I can usually turn every triumph no matter the size into a cause for a major reward, but today is a little different. This boob stuff scared the piss out of me. I held myself together surprisingly well and I'm actually very proud of myself for not falling completely apart or tearing the dreadlocks out of the head of the retarded fucking clerk at Old Navy who could not multitask beyond blinking and scanning bar codes let alone doing my exchange and talking on the phone causing her to nearly charge me thrice over for a single shirt. That's how much of a trooper I was.
Oh, I totally forgot to tell you the details. After many phone calls and 2 episodes of bursting into tears later, I finally got a call from my gyno doc herself last night where she explained to me with an almost-believable amount of fake sincerity for my sanity and well-being that yes indeedy the second set of magnified images showed nothing unusual. Nada. Zip. Zilch to be worried about. And the "useless" ultrasound while ineffective in detecting cancer does pick up cysts and shit but even if it was a waste of time for my type of big ol' girls the mammo was our ticket out of Insanityville.
Why the fuck the first 5 people I talked to earlier in the day couldn't explain any of that I don't know. I'm not your average patient and I want answers and explanations and I understand stuff so don't patronize me, alright? Just answer the question, Claire, ANSWER THE GOD DAMN QUESTION!! Ahem.
And here's a little message to the asshole woman wearing the Jehovah Lives t-shirt who was also called back for another mammogram the day I was there;
Don't give the technicians shit because you had to drive all the way from whatever shack you came from for another test. Don't pester and argue about how it's too far and you always have to come back for more pictures as if some pimple-faced kid at the photomat got a booger on your kids birthday photos instead of a mammogram with questionable results.
These people are trying to make sure you don't have fucking cancer eating away at your insides you ignorant bitch. I would drive A THOUSAND FUCKING MILES on the back of a Harley with no muffler, worn-out seats and a raging case of diarrhea for peace of mind that a second set of pictures and a closer look can give. This is not being done to inconvenience you or tear you away from the bingo hall. It's for your life so whip your tit out, shut the fuck up and say THANK YOU.
My lerd but was this a stressful week. I don't think I slept more than 3 hours every night, but bottom line, this too has past. And now we will celebrate with sushi for me, fully cooked beef for the fraidy cat non-raw fish eater, and booze. We also have a party to go to tomorrow night and I for one am glad of the story I won't be telling. I can stick with that one time I was thrown out of a Tijuana strip club instead. (That really happened, as if there where any doubt.)
I lift my glass to everyone who sent vibes and showed me support. That shit works, don't ever doubt it. Knowing that my baby, my friends, and virtual friend alike had and will always have my back makes me breathe easier. And for that, I thank you with a toast.
Here's to my tit who's been A OK'd
Much thanks to all of you who prayed
May your weekend be full of good friends & food
And If you think of it raise a glass for my boob.
Cheers!
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