i can't get my mammography results because they can't give that information over the phone. in fact, they can't even give that information to me. nope. they have to give it to my new creepy doctor who will then let me know when she's back in the office. next week.
yesterday, i was waiting for my appointment and trying to read an espn magazine - because that's what magazine a women's radiology clinic should stock - and trying like mad not to look at the woman wiping tears from her eyes and trying even harder than that not to look at her husband, whose hand was gripped so tightly around her knee and whose leg was tapping scared-nervously and trying most harder than that not to look at her mom...who, damn it, was sitting stiffly and holding her purse in her lap and looking like she wanted to be holding her baby instead. and the girls at the desk were giggling on the phone.
and i wanted to tell them to knock it off, their pretending that there was anything funny left in the world.
then i was waiting in my little robe and missing my lotions and potions and thinking i certainly did not smell like me, when i overheard the nurse talking to the woman in the room next to mine. all business. when did you find the lump? did you find it or did your doctor find it? is this your insurance? do you have secondary insurance? and when the woman had a question, it was all business. i'm sorry, ma'am. you'll have to talk to your doctor about that. i'm sorry, ma'am. i can't speak to that. i'm sorry, ma'am. i'm not allowed to say.
and i wanted to tell her to knock it off, with her third-grade teacher tone.
my first mammogram after my sister died took place in oman. the technician in the room with me was fully covered, spoke very little english or just chose not to, and took most of her time making sure i didn't feel naked. afterwards, i asked if everything looked okay. and she looked. and she looked some more. and then she nodded and said okay. you're okay.
and i remember losing it. like tears waterfalling. spilling my heart out and telling her all about my sister and my heart-broken mom and my babies and how i just have to stay okay. and she sat next to me and put her wing around me and just kept saying how everything's okay.
i had a few in jordan with the same level of care and understanding. one tech even showed me film of a patient with a lump...just so i could see how different her scans looked from mine.
both countries, not one question about whether or not i'd pay. nothing to do with secondary or primary insurance or by law, i'm not allowed to say.
uncle sugar is right. i swim upstream. i'm drawn to different every time. i am a brat.
i was just talking to my doctor's office.
"ma'am. we leave at noon. there will be no one here to read your results."
"can't you stay a little extra today?" i asked softly.
"ma'am? i'm sorry?" with her third-grade teacher voice.
"i hate it here." i said even softer.
"ma'am?" moving up to fourth-grade, at least.
yeah. i guess miffed is not exactly the right word. most of the ones above are. xoxo. photos from idon'tknowwhere.