Several weeks ago it was time for my annual mammogram, I am on a yearly call up since my brush with BC a couple of years ago. Displayed around the changing rooms were several entrants in the local decorated bra competition, Bra Artz. They certainly brought smiles to the face as we went to slip into our fetching hospital gowns.
Some of the decorated bras on display
After the procedure was done I was told to get dressed and we went on our way. “We’ll phone if we need you to come back”, I was told. That seemed OK – when I had my “bad mammogram” a couple of years ago, I was ushered into an office and told the devastating news straight away. So home I went, and waited, and waited. No phone call came from the clinic for a recall, thank goodness, but I expected a letter in the mail telling me everything was fine. Then I read on the info sheet that this clinic does not send out the results after all, and Robin’s view was that no news is good news, and stop worrying.
Mmmm, easier said than done, isn’t it, especially as I am a cancer survivor, and a bit of a worrier to boot! So today I phoned the clinic and spoke to one of the nurses about my worries. She was very understanding and read me out all the medical jargon. Once she said that a copy of the report had been sent to my oncologist and GP, (I would have known that if I’d stopped to think it through) I realised that of course the report was OK as the specialist wouldn’t leave anything to chance.
So, with a big sigh of relief I can now put that particular worry behind me and get on with things – perhaps a little stitching. I should know better at my age, don’t you think?