Spiculated update

Last Friday was my consult with the surgeon about that spiculated mass evident on my recent mammogram. I showed up nearly half an hour early¹, with my two-foot-square envelope of X-rays in hand, which gave me just enough time to fill out the half dozen forms that every medical appointment seems to require these days before the nurse called me in.

Now, I've long since gotten used to the replacement of real examination gowns (i.e., made of cloth, knee length, with armholes and ties or snaps) by paper crop-tops that you have to hold closed. But I admit to still being somewhat taken aback when the doctor handed me what appeared to be a hospital-green tea towel, with which I was supposed to drape myself after removing my upper clothing. (To his credit, he did acknowledge the brevity of this lovely garment with the comment "You can tell it's Parisian, because it doesn't cover very much." But I digress.)

After checking out my X-rays and ultrasound, and giving that breast its third manual examination in as many weeks, his verdict was that the mass, at 3 mm, was too small either to detect manually or to effectively biopsy (I think his actual words were something to the effect that it would be difficult to hit it with a biopsy needle), so I should have another mammogram six months from the ones I just had, and a followup appointment with him to see if it's gotten any bigger. Presumably, if by then it's big enough to hit with a needle, I'll have a biopsy.

Now isn't that something to look forward to?

¹If I have an appointment that's nominally a 15-minute drive away, and I actually leave 15 minutes before the scheduled appointment, it's a foregone conclusion that an accident and ensuing traffic jam will conspire to make me late. Or I'll take a wrong turn and have to backtrack for ten miles. Or both. Therefore I always leave 45 minutes before, whereupon I encounter no holdups, and thus spend half an hour reading a two-year-old magazine, perusing the doctor's framed credentials, and/or filling out forms.