Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Thinking...
Why do you need to park six inches away from the driver's side of my truck when there's a bazillion empty spaces in the parking lot? I'm sure I was a sight to behold while climbing into the driver's seat from the passenger side of the truck in my dress and heels!
Monday, April 22, 2013
Thinking...
The five pounds I lost yesterday as a result of feeling under the weather and eating basically nothing were likely negated by giving in to a craving for Chik-fil-A for lunch today. But it was so good! I love me some Chik-fil-A!!
Sunday, April 21, 2013
And they're off!
Mom and Dad are off on another "camping" adventure in the retirement-mobile... Gettysburg. Don't know what is on their agenda for this week, other than catching up with some friends they haven't seen in awhile, but I'll bet they will finally get some use out of that fireplace this week. ;-P
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Open Letter...
Dear Radiology Office -
For future reference, it's probably not a good idea--after calling a woman back to the office or follow-up pictures because you saw something on the original films -- to take approximately one gazillion pictures of the offending breast, say you're going to go show them to doctor, and then put said women in an inner-office waiting area -- without any hint of what was or wasn't in the retake photos and for almost 30 minutes -- where the reading material consists of nothing but literature on living with and beating cancer. By the time the ultrasound technician retreived me from that waiting area, I had already mentally re-arranged the next six months of my life to account for the surgery and chemotherapy I was sure I was going to have to have. (Yes, I went there... I am a planner.)
Thankfully, the ultrasound technician dropped the word "cyst" while she was doing her exam, which sounded a little better to me than "mass" or "tumor," and allowed me to relax (a little) while she left to show THOSE results to the doctor. After several long minutes, the doctor and the ultrasound technician returned and informed me that I have three cysts.
Nothing sinister. No cancer. They may grew. They may shrink. They may disappear. They may not.
Nothing that needs to be done.
Except. Breathe.
The next six months of my life... instantly back to their normal crazy.
So, back to that waiting room... would a People Magazine or two be too much to ask?
For future reference, it's probably not a good idea--after calling a woman back to the office or follow-up pictures because you saw something on the original films -- to take approximately one gazillion pictures of the offending breast, say you're going to go show them to doctor, and then put said women in an inner-office waiting area -- without any hint of what was or wasn't in the retake photos and for almost 30 minutes -- where the reading material consists of nothing but literature on living with and beating cancer. By the time the ultrasound technician retreived me from that waiting area, I had already mentally re-arranged the next six months of my life to account for the surgery and chemotherapy I was sure I was going to have to have. (Yes, I went there... I am a planner.)
Thankfully, the ultrasound technician dropped the word "cyst" while she was doing her exam, which sounded a little better to me than "mass" or "tumor," and allowed me to relax (a little) while she left to show THOSE results to the doctor. After several long minutes, the doctor and the ultrasound technician returned and informed me that I have three cysts.
Nothing sinister. No cancer. They may grew. They may shrink. They may disappear. They may not.
Nothing that needs to be done.
Except. Breathe.
The next six months of my life... instantly back to their normal crazy.
So, back to that waiting room... would a People Magazine or two be too much to ask?
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