11 March 2024

Well. This was an interesting day.

So, I got up and went in for my colonoscopy consult. And first off, the nurse who checked my vitals put the blood-pressure cuff on my lower arm. I am fifty years old and never in my fucking life has anyone put the cuff there and that includes when I was donating blood. I have NO idea what that was about. The nurse remarked that my BP seemed high and I said yeah, the cuff hurts, and she didn’t seem overly concerned after the second read so maybe that will all get sorted out. I have no fucking idea.

But otherwise it was uneventful and I went on to McDonald’s after that because I hadn’t so much as had any coffee yet (I’m not a morning person at the best of times, but we just went back to Daylight Savings Time and I lost an hour), so I got one of their bacon cheeseburgers and fries and a caramel iced coffee. Let’s just say Wendy’s has nothing to worry about from either Mickey D’s or Burger King when it comes to bacon cheeseburgers and we’ll leave it at that. More importantly, I got a call from the hospital right around then. It was the hospital wanting to schedule my preadmit. It so happened they had an opening after my consult but before my diagnostic mammo at the hospital.

Well, okay then.

Got my preadmit (and EKG; I’d been worried about heart stuff but the EKG seems to think I’m fine) and then they walked me to the mammo department. There had been talk of me getting an ultrasound after the mammo if they couldn’t clear things up with the mammo. Well.

So I got the initial diagnostic mammo of my errant right tit;

Then that wasn’t enough so they ROLLED MY RIGHT TIT in two different directions to get more pictures;

And then that wasn’t enough either so it was time, apparently, for the ultrasound.

So I’m thinking hey, no big deal right? Ultrasound’s pretty much nothing unless you get a transvaginal, and then it depends.


It was just as bad as the mammo. Just from a different angle.

In the end I came very close to the MD who read all the mammos and breast ultrasounds coming in to do another ultrasound series herself, but I guess she was happy with the tech’s images. But she did come in and speak with me directly.

So guess what?

I have to have a biopsy now. Of two sites in my right tit, if I remember correctly.

I thought, “Oh shit, surgery,” but turns out it’s just a needle biopsy. They won’t even conk me out for the procedure; they’ll just numb the area a whole lot. I am expecting it will still hurt. I remember how my c-section went. I suppose I am just going to have to cope.

So. Since the last week of February I have had: two primary care visits, two mammogram visits, an ultrasound, and a colonoscopy consult. Coming up before the end of March, my actual colonoscopy next Tuesday (not tomorrow but next week) and then the biopsy the Monday after that.

And we still haven’t gotten around to my fucking fibroids. I’m waiting for everything else to settle down before I go down that road.

And let’s not forget I am on metformin now.


Now, I’m still not worried about the tit. Far as I know there’s been no one in my mom’s family with breast cancer. If it has happened, whoever it was has been an outlier. And most of the time when a mammogram finds something, turns out it’s entirely benign. I’ve known this for literal decades.

Except… it’s me. So I’m not assuming things will turn out well. I’m not worried, I’m just not optimistic.

We tried optimism. That is why I am in my current mess.

Lesson learned.

I’ll update you when I know something. Dunno when it’ll get uploaded, but it’ll get written.


Apparently, hospital administrators don’t give a sweet shit about making mammography suites hospitable to their usual patients. Apparently, it takes breast cancer charities to do that. Everything nice in that waiting room had a breast cancer charity’s name on it. Whatever.

Apparently, women getting tits squished are, like, five or something. Pink flowers on the mammogram machine (they use a stick-on flannel-like “blanket” on the platform to make it more comfortable). Pink-wrapped lollipops in the waiting area. Insert huge eyeroll here. But I suppose their hearts are in the right place.

Oh, and know how they know where your nipple is when a mammo is basically a specialized x-ray and a nipple is soft tissue? Well, they put this specialized band-aid across your nipple with a metal dot centered over it.

And do remove it when you’re done. If you forget it, it’ll make you itch later.

P.S. The staff at the American Legion hospital in Crowley are super nice. Absolutely stellar. Had a good experience overall even with the physical annoyances. 10/10 would recommend.

Even Dad told me later that when he went for his ass-spelunking, same facility, they gave him a bowl of grits when he woke up and he said it was the best grits he’d had in a long time. Good hospital food? Shet yo mouf.

What do I mean by we tried optimism?

Most of the stupid situations I got into, I went into them wide-eyed and happy and hoping for the best.

That began breaking down when I got pregnant with Thea. By then I had seen for myself that what I had hoped for was not fucking happening. When you get pregnant is a really bad time for that to happen. And when a woman’s going through that, the worst thing her man can do is double down on what’s making her feel unsafe in the situation — but that didn’t fucking stop Matt, did it. And face it, he was never my man anyway. The whole fucking thing was a scam.

So I’m like, fuck all y’all. Take that Pollyanna shit somewhere else. I’m taking it one day at a time, and I’m not believing in anyone but me anymore. And I have a hard enough fucking time with that.

If shit goes wrong, fine. Then it’s going wrong. I’ll deal. If it goes well, yay. What will be, will be.

But, I’ve got The Waterboy and Kindergarten Cop to entertain me. I guess the movies they repeat over and over on satellite reboot to new ones at the beginning of each month? We’ll see.

If I have no other reason to get a job, I really need to get a DVD player.