)  All business, he cut right to the chase.  October mammogram:  clear.  November MRI:  something to further investigate.  December ultrasound:  clear.  And, after a brief paper chase, December mammogram:  clear.  Amazing.  Fantabulous!  And weirdly anticlimactic.

I had so prepared myself for a repeat of the news from December four years ago (has it really been four years?), and was so sure I knew how today's appointment would play out, that I felt a little off balance to have nothing to worry about, all of a sudden.  But, I did have the presence of mind to ask my backup question.

Because decisions about surgery are mine now, I figured it was time to talk about rebalancing.  I'm tired of lingerie that doesn't fit, straps that won't stay where they're put, and clothes that don't hang properly.  So I put it to The Dutchman.  "No problem," says he.  "I'll refer you to Plastics."  I felt for a moment like Benjamin Braddock, but it passed.

The usual quick feel, confirmation that I'll be back for another mammogram in twelve months (no MRI, next time!), and I was on my way.  Best Christmas present ever.  Happy is an understatement.