Kelly 1, Mammob*tch 0

Anyway, feeling quite good about what had transpired in that office, I went about my business over that weekend and put my looming appointment to the back of my head. Tuesday morning (after the Canada Day long weekend) I sat in the waiting room facing the same 2 receptionists. I hope I had a smug look on my face and that she felt a little uncomfortable at having to sit there with me facing her. I got called in and went through the mammogram process. Now, it’s not as bad as people make it out to be, but coming back to my point of having small boobs, maybe it’s different when you got DDs being squished, but I was okay. It was actually comical to go through as you’ve got to move in these awkward stances so they can get the angles they need, and there are armrests in weird spots that you only figure out the purpose for as the technician placed my body parts in various positions and then I’d find out that I’m meant to grab these rests for my comfort as I stand still for the technician, who goes out of the room and then comes in once the picture has been taken to rearrange me yet again.

I remember thinking after that visit that something was up. I doubt the technician would’ve viewed the xrays when she left the room (they’re not instantaneous images are they?), but I could swear her mood did change after the first one or two xrays. She got very chatty with me and was watching me –more like studying me- when she didn’t know I could see her doing so. My peripheral is out of this world. I’ll almost always see you first and depending on whether I am in the mood to talk is whether or not a conversation ensues. I've even heard my name being called but didn't bother to look around, so brutal, I know. Let me now apologize to any of you who have passed me and seen me and thought “she didn’t see me,” ahhhhh, yah, I did and for whatever the reason was at the time, I didn’t feel like you seeing that I saw you or even more brutal admittedly, I didn't care. There’s nothing worse than that conversation that happens when you run into someone you’re not in close contact with but you do know. It’s always the same shit and I hate it hate it hate it, so I’d rather you think me a bitch than actually have to go through with the “yes, yes, I work in Mississauga now, uh huh, just bought a house, no I haven’t seen them since high school, nope, not married, sure I’d love to get together with you guys, lemme give ya my number…” Screwwww that nonsense.
Anyway, she asked me “How are you doing with all this” and I staring straight ahead but feeling her eyes on me told her I wasn’t worried and this wasn’t even real to me and I wouldn’t make it that way until I had to. When I was all done with her, I had to wait in those little rooms that are private for you to change in & there’s a curtain and you have a bench to sit on and wait your turn. The mammogram technician, at that point, made me think something was up. She was standing there with me, with her hands together in front of her, making sure I was okay and kinda looking at me weird. Do they normally wait with you or just call the next patient? Was it because I was young (I love saying that!) and I maybe reminded her of her daughter or niece, or did she already know something was up? Am I just imagining that I felt something at that moment? If my diagnosis was different, I probably wouldn’t give any of these hypotheses another thought, would I?
The ultrasound was an entirely different experience. This technician was all business. As I was lying on her table, I had a view of what she was seeing. I asked if what was on the screen –a big black spot- was what I was feeling in my breast, and she said it looked like it. I jovially asked if it looked alright, and she told me she couldn’t talk to me about that. She didn’t want to be rude but she couldn’t comment on any of that. I started to well up which I’m sure was because I was embarrassed by her reaction (the mammogram chick had be so chatty!). Anyway, I choked back tears and tried very hard to just get through the rest of it. She didn’t let on that she knew I was upset. Doesn’t mean she didn’t know I was, but just that she didn’t comment on it and I was thankful of that at least. It wasn’t her fault and she wasn’t at all rude about it, just matter of fact and that’s always acceptable to me, regardless of the reaction I give.
The very next day came the call from my doctor. She left me a message and stated that she wanted to see me that day, if she had no appointments available just tell her receptionist she requested I come in and to make space for me. I left work then and went to her. I was only in the habitually overcrowded waiting room a few minutes before she called me in. “It’s complicated.” Door closes. “There seems to be an infection, as expected, however under the infection they've found a lump.” Gulp. “I’m going to have you see an oncologist surgeon , and he’s very good. He does all my boobs.” She’s so funny and totally doesn’t mean to be. At the time I had no idea what an Oncologist even was, and I still wasn’t worried because everyone up to that point in the medical field did not seem to think I had anything serious to worry about; this was a precaution and another step in figuring out what was there. A few days later came my appointment with the oncologist, but I had to go and get the films and ultrasound results from that mammogram office first.