Another Day, Another Pink Gown

Had my annual mammogram today. Plus a breast sonogram for good measure. And a sonogram of my left axilla, where everything feels so funky that I'm not sure I could tell the difference between run-of-the-mill scar tissue and a run-for-the hills lump.

The technician couldn't understand why I wanted a sonogram of, basically, my armpit.

"If you insist," she said, the way you talk to a crazy person after you've given up on logic and reason.

"I insist," I said, the way you talk to someone who has not recently found a cancerous mass in her armpit.

I just want to know what's normal, now, for me. Because last December, I had every reason to think that the lump I felt was nothing more than scar tissue. And right now, I have a whole lot more scar tissue than I did back then.

So it's a relief to know that all is well, at least as of today. That's one fringe benefit of being a cancer veteran—the radiologists are always very quick to tell you good news.