The Errant Mammogram

On the first of this month, I had my first mammogram in four years. I missed a year because of shoulder surgery. Seriously, I couldn't lift my arm! Ditto the next year. Then I didn't have insurance. And truly it is an easy thing to put off, but one I shouldn't because I have an extensive family history of breast cancer. I once had an awful experience with mammography: I was strapped down to a table for four hours while a doctor did a needle biopsy (or something like that). He was having trouble getting to exactly the right spot. I had been in a pretty bad car accident about two months prior, and had injured my neck and back (along with other parts) so by the time I was finally released from the torture table I was fairly traumatized. My diagnosis came back fine, as did my next regular mammogram diagnosis, but the following year I had a core biopsy -- which was a breeze compared to the table incident -- and that too came back fine. I had three more screening mammograms after that, all fine.

When I finished up the most recent procedure, I was told that the results would be sent to my doctor and I would get a letter in about a week. I've always heard that if everything is fine, you get a letter; if not, you're doctor breaks it to you. A week passed; I didn't get a letter. Then my son and granddaughters were here and I wasn't paying that much attention to the mail, but I went through it on the weekend. No letter, no call from my doctor. By Monday, I was starting to panic. I called my doctor's office and left a message that said, in a very nice way, "What the fuck is going on?" I like my doctor a lot, and his staff too, but the staff can be slow to return calls. When I hadn't heard back by Tuesday, I called the mammography center. The only number I had was for scheduling, but I was routed to the file office.

The lady who answered asked for my information, including when I had been in. She said, "I see your name here, but I don't see a file on you. Can you please hold on a moment?" Someone else got on the phone and asked if I had brought films in with me. It turns out the office was supposed to have called to see if I had had a mammogram somewhere else in those intervening years, but no one did. My images hadn't even been read yet -- two and a half weeks later! All that worrying for nothing. And, of course, that puts me back to square one with waiting. If there is a problem, I doubt that those two weeks would have made a difference. But just think; if I hadn't called, my images could have been sitting in a pile forever, unread.

My doctor's office called me back later that day -- his staff had been calling all over the place trying to find my images because I had neglected to say in my message where I had them done -- and when I told his assistant what happened she said, "I hope you let them have it!" They know me there. She said she would watch for the file and call me the minute it crossed the desk. Since it's 6:30 on Friday afternoon, I guess it will be next week. My youngest son, the one who has posted here for me from time to time, says I have an MO when it comes to my blog entries, and I would have to agree (although they don't all fit the mold): Tell a story, make it semi-allegorical, end on a positive note. Or something like that. Not today, buddy. Today I'm just pissed.