Fondled (by a machine!)

I have been officially inducted into the world of mammograms and all the fun worry that accompanies them. Oh, joy.

I had my yearly physical last Friday, and my doctor found a lump in my left breast. She quickly assuredme it was probably nothing - most likely, in fact, just a result of all of the caffiene I've had lately - but said I'd need a mammogram and ultrasound to check it out.

Oh yeah, and no caffiene for a week until I go back to see her again this Friday for test results and follow up exam to see if the lump is still there.

The mammogram wasn't so bad, aside from having another woman fondling me in places I don't particularly want just anyone to fondle. The squishing wasn't horrible, just weird.

And from what I gathered from the tech who took the pictures, there might not have been anything found with the mammogram (I have yet to get official results, so that could be wrong, but she seemed to be srtuggling and squinting to find anything at the time).

The ultrasound, however, found one black blob that I know about for sure, because by that time I'd gotten bored staring at the ceiling and so craned my neck aroudn to watch the screen. This dark spot (a lump, I'm guessing) was located, however, in a different place than where my doctor had found the original lump, which is ... disconcerting ... I belive this was the second dark lump/spot found with the ultrasound, however, because while I was still staring at the ceiling before that, the ultrasound tech had paused and clicked and tapped on the keyboard in much the same manner near where the original lump had been found.

So I might have two lumps. Maybe more? I tried not to pay attention until I got bored and had to see what was going on on the screen. I mean, it's not like I was thrilled to be there, ya know?

Sigh.

I have told myself repeatedly, "I'm not going to freak out. It's probably going to be just fine. This kind of thing runs in the family. Lumps (cysts) are apparently common for my age anyway. I'm NOT going to freak out."

And so far I haven't. But I have been pretty put-out and a bit depressed, and no matter how much I rationalize and read soothing things about breakthroughs, I've been worried, too. Not full-on, wringin my hands worried, but just that general unease taht tickles the back of yoru brain constantly, just beyond reach but there enough to taunt you and make you shiver a bit and turn away.

I don't feel particularly peppy right now. I'm not scared at this point - at this point there's nothing to actually be scared of - but I'm leery and dark and sluggish and unable to really concentrate on anything. Which is bad because I had an internal deadline for my group project today, which I will be missing to turn in my part tomorrow. It's not a bad thing, per se; the group can easily wait one day to review and comment on my presentation, which is the actual "group" part of the project, with plenty of time to spare even if I turned it in Friday instead of tomorrow, but I still feel bad about missing the deadline. They want to finish this damn project early and I don't blame them - I do, too.

And that just makes me feel a bit cruddier. I haven't been very into this class this term, focusing too much on work instead. I'm lucky this has been so far a fairly easy class, or at least a subject that comes naturally to me. I've gotten all A's except for one B+ (which would have been an A but I turned the assignment in one day late and so suffered a 5% mark down), and my intructor leaves comments as to how exceptional my work is. Makes me feel good, but I keep feeling like I don't deserve the grades, because I'm putting everything off till the last minute.

I need some good news on Friday. Or at least promising news, even if I have to get cut up for further inspection. I can handle being cut up. I can handle a not-so-great diagnosis, even, because it's not the end of the world these days like it used to be.

It's the waiting that's wearing on me. It's the not knowing, one way or another, what's going to happen next.

Sigh.

No comments: