Mammogram Round 2

So a week ago I had a second appointment with my local radiology lab.  My initial mammogram came back with results that needed further investigation, so I was scheduled for an ultra-sound.  The whole process can be very unnerving to say the least, and the technician - although very nice - made me feel very nervous by telling me that she had to show the radiologist the results, as he may want to come and perform the ultra-sound again himself.  My initial thought was why on earth isn't the radiologist doing the initial examination himself, instead of this technician.

After the ultra-sound the technician trotted away with the results of my scan and left me sitting in my paper gown for what felt like an eternity.  When she came back she said that he wanted to see another mammogram.  A few minutes later I am back sitting in the change room, waiting to be called by another technician, for another mammogram.  I was starting to feel a little panicked.  I sat in my pale blue paper gown texting Mr. C., and bless him, he was ready to drop everything at work and come to the lab if I needed him.

The second mammogram was only required on one breast, using a different plate that would compress the tissue even further.  The technician warned me that it would hurt, and she wasn't lying.  That moment when they take the picture the instruction is to hold your breath.  With the excruciating pain I was experiencing my breath was taken away, so "holding my breath" was easy peasy - I couldn't breathe even if I wanted to.

Back in the change room, still in my now creased and bedraggled looking baby blue paper gown, I was instructed to wait whilst this new technician took the results back to the radiologist to review.  This radiologist was quickly becoming the "Almighty Oz" in my mind.  Hidden away somewhere in the deep reaches of the radiology lab, no doubt behind a curtain.  I never did meet him thankfully.  After another wait and  numerous text messages with Mr. C. technician #2 popped her head into the change room and informed me that I could get dressed.  The results would be with my doctor Monday morning.

It was the longest weekend ever.  Monday dawned and I must've checked my phone every few minutes, jumping out of my skin at every beep, notification or vibration.  I distracted myself with a visit with a girlfriend for coffee, donuts and a much needed chat.  The relief of "no news is good news".  No phone call.  Ditto for Tuesday (which I had mentally prepared myself for, just in case...). So here we are a week later, still no phone call, and I'm finally allowing myself to breathe again.