So the mammogram, it was a piece of cake. Even with the progesterone cream enhance soreness, I barely felt anything. The only time there was any "discomfort" was when the tech was getting the side view of my left boob. It's my biggest of the two so that's probably why. Anyway, it was over in less than 10 minutes. I can't believe I held off getting this done so damn long. I'm just going to venture a guess that all those horror stories come from women who don't have much tissue up top. Those of us who are naturally, or even artificially, blessed with huge knockers have an easier time. Either that or I have a much higher pain tolerance than others. So that's the story to the mammogram. Hopefully, they don't find anything.
The saga on G's mole removal continues. . . I should probably make it a separate post but what they hey.
I took G to Dr. C's office (dermatologist) yesterday afternoon for the follow up appointment on the mole removal of her left forearm. After waiting an hour past the appointment time, we get called to go into a exam room. Of course, G gets called by the masculine version of her name. This is a huge pet peeve of mine but it seems like everyone does it so why correct it huh? So anyway, Dr. C comes in and just like I figured, everything was cool as far as the pathology results. But then came the dreaded words, "The 2 on the palm of her left hand need to come off." G got the deer in the headlights look again and all the big talk I got from her on the way to the appointment that getting moles removed were no big deal was immediately forgotten. She started whimpering that she didn't want it done. Dr. C was so good about it, gently explaining to her that we (me and him) knew she didn't want it done but that moles on palms of hands don't belong there and the longer we waited, the bigger they'd get, and the more he'd have to cut out, thereby making her hand even more sore.
So she finally submits to it and she lays down to get into a comfortable position. I get into position to hold her free hand and pat her head while she cried and screamed during the anesthetic injection. I kept it together for that but then like a dang fool, looked at her hand after he cut the offending spots out. Wrong idea! I started sweating like a pig, got really nauseous, and thought I was going to pass out. I was trying to do the whole breath in through my nose, out through my mouth while counting to 10 in my head to get those sensations to pass but it wasn't working. So I had to speak up about it before I embarrassed myself even further by keeling over. Dr. C told me to slowly drop to the ground and sit down until I got my bearings. I did that for a couple minutes and then slowly got up when I knew he was done working on her hand. He then told me to go sit down in the chair. I guess he thought I still looked pretty pale because next thing I knew he was dabbing my forehead with rubbing alcohol to cool me off and then started fanning me with a magazine. I'm telling you, when it comes to wounds or deep cuts on my kid I just can't handle it, but if I see it on anybody else I am cool as a cucumber. Today, I ended up having to pick her up 45 minutes after I dropped her off at school. The antibiotic didn't settle well in her stomach and she was feeling like she was going to throw up. She was much better after she got some real food in her. But today was a day of hookie from school for her and work for me.
Geez, I can't make any story short, can I?