OK..on to act II...The Breast Care Center is an aesthetically lovely office with Victorian reproduction furniture and piped in classical music. They quickly admit you to the back room that is friendly, but less inviting. Eight other women, ranging in age from late 30's to 70's sit around in their lovely terrycloth robes calmly reading magazines and sipping tea. One woman, in her late forties or so sits alone...no magazine..no tea...just clutching her purse and staring at the floor. I can smell the fear...I can hear her thoughts...praying...bargaining...begging.....I wonder if that will be me?
On to the BOOB-O-Matic....What a viscious machine...and because this one was to clear up concerns from the first one, they compress it even more. While holding my breath and trying not to think about the pain, I decided that it was more painful than taking a softball to the boob, but, thankfully...shorter in duration.
Then came the ultrasound. Blue goo coats my chest, and a little screen captures video images of whats inside....Yes..there is something in there...could be a lymph node or a fatty tumor....OK..go sit back in the waiting room.
Just as you think its over, a faceless radiologist decides that he needs "one more film"...so back to the Boob-O-Matic again....SQUASH...CRUSH....SMOOSH....OK..now go home and we'll call you in a few days...Thats the sucky part....waiting. Patience is a virtue....Bullshit. ...Total utter BULLSHIT.