There was a concern on the right side, again. Now we need to do some pictures at this angle, she sweetly informed me. I held onto the bar and tried to think about anything else I could at that moment. Sit right there and either I or the radiologist will be back in to discuss your results. Ten minutes later they needed additional pictures, so off with the right sleeve again. Don't get me wrong- be as thorough as you need to be. I am just not a good waiter. And again ten minutes later a third set is needed. Red and screaming at me, I looked down to apologize to my body.
We are going to have you just come across the hall for an ultrasound to be sure we are as accurate as possible with our tests today. So I wrapped my gown tightly across my chest and walked across the hall, my brown suede knee-high boots clicking my arrival. Another too-young-to-really-get-my-anxiety technician was very kind and gentle as she performed my first ultrasound. Things look fine to me, but I will have the radiologist look at what I did here. Twenty minutes pass as I stare at the acoustical tiles on the ceiling. The tiles don't even match, and the canned recessed lights look like they might fall right out and onto me as I lay there wondering what a biopsy will feel like.
The radiologist comes in for another ultrasound, and informs me that all seems well. Sometimes we see things at one angle that we can't prove with other tests. So let's have you back in six months, just to follow up.
A little misty on the way home. I hug myself.