I had a scary medical thing happen, which I wrote about here in the post Buried Alive.Yesterday, I went to have the biopsy done.
My friend drove me to what would have been the biopsy. She left me when they led me back into a second reception room.Even though I knew there would be a terrific chance of survival, a cancer diagnosis is still scary – more procedures, more doctor’s appointments, more expense, possible side effects would all have been in order.
The procedure was explained, what to expect, who would be in the room, the order things would happen, the equipment which would be used, the sounds that would be made – a very thorough and welcome explanation. And then the doctor came in to speak with me – to answer questions, and explain that there was a good chance that what had shown up as a suspicious spot might have been just a shadow.
Just a shadow.
And they would try to confirm or deny. If there was no spot, then no biopsy. Nothing to biopsy. No cancer.
But they could go ahead and aspirate that cyst if I liked, either way. Yes, please.
They used an imaging scanner during the aspiration, and I watched the whole thing, which is as described above in the poem. I continue to be amazed at medical technology, and grateful to the people who learn it, use it, and who bring their compassion with them to their jobs.
And that is how I have come to have needed no biopsy, and have aspirations instead.
I told them that my dreams of being irradiated could wait for, perhaps, another day.
It was a good day to find out I don’t have cancer.
Later that day, I walked up to get some ice cream.