The appointment with my gynecologist went off without a hitch. She examined my breasts and immediately detected an abnormality on my right side. Lumpty Dumpty was affirmed. She noted that I did not present any other tell-tale signs of cancer: no skin puckering, no discoloration, not nipple discharge. As far as she was concerned, there wasn’t much of a concern. But, due to my family history, she decided it was worth a closer look. So, she put in an order for a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound. I was no stranger to mammograms, having received them annually for the past few years. But, she informed me that this one would be a bit different being of a diagnostic nature. She explained that I was in a good position for effective diagnostics because of my previous mammograms: they had a baseline to make comparisons. I left the gyno’s office feeling fairly confidant that my lump was nothing to stress over, that it was likely nothing more than a cyst. After all, I’m only 46 years old, and aside from the lump, by breasts appear to be perfectly healthy. I went directly to the Scheduling desk only to find that it would be a good 6 weeks before they could squeeze me in for that mammogram (pun intended).
Sour Tits 