Saturday, August 2, 2014

There's a bad biopsy on the rise

My biopsy starts at Doctors Hospital Breast Center with a pissy-demeanored mammogram woman. 

First, she chastises us for arriving at the time we were TOLD to arrive. I tell her it was their office which gave the instruction. She wants to argue office politics, but stops in her tracks when I lean in close and say, "You know what?  I am not happy about being here either."  Maybe she can sense the lack of give a shits I have just acquired, or maybe it's my twitchy fist. Either way, she becomes nice mammogram woman.

She tells me after the super duper mammo that she has done this for 25 years and it is likely a cyst! My exuberance won't last long. The ultrasound woman is chipper and skilled. After the radiologist reviews her preliminary scan however, chipper turns to all business. There are grim faces and talk of "masses".  I stop couting after they get up to 7. Chipper warmly holds my hand and says it's good I am there and they will get me a diagnosis. My "problems" won't go away on their own.  All the use of plurals freaks me out. If not for the xanax and the fact I am already prone, it's sure I would fall down. I really hate pissy mammogram woman.

The biopsy reminds me of core drilling, because it is. The radiologist keeps priming the needle gun and it sounds just like a nail gun. He notices my terror and calms me down, says I will be numb, not to worry. I hate him too.

All the while, during the scans and prep, the radio (an old thing with enormous hemostats for an antenna), has been playing zippy tunes. I only notice it now as they numb me, which hurts like hell. Nothing feels quite like a long needle in your breast and armpit, and the pop music happily drones on.

I see the bad moon arising
I see trouble on the way
I see earthquakes and lightnin'
I see bad times today
I hear hurricanes ablowing
I know the end is coming soon
I fear rivers over flowing
I hear the voice of rage and ruin
Hope you got your things together
Hope you are quite prepared to die
Looks like we're in for nasty weather
One eye is taken for an eye

What....the....fuck!   

We wrap it up with Cindy Lauper and post-biopsy care instructions.  

Dear Doctors Hospital Breast Care Center:  please shitcan the radio with the 24" hemostats antenna. And pissy mammogram woman.