Relief.

So, after all my ballsy "hey, I'll have an MRI and this time, it will all be easy!" thoughts, of course things couldn't go smoothly.

Had the MRI last Friday.  Almost first thing Monday morning, the technician called me and told me there was something 'suspicious' on the left side.  I couldn't believe it!  Where could something suspicious even be?!  They took everything off, didn't they?!  Immediately, I begin panicking that the five errant cells have taken hold and this whole health nightmare would begin again.  The technician did mention that perhaps the MRI was just picking up scar tissue, but that would have to be confirmed.

The technician then told me I needed to come back in for a directed ultrasound and a physical exam.  She said someone would call me later to schedule it.  Um, what?!  You just call to give the perhaps-bad news and then leave me hanging?  Grrrrrrr.  A few hours later, Dr Pay in Advance's office called and said she wanted to do the physical exam herself, then I should have the ultrasound.  So we made an appointment for this morning.

Being me, I couldn't just sit and brood on my own, so I called my sister.  She told me to e-mail my plastic surgeon's office and see what they might have to say about scar tissue.  My sister is very smart.  I e-mailed the office manager, who is always very kind to answer my paranoid e-mails, and talked to her later that afternoon.  She said that yes, scar tissue can develop, and it would probably be fine, but I should keep them in the loop.  And if, heaven forbid, I needed a biopsy, not to worry because insurance would cover replacing the ruptured implant.  OK, so...I felt better talking to her for about the first few minutes.  After that, not so much.

Two days of terror, worry and concern I wouldn't be able to do all this again.  Then I would tell myself to calm down and just decide that yes, it is indeed scar tissue screwing up the MRI and nothing is the matter.  I was having quite the conversations with myself, especially at night.  I went to a reading of a new musical Monday night, which took my mind off things, then worried most of the day yesterday.  I feel sorry for my workmates.  Then I saw a show last night (post to come), which took my mind off it pretty well.  Didn't sleep at all and dragged myself into that dang office again this morning.

For once, I didn't have to pay Dr Pay in Advance in advance.  That was a first!  Which kinda scared me.  But she came right out and said she thought it was scar tissue, too, but we should do the other tests, just to be sure.  When the nurse took me back to the examining room, we stopped at a scale.  I said, really?  We have to do this now?  I'm depressed enough.  She laughed and said never mind.  Then, when we got into the room, she took my blood pressure.  She said, um, that's REALLY high!!  Are you nervous about something?  I said, uh, YES.  Hello.  Doesn't she read the chart?

Dr Pay in Advance came into the room and took a very long time doing an exam.  She also peppered me with questions, like have I had the flu recently, do I feel pain, any changes in general health since my last visit.  She said she did feel something, but was certain it was scar tissue underneath.  Since the MRI didn't show any activity on the breast wall behind my implants (and that's the area she's worried about), she was confident things were fine.  Though she did say she wanted to take my blood pressure again before I left and if it wasn't lower, she was sending me back to the cardiologist (Dr They Didn't Operate On Your Legs).  I said, believe me, once everyone says I'm ok, the blood pressure will skyrocket downward.

So down I went to the third floor and waited around for the ultrasound.  Good times.  I hate waiting in that waiting room.  The tension in there is always palpable.  I picked up the People magazine and tried to relax and lower my blood pressure.  Finally, they took me into the ultrasound room.

It's a strange feeling, or non-feeling, to have implants tested.  I see that the technician is pouring that gel stuff on my person, and I see her pass the wand back and forth, but I can't feel it.  It's just really strange.  The technician seemed, to me, to be taking an awfully long time to look at scar tissue.  Then she went and got this weird disc that sort of looked like a bar of glycerin soap.  She put that over the area, then put the wand on top of that.  It was just odd - how could she get a reading if she wasn't actually touching the area?  I didn't understand.  Then she went out to get a doctor (and by now I'm sweating bullets), then the doctor did the same thing.

Thankfully, FINALLY, the doctor agreed that it was scar tissue under there.  She suggested I have another MRI next year, and maybe even a mammogram (blech), just to make sure everything stays in tip top shape.  As long as she said it wasn't bad news, I was happy.  Then I had to go back up to Dr Pay in Advance's office and wait around for her to read the test results herself.  After maybe an hour, she came and sat with me in the waiting room and told me yes, it was scar tissue, nothing to worry about.  WHOOSH.  Big relief.  OMG.  No words.  Then she made me take another blood pressure test, which, indeed, was scads lower.  Everyone laughed and I went on my merry way.

But.  Wow.  I know I've had it pretty easy this whole time.  They caught the DCIS early, I had everything taken off, I've had no complications (imagine me knocking wood right now).  But I just could not wrap my head around starting the whole thing over again.  And adding more invasive measures to the mix, because I can't imagine having things quite so easy again if another problem should crop up.  I believe I've mentioned my avoidance/denial way of life.  Having a two-day worryfest before getting the all clear is not conducive to that way of life.  I'm thinking I may have to go home tonight and watch a really sad movie (I have A Tree Grows in Brooklyn on the DVR, that should do the trick) and have a really big cry-out.  Then, pull up my big girl pants and get on with things.  Which is what I probably would've done if the news had been bad, but I'm thanking my lucky stars that I didn't have to put that theory to the test...