Celebrating The Boy

The Boy took his final ACT test on October 25th.  Today the results came in.  It wasn't a new personal record, but it did match his highest score to date.  And for that, I was really proud of him.

A couple more points would have made a big difference in moving him to a full-ride situation next year.  But as it is, and depending on where he goes, he is already qualified for half and even a three-quarters tuition scholarship.  His GPA and the ACT score are combined by some universities to determine the scholarship a student can qualify for at admission.  He is well on his way to a college education.  And I couldn't be prouder of him.

He's paid close attention to his GPA and has worked very hard to keep it up and to do well in his classes--even the hard ones, like Calculus.  He's even studied for the ACT and took practice tests.  It is all good enough for me.

Tonight, The Boy and Genius Golfer and I went to dinner at our favorite Mexican place to celebrate the end of the testing and the start of the applications.  Where has the time gone!?

ReCheck Relief

Today I had a recall for further mammography views.  Not my favorite way to spend the day.  Actually, it was enough to make me worry since the word came that I had to go back in for another turn. 

The last time I had this happen--it was at this very hospital then too--I ended with multiple MRIs and even a biopsy that ended in a benign spot that was nothing to worry about.  Easy for them to say.

Today when I checked in I asked specifically if they would please give me preliminary results before I left to avert any panic that was creeping up in me again.  She assured me that I wouldn't leave this time without a better idea of what is going on.





Today, the extra pictures of my boob showed that the spot in question last time was just a spot of very dense tissue--"gristle" I like to think--but after smashing it even flatter with a smaller paddle (thus squishing the are more severely, but more accurately as well) it was determined that it was just an area that looked suspicious but isn't really anything more than my gristly boob.

Nice.

At least that is a relief and I can move on with my week, and other worries.

Test Anxiety

Today I got to proctor a PSAT at the high school.  That is a Preliminary SAT--a version of a practice test for sophomores and juniors.  Our school offers it for our sophs and juniors that need a SAT score to get into some of the concurrent classes.  All the juniors will take the ACT in the spring.  But today we had a group of about 70 kids, all looking a little green as they entered the library.

Giving the test was a little stressful too.  I can read just fine, but the directions for the test are so basic and minute it is laughable.  Because they are so remedial, it caused me to have to reread some because I wasn't sure I was reading it right.  So much for modeling confidence and cool calmness.

Somethings I get to do at the high school because of the PTSA job I have this year, are more pleasant than others.  But anytime I get to do things with the students, the better I like it.  So this was a great chance to volunteer.  It is times when I get to interact directly with students when I really like my job.

First the Stress, Now the Fee

The bills from my June Medical Nightmare are starting to roll in. Isn't it curious that the tests are over and done with just long enough that you get to have a good, deep breath, and then the wind is knocked out of you again by the cost of what they had done to you?

I was really irate yesterday when I got the bill for the hospital that did my biopsy. Yes, they did give me the "insurance adjusted deduction" but the total was still in the thousands of dollars. Did they remember that I didn't CHOOSE this procedure? I was strongly admonished--nigh unto commanded--to have this done. I would rather take a Disneyland vacation with that money, now that I know I was OK. But that is always the after-the-fact choice.

I am still responsible for the payment of these outrageously expensive tests. Yes, I was a responsible adult, and had medical insurance, but we still have deductibles to pay for and the percentage not covered after the deductible is met. It is going to add up to a lot of money.

I know that if I didn't choose to have the tests done, the likelihood of cancer actually being there would have been great--not to mention the "What If" factor that I always have in the back of my head. I really wonder if they overload the testing in a situation like mine, just to avoid malpractice of negligence lawsuits in the event they might miss a diagnosis otherwise.

It is too bad. No wonder the cost of health care of so astronomical.

I spoke with someone, after my pathology came back clean, and she said she had a similar experience. In her case though, she said they did the initial mammogram which indicated something "suspicious". They had her back for another mammogram, and then did a biopsy. I had an additional ultrasound exam , and an MRI exam before the MRI guided biopsy. Certainly, the extra tests will cost me.

If they had found something, maybe I would feel differently, and I can see the wisdom in conservative decisions in medicine. I just hope the choices medical professional made on my behalf, were medically necessary, and not just made to cover their butts. Because I am the responsible party here than now has to pay for their work.

Who knows? Maybe I am just financing their summer homes in Aspen.

R-E-L-I-E-F At Last!

I got a call from the radiologist yesterday afternoon with the results already from the biopsy. I hadn't expected them until today, so that was a welcome surprise. But the best surprise was that there was no cancer found in the tissue that was biopsied.

What a relief!

