Good for another 100,000 miles
On a personal note, I had my annual mammogram today. As a breast cancer survivor, this is an event so pants-pissingly anxiety-provoking that in the weeks approaching it I almost reach the point of hysteria. Driving to the clinic is a real test, as I force myself not to take turnoff after turnoff along the way. Let no fool cut in front of me; in this vicious state of mind I'd purposely rear-end him.
After the squashed images were taken, as usual the radiologists hemmed and hawed and fucked around and took a closer look at "something they didn't like". By the time the second round of images was complete, I'd already decided on a double mastectomy and immediate reconstruction, even if one of them was okay. Even if both of them were okay. Banned! I was banning these troublemaking trolls from my chest once and for all.
So when the radiologist returned, apologized for the wait and said I was good to go, I was shocked: "Are you shitting me!!? They're okay?" Yes, okay. "Both?" Yes, both. I leaped around and thanked her profusely -- psychologically it felt like I'd had cancer for 20 minutes and she cured me.
And so begins Year 8 of survivordom. Woo friggin HOOOOO!
After the squashed images were taken, as usual the radiologists hemmed and hawed and fucked around and took a closer look at "something they didn't like". By the time the second round of images was complete, I'd already decided on a double mastectomy and immediate reconstruction, even if one of them was okay. Even if both of them were okay. Banned! I was banning these troublemaking trolls from my chest once and for all.
So when the radiologist returned, apologized for the wait and said I was good to go, I was shocked: "Are you shitting me!!? They're okay?" Yes, okay. "Both?" Yes, both. I leaped around and thanked her profusely -- psychologically it felt like I'd had cancer for 20 minutes and she cured me.
And so begins Year 8 of survivordom. Woo friggin HOOOOO!
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