First Recurrence Scan
I wanted to have all of my medical appointments wrapped up before December – ha, wrapped, get it? – but I couldn't quite pull it off. Last week, I had my final radiation follow-up. My radiologist said my skin looked phenomenal for 7 weeks out, so I guess "skin nectar" is worth the hefty price tag. I also had my pre-op CT angiogram to look at the blood vessels in my abdomen. (I had to reschedule twice due to insurance preauthorization issues.) And at the same time, I had my first CT scan to check for recurrence. "No, I'm not nervous! I always tap my foot like this. I'm cool as a cucumber." Or at least I was until the nurse called to tell me that my oncologist had reviewed my scans and wanted to diagnose a few lymph nodes via ultrasound, including one in my left armpit. They made me wait a week for the ultrasound because waiting is fun. "No, I'm not stressed! What do you mean, where did all the gingerbread cookies go? How should I know?"
My ultrasound was scheduled for yesterday morning, but I drove to the wrong imaging location and had to drive all the way across town to get to the right place. I managed to hit every single red light. "No, I'm not sweating! I must've spilled my water or something." The receptionist took pity on me and squeezed me in. After the ultrasound, I had to sit in the dark little room and wait for the doctor to come in and tell me my fate. "No, I'm not panicking! I mean, last time it was devastating news that upended my life, but this time I'm sure I'll be fine." When the doctor finally came in and said, "Benign scar tissue," I got dressed in 3 seconds and literally sprinted out the door. "No, I wasn't scared! You were scared! Have some faith, people!"
With that out of the way, I can enjoy a holiday season free of medical appointments. Yay!
My ultrasound was scheduled for yesterday morning, but I drove to the wrong imaging location and had to drive all the way across town to get to the right place. I managed to hit every single red light. "No, I'm not sweating! I must've spilled my water or something." The receptionist took pity on me and squeezed me in. After the ultrasound, I had to sit in the dark little room and wait for the doctor to come in and tell me my fate. "No, I'm not panicking! I mean, last time it was devastating news that upended my life, but this time I'm sure I'll be fine." When the doctor finally came in and said, "Benign scar tissue," I got dressed in 3 seconds and literally sprinted out the door. "No, I wasn't scared! You were scared! Have some faith, people!"
With that out of the way, I can enjoy a holiday season free of medical appointments. Yay!
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