​If you read the recent post about my abnormal mammogram, you’ll know the depths of crazy that an abnormal test like that can take a person.
 
I also discussed the fact that, as a physician, I know way too much about the process and the likelihood of Medical Things Happening. Look, if you see enough of these types of cycles, you know how the process typically goes. Testing, results. Re-testing, results. Biopsy, results. Answer, treatment plan.
 
So I fully expected to be finishing up this process with a biopsy, because 90%+ of the abnormal mammogram findings similar to mine end up going to biopsy. And often beyond the biopsy. As a result, all last weekend, my very rational, logical, calm, cool and collected brain just spun and spun.
 
It’s amazing how worry can suck the energy out of a person.
 
I got the repeat mammogram done this morning, and the tech (with whom I work) showed me the extra images and was like, “Um, yeah, the spot didn’t go away with the extra view. Let’s see what ultrasound says.” Thankfully, the ultrasound tech had an opening and got me right in for that step. That meant I would have results today, without having to wait another day. Good.
 
That afternoon at 2pm, I got the result. Normal. No biopsy needed.

​ Caveat: I might be a good doctor, but I’m not a great patient. And having knowledge about medical things doesn’t make anything easier when tests are abnormal. Maybe the opposite.
 
So here’s what happened. Last week, I got the standard mammogram, complete with uncomfortable chit-chat with the mammo tech who has chilly hands. You know the drill. Stand in an awkward position, let the tech scoot “the girls” between the plates, and hold perfectly still as the tech cranks down the vice to hold what little breast tissue I have in place. (Like I could go anywhere?) Repeat on the other side.
 
Please understand I’m not dissing mammograms. No way. Not even close. I believe strongly in mammography as an excellent way to pick up breast cancer in its earliest stages so patients receive the best treatment.
 
I just don’t appreciate being the one with the abnormal result. I’m the freakin’ doctor. Irony, much? Damn it.
 
The first result was “BIRADS 0” which means inconclusive or needs more views and an ultrasound. I’m told my breasts are “dense” which is hilarious if you consider #1) there’s not much there and #2) the damned things are drifting sideways and south – there ain’t much density to them from where I stand. But some guy in a dark room looking at my films says they’re dense and he can’t make a definite conclusion as to whether the nodule is something worrisome or not? Who am I to argue?

Please understand that my hubby hates shopping with a rabid, seething hatred the likes of which can only be imagined by mere mortals. And if you say anything about either shopping for or wearing a tie, his entire face will split down the middle, his head will rotate and the fires of hell will spew forth from his mouth.
 
So, it’s not a great idea, bringing up shopping, much less for normal, everyday clothing. But now we have a Family Trip coming up, with parents, aunts, and uncles, and it involves wearing more than camos and plaid shirts. (Yeah. He wears plaid and camo. Together. This is what I have to work with, folks. It’s not pretty.)