Tuesday, May 3, 2016

that other thing ya gotta do

I'm at my appointment by 9:30.

There is very little waiting time, so less time to worry about the what if.  Every year, when I come for my annual mammogram, the fact that my life could change in an instant does not escape me. 

I don't mind the squeezing and pressure and uncomfortable awkwardness. It's the technician's silence as she looks a the screen that I don't like. It gives me too much time to wonder what she's looking at.

The lovely radiologist, Ayala Rosenbaum, comes in shortly after the process. She's all smiles. I am relieved when she says, "Everything is fine."

Next I go in for the sonogram with Juliane. I met her last year, and we got together a few times after. She is a drop-dead gorgeous blond, and as nice as she is beautiful. We catch up on life as she maneuvers the hand-held ultrasound device across my breasts.

A few minutes after Juliane leaves, Dr. Rosenbaum returns.  She's not wearing the same bright smile she had on earlier.  "I just want to take a look at something, though I'm pretty sure it's nothing," she says.

My life stops. I lie back again on the table and am totally silent as the doctor moves the ultrasound device over one spot .  "I'm going to press down a bit so let me know if this hurts." It doesn't. It's only my imagination that hurts.

But then she smiles and says, "Everything is fine."  

"Are you sure?" I ridiculously ask.  

Dr. Rosenbaum has a nice manner and kindly replies, "What possible reason would I have for not being truthful?" 

None of course.  It's not like she'd hate to ruin my day so she'll pretend the results are all good.

I leave happy. And relieved that I don't have to return for a year. Wish it were ten, like that other thing I just did.

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