Squeaker III

The squeaker showed up again on Tuesday.  A follow-up mammogram and sonogram actually allowed for two more times for fun.  With my appointment being in the afternoon, the technicians had already seen their share of women with requirements for a second look and immediate assessment.  It was my job to help make their day a bit brighter.

Not mine but similar

The follow-up mammogram was for my left breast.  (Why was the word breast hard for me to type?  Old hangups, I guess.)  There were different size plates used.  The first was about 10 inches wide.  The pressure on that one was not so bad.  The second plate was about 3 inches wide and more focused.  In addition, the pressure was more like the mammograms from the 1980s.  Ouch.  And one must hold one's breath so there is no breathing through the discomfort.  It was definitely squeaker time!  The young tech started looking around and searching her pockets.  I fessed up and of course, she cracked up with me.  She thought she had managed to bring one of her toddler's toys with her to work.  She gladly took the squeaker to 'have some fun at work'.

From the mammogram room, I went to a waiting area with other women in bathrobes and/or hospital gowns.  I could see the worry on some of the faces.  We were all waiting for the next phase to determine which door our lives would take.  Would we be released after the sonogram with good results?  Would we be given back to our doctor to schedule the next step of biopsy and/or surgery?  I did not use my remaining squeaker but shared what I had done.  We all had a giggle.  Then a twenty-something lady came into the room.  Her countenance was filled with fear and she needed encouragement.  She noted how painful the procedure was.  All us old pros started talking about our past experiences.  We did our best to give her support.  Because cancer is scary.  All the while I kept hearing the occasional squeak out in the hall followed by laughter.

The waiting room ladies were called one by one to have the next exam.  New women came into the small room.  At times there was not enough seating.  My name was called.  Just to confuse things there were two of us "Janice" in that small room.  It was not my turn, wrong last name.  A couple more of the ladies left.  Then, finally, my turn.  I wished the twenty-something good luck with the results.  I had even shared about the ex-DIL having the same situation just 2 or 3 weeks before that 1996 wedding day.  All had been fine after the biopsy showed the tumor was benign.

Let me give a bit more, probably unwanted information.  Breasts are categorized.   It is not cup size but density that makes the difference when screening for tumors.  Read here for more information.  My breasts are considered dense, level 3 the techs tell me.  That makes me 4 x more likely to develop breast cancer.  Yeah!  In addition to the silly, no longer useful things that have caused distortions in my bone structure from bra straps, now this.  Yearly mammos it will be for me.

So much for that.  On to the sonogram room.  On my back with half of me exposed.  In addition, my dense but saggy boobs were halfway into my armpit.  I could apologize for that unflattering image but more important things were at stake at that time.  A squirt of the warm lubricant and the sonogram process began.  The tech was having difficulty locating whatever it was on the mammogram.  I did the squeaky thing and she laughed.  Said she had heard about me.  We chit-chatted while we both looked at the monitor.  Still nothing.

I said it had probably slid into my armpit.  She answered that there was very little probability that anything had spread into my armpit.  I smiled noting I was not talking about a cancerous tumor, just my orange-in-a-tube sock boob.  Most of it was in my armpit.  Well, that cracked her up.  "Most people come to this room either planning their funeral, or crying, or dreading telling family members.  No one comes in cracking jokes."  I told her my family met adversity with humor.  "You are now officially my favorite patient today".

Once she had enough photos of my tube sock for a boob, she went to the specialist for a reading.  I gave her a squeaky toy.  She said the specialist was a bit grumpy this time of day.  She, also, noted that if she ever had a bad read, the specialist would be her pick for the reading.  In the time she was gone, I just did not do much.  Looked at the room, checked my phone, and prayed I would not have to tell my sisters we were going through another cancer treatment as a team.  

The tech returned.  Get dressed and go home, all is good.  That was for sure!  I dressed and started walking down the hall.  At different stations, the technicians had smiles and giggles going on.  Seems that had all been having a bit of fun with the squeakers.  It was a glorious way to end the visit.

Stay safe out there.  Don't forget your mammograms, colon checks, and other things that could avoid cancer.

Love,

Janice