BD: Pokerface
I finally got my assignment to my new primary doctor and an appointment for the second clinical breast exam. Dr. Curry gave me a referral for a mammogram and ultrasound of the lump. She didn't seem too concerned at the time, but thought it would be good to do all necessary testing to rule out any possibilities. I wasn't too enthused to have my breasts squished into boobie pancakes, like other women have told me is the case, but again I wasn't too worried. Of course, the "what if's" popped up every now and then, but I would just remind myself, you're low risk and thinking anything serious is going to come of all this is just silly!
I got my appointment 3 weeks later (again another good sign that the medical community felt like they didn't need to rush anything!) I went to the Kearney Breast Center, and I definitely felt out of place. Everyone else was at least in their 40's and up, and the staff even seem confused I was there for an appointment for myself. It's similar to all those times I would shop for a gift for someone in the skinny-mini clothing section, and I know I'm a part of the "chub-club" section, and everyone seems to be looking at me like, "Awww, sweetie, you don't belong here!" (There have been times I felt like announcing to everyone, "It's ok! I'm just buying a gift!" lol) So you can imagine, it wasn't really natural for me to be there.
The mamm-o-tech was pretty peppy and chatted away about what to expect since I was a rookie in the boobie pancake department. She had to target the area in question when doing the imaging and was pretty skeptical that there was much to see until she went poking around for herself. And sure enough, my girl didn't disappoint her! Still pretty peppy and light-hearted about the whole thing, she explained after the test that the doctor would review the images and decide if an ultrasound is even needed. She pranced out of the room to check in with the doctor (who at this point seemed like the wizard in The Wizard of Oz.) When she came back in the room, she had the "pokerface."
Preston and I light-heartedly refer to the face doctors or, in this case, techs seem to take on when they know something you don't, but can't really tell you because they have lawsuit paranoia. It's almost as amusing as it is scary...almost. When you ask questions when a doctor is in pokerface-mode, you can expect that the questions will likely be answered in a vague, indefinitive fashion.
When we first went into Preston's appointment to get the test results and an examination by the urologist, we saw that same pokerface. Preston was asked a lot of questions, poked and prodded. The doctor left the room, another doctor came in with a resident in training, they both poked and prodded, stared intently as they asked each other technical questions that us "laymen" thought was some version of Greek, and left the room. We shared a confused stare. The 2nd doctor (who was actually a surgeon) came back and announced that Preston would need to have surgery in 2 days to remove half the family jewels because of the "possibilities" of what his condition could be. Uh, come again? Pokerface.
Because testicular cancer was part of those playing cards, Preston's condition was serious. They told us a scary story about a 21-year old who let the condition go too long and faced dire consequences, but Preston was lucky....IF he has it...because they would be able to catch it and treat it early....IF he has it. Only surgery would give us the definitive answer we were looking for. Throughout the week of waiting for surgery (thankfully it was pushed back due to some extra testing), we were faced with "what if it's cancer." After surgery, when the same surgeon came out to update me on Preston's recovery process, I asked him if they finally knew whether or not it's cancer, and he said to me before he walked away, "It's almost always cancer."
Let me stop here and explain that I have a high respect for the medical community. I think it is unfortunate that we live in a "sue-happy" world, where the few that have tried to abuse the system out of greed or other bad motives have forced the healthcare system to "bear arms" when it comes to effectively informing their patients about their care. Now in that moment, when I was watching the surgeon walk away, I wanted to sue him! He broke my trust. He wasn't upfront with us about what he really knew, and it kind of set a precedent in us that whenever we saw that pokerface again, we knew to be on guard because we were facing the "anti-lawsuit wall."
Fast forward to the mamm-o-tech's face and demeanor, I knew I was looking at that wall again. The same kind of story played out with the ultrasound tech. She was a little more serious, but still light-hearted and normal about everything. After the testing, she too went to see the Wizard of Oz, and said she would be back if he felt anything more needed to be addressed. Preston and I waited. When the door finally opened, and the wizard himself was standing there, pokerface and all, our little complacent bubble popped.
**This blog was written in October 2012, but chronologically happened in August 2012**
I got my appointment 3 weeks later (again another good sign that the medical community felt like they didn't need to rush anything!) I went to the Kearney Breast Center, and I definitely felt out of place. Everyone else was at least in their 40's and up, and the staff even seem confused I was there for an appointment for myself. It's similar to all those times I would shop for a gift for someone in the skinny-mini clothing section, and I know I'm a part of the "chub-club" section, and everyone seems to be looking at me like, "Awww, sweetie, you don't belong here!" (There have been times I felt like announcing to everyone, "It's ok! I'm just buying a gift!" lol) So you can imagine, it wasn't really natural for me to be there.
The mamm-o-tech was pretty peppy and chatted away about what to expect since I was a rookie in the boobie pancake department. She had to target the area in question when doing the imaging and was pretty skeptical that there was much to see until she went poking around for herself. And sure enough, my girl didn't disappoint her! Still pretty peppy and light-hearted about the whole thing, she explained after the test that the doctor would review the images and decide if an ultrasound is even needed. She pranced out of the room to check in with the doctor (who at this point seemed like the wizard in The Wizard of Oz.) When she came back in the room, she had the "pokerface."
Preston and I light-heartedly refer to the face doctors or, in this case, techs seem to take on when they know something you don't, but can't really tell you because they have lawsuit paranoia. It's almost as amusing as it is scary...almost. When you ask questions when a doctor is in pokerface-mode, you can expect that the questions will likely be answered in a vague, indefinitive fashion.
When we first went into Preston's appointment to get the test results and an examination by the urologist, we saw that same pokerface. Preston was asked a lot of questions, poked and prodded. The doctor left the room, another doctor came in with a resident in training, they both poked and prodded, stared intently as they asked each other technical questions that us "laymen" thought was some version of Greek, and left the room. We shared a confused stare. The 2nd doctor (who was actually a surgeon) came back and announced that Preston would need to have surgery in 2 days to remove half the family jewels because of the "possibilities" of what his condition could be. Uh, come again? Pokerface.
Because testicular cancer was part of those playing cards, Preston's condition was serious. They told us a scary story about a 21-year old who let the condition go too long and faced dire consequences, but Preston was lucky....IF he has it...because they would be able to catch it and treat it early....IF he has it. Only surgery would give us the definitive answer we were looking for. Throughout the week of waiting for surgery (thankfully it was pushed back due to some extra testing), we were faced with "what if it's cancer." After surgery, when the same surgeon came out to update me on Preston's recovery process, I asked him if they finally knew whether or not it's cancer, and he said to me before he walked away, "It's almost always cancer."
Let me stop here and explain that I have a high respect for the medical community. I think it is unfortunate that we live in a "sue-happy" world, where the few that have tried to abuse the system out of greed or other bad motives have forced the healthcare system to "bear arms" when it comes to effectively informing their patients about their care. Now in that moment, when I was watching the surgeon walk away, I wanted to sue him! He broke my trust. He wasn't upfront with us about what he really knew, and it kind of set a precedent in us that whenever we saw that pokerface again, we knew to be on guard because we were facing the "anti-lawsuit wall."
Fast forward to the mamm-o-tech's face and demeanor, I knew I was looking at that wall again. The same kind of story played out with the ultrasound tech. She was a little more serious, but still light-hearted and normal about everything. After the testing, she too went to see the Wizard of Oz, and said she would be back if he felt anything more needed to be addressed. Preston and I waited. When the door finally opened, and the wizard himself was standing there, pokerface and all, our little complacent bubble popped.
**This blog was written in October 2012, but chronologically happened in August 2012**
