fun with mammography

I spent 2-1/2 hours at the doctor's office today for a mammogram. It was a repeat one--I had one about a month ago, on the day when they have no doctor there to interpret results. Usually they put the results in the mail and say, fine, but this time they said, come back. When I called they said it was probably no biggie, so I didn't worry. Really.

But Mark decided to come with me for moral support anyway. I figured we'd be in and out in half an hour. He brought grading, I brought knitting.

They called me in right away. Impressively fast. I was ushered into a cubicle and told to disrobe above the waist and put on the lovely gown with the opening in the back. I was informed that I might wait there, or in the chairs right outside the cubicles. I was also informed that someone would be "right with me." This would turn out to be a lie.

I chose the cubicle. I got out my knitting and set to work.

I knit a lot! I'm back at work on the infamous clapotis. This is actually clapotis #2, for anyone who's been following this disjointed saga, as clapotis #1 had dye lot issues and I had to abandon it. Clapotis #2 is knit of a lovely soft purple-with-flecks-of-other-colors merino wool. I like it very much.

I knit a lot more! It was now over an hour since I had originally sat down in my cubicle. Finally someone called my name and I was ushered into the dark, cold, mammography room. I was pushed and pulled and (mostly) pressed down into plasticky things while the perky technician kept up a running commentary. She was quick, quick, quick. I don't think she took a breath while I was in there. No kidding.

I was then returned to my cubicle to wait some more. But! The technician returned to tell me that she had found a note--in red crayon (she repeated this several times)--to take another view. So I was ushered back into the dark cold mammography room for the other view. Quick quick quick again.

Back again. This time I decided to sit in the chairs. I got my knitting out and watched people. Mostly they seemed fine. One really attractive woman worried me--somehow she seemed to be expecting bad news. She left before too long. Two women sat down. Evidently they were sisters--one chatty, one not so much. The chatty one told me she'd been knitting for a little while, too. An eyelash scarf. We bonded over knitting. She confided in me that she had several grandchildren and, though she had always wanted daughters and had had only sons, she was now finding that she enjoyed the grandsons more than the granddaughters. This seemed to disturb her. Then she went and had her mammogram. Then her sister did. Then the chatty one was told she could go get dressed and go home. Hmm.

At this point I began to invent scenarios. Something was obviously terribly wrong. Someone would be coming to get me soon, to talk to me with a sad and serious face about my options. Mark would be called in from the waiting room. I would be scheduled for surgery next week. We would probably cancel our dinner party (see above). I would take a medical leave for the rest of the semester. This was starting to sound good. Who would finish my grading for me? I didn't much care, as long as it wasn't me. I couldn't do it, I had breast cancer! (Yes, I know this is sick. But, in my defense, I really do have a lot of work to do right now!)

Only, of course, I don't have breast cancer. Which is, of course, good news. Before long (before, for example, the non-chatty sister), I was given a piece of paper that said, good news, come back in a year, and told I could get dressed and go home.

The End.