Back to the Boobs

I went in for my second annual mammogram today. I has to go over to Vanderbilt because my insurance is a dumpster fire. This is nothing against Vanderbilt. I really liked how things went today.

But, seeing as how this was the year follow-up after my surgery, I would have preferred to go to the place that did my surgery and thus would have my films and charts and such.

Instead, only half the shit Vanderbilt needed ended up over there, even though I checked at my appointment and called to make sure everything had been sent.

So, instead of finding out today that everything looks good, I have a kind of half-knowledge. The doctor said he didn’t see anything in there he’d be worried about if this were my first mammogram. However, knowing that this is my second, he really wished he had the first one to compare to.

When he gets those, he’ll be able to give me a better all-clear.

Here’s the thing, though. I’d like to think, based on my mom and grandma, that I’m not quite halfway through my life. But I’m close.

I don’t want to be on my death bed wishing I’d really tried to get a novel published.

5 thoughts on “Back to the Boobs

  1. Around here, you have to actually go pick up your records and take them to the new place. Then you have to return them to the first place. My doctor keeps trying to get me to go somewhere else for my mammos and I’m like “NO.FING.WAY” I’ve been going to the same place for 20 years (except for an occasional year where I learned how much of a hassle the switch is) and I’ll be damned if I’m going somewhere else now. Unless my insurance changes, of course. Bleah. Hell, at this point I might even pay to stay at the same place.

  2. I thought for sure I’d have to carry the images over, which is why I specifically asked twice, but they assured me all was well, and it was not, which, I guess, just goes to show that I should have insisted.

  3. Several years ago I had a reproductive endocrinologist all set to schedule me for a surgery to correct what I’ll call diagnosis A. However, I do not need the surgery for diagnosis A because I actually have diagnosis B and as a result that surgery is not really possible and would not do anything. When I asked why a person with diagnosis B would need this surgery they wanted to know why I thought I had diagnosis B. They were not amused when I said, “You guys did,” but were quite relieved and amused when the file backed me up. I was…not so much relieved or amused.

    But I am glad at least your half knowledge is unconcerning.

  4. I or my phone left off the first sentence which said, “And then you have to get them to read the records they have.” Which might make it a bit more relevant to the post…

  5. Yeah, it’s annoying, but so far it’s not making me feel like no one knows what’s going on. I’m just waiting for all my records to catch up with each other.

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