When "routine" isn't

So, last Tuesday I went for my routine annual mammogram. Check in, update my insurance info, fill out the form listing all my medications, reiterate my family history, and sign the statement that says NO, there is no chance that I am pregnant, zero, trust me on this. Put on the silly wrap, get squoze four ways, and I'm done. Like I said, routine, like a dozen times before.

Except...

Wednesday morning my doctor's office calls. He wants me to come in to go over my results. Like, that day, at 1:00. This is NOT routine.

The upshot is that the mammogram showed a "small spiculated mass" that wasn't there last year. So Monday I've got to go in for another mammogram, this time something called a "cone compression series". As near as I can make out, it's the same thing only they squeeze harder. And then I'm supposed to take both sets of films plus last year's to a general surgeon for evaluation. Maybe a biopsy.

Mind you, neither my doctor nor his physician's assistant is able to detect this "spiculated mass" in a manual examination. So at least, he says, whatever it is, it's small. This is a dubious reassurance at best.

I did not need this.