It has been a very difficult month of testing and stressing. I know that I have been overly tired from mental and emotional exhaustion. I have probably been overly snippy with my family. I have been overly worried about the big "What Ifs". It is nice to know all that has come to no good.

Recreational worry is my favorite kind--at least, after the fact. In the midst of the stresses, worrying can at least make you feel like you are actively engaged in something, as useless as it it. I have to put the worry somewhere. Luckily, I have good friends who will hear me vent it out and worry along side with me.

Thank you for all your recreational co-worrying with me this past month. It was a good feeling to know I have friends who were there for me, even if with only a kind word or a supportive comment. Even if my results had been different, I know I would have been OK in the long run. I have a lot of friends and family who love me and that makes a big difference when something like this is put into your path or into your face. I thank you each for that. It means a great deal to me.

A Biopsy and a Cabana Boy

Yesterday I had the biopsy done at St. Mark's hospital. It was an MRI guided biopsy, which means they take another set of MRI pictures and compare to what was done last week and then they use that information to correctly place the needle to extract tissue for the biopsy and lab tests.

After my very scary MRI last week, I made sure they could drug me for this one. This is why we have pharmaceutical companies. 45 minutes prior to my procedure, they gave me .5 Zanex. It didn't make me giggly but I felt VERRRRRRRY relaxed and quite callllllmmmm. It was great.

The radiologist and all her technicians were fantastic. The procedure itself took about an hour. They took another MRI picture, then one with the contrast again, then they did some calculations. Then they lidocained the side of my breast and put in a marker, which was more like a needle. Another picture so they were sure it was in the right spot, then they pulled me out of the tube and did the suctioning of tissue through the needle. Then they unhooked me from the machine and cleaned me up and patched up the boob and I was done.

The hilarious thing about this time was the very relaxed state I was in. I didn't breathe fast or have my pulse race. In fact, as I lay face down over the dangling boob cavern again, the fan from the machine blew over my feet and up over my body. In my head I talked myself into that being the ocean breeze as I was laying on the white sand beach of some South Pacific island paradise. In my drug induced state, I imagined a lovely, tanned, shirtless, cabana boy bringing me fruity drinks and making sure I was perfectly comfortable. Ahhh.

No, they did not send me home with any more of that fantastic drug. Dang it.

It's a Powerful Thing

You know, when you plan for the worst case scenario or most desperate situation because you are always thinking "What if ________?" I am notorious for that. I 'm the worst "What-If-Er" you know.

Most times it comes to nothing, in which case you are prepared nonetheless, and life goes on just peachy-keen. Once in a while it is more than nothing, but is usually not too big a deal.

Still in the back of my head, at least, I am always planning for the "What If_______?" scenario.

This morning I had an MRI done on my left breast. I am still wondering how they can image just the one, but I didn't think to ask anyone. Maybe another time. Maybe not.

The MRI test is a little like trying to ride a sausage making machine for fun. This morning I had to lay very still, face down, with the "girls" dangling inside a vertical cave of sorts while I was wheeled backwards into a tiny tube that made all sorts of scary sounds. It was a very good thing I was face down. I don't think I am claustrophobic, but I might have become so if I had let my mind head down that path.

As I was laying very still, worrying about all the "What Ifs", my heart rate exploded and my breathing was speeding up. I was worried that I might be moving involuntarily just to stay alive in the loud sausage tube or that the "pictures" wouldn't be any good because my heart and lungs were going a mile a minute. Instead of freaking completely out, I focused my thoughts on my Heavenly Father and said a prayer--not asking that everything will be perfect, but just that I can calm down, they can get what they need from me and that I may be ready for whatever the results might be. My thoughts then turned to the words of hymns I could remember under stress.

Have you ever heard BYU's concert choir recording of "Redeemer of Israel"? They were recorded years ago with the orchestra. The music is powerful and just fills you up as you hear the crescendo of strings and percussion. The words are pretty reassuring too: "How long we have wandered as strangers in sin, and cried in the desert for Thee! Our foes have rejoiced when our sorrows they have seen, But Israel will shortly be free." Kind of makes you re-evaluate who's side you are on, doesn't it?

I ran that and other hymn lyrics through my head as I stayed as still as I could for the 40 minutes required to finish this test. I noticed as I continued "singing" the hymns in my head that my breathing slowed and my pulse returned to a normal range. I felt the calming influence of the Spirit with me--even in that cold, dark, loud, scary place.

If the Father will hear and answer my prayer for comfort so quickly and gently, I know that whatever these blasted tests finally show about the spots in my breast, I will be OK--whichever way the path takes me. Because no matter which path I end up on, He will be there too. Right beside me. And you can't get someone more powerful or loving to stay with you through all of this.