Tomorrow, will be the one year anniversary of the start of a very bad year. I can only hope that by the second anniversary, it will have all become such an insignificant memory as not be be noted.
On February 17th, I had my yearly mammogram. Since my mother was only 39 when breast cancer killed her (my sister and I were teenagers at the time), I've been having tender parts of my body painfully squished for picture taking, since I've been 25. Every year, I get a pass for another 12 months. As a result, it had all gotten very routine. Last year was anything but.
First, when I called to make the appointment, I was told that my long term ob/gyn had just and very suddenly retired, due to her own health problems. So I was without a doctor. I made the mammo appointment and went through with the whole event and figured that I would be in and out in short order. I was, sort of.
As I was waiting to be dismissed, the technician came into the dressing room and told me that there was "something on the pictures." Of course, the radiologist had just left for lunch and there was no one else there to read them. I needed to have additional pictures taken, but the technician had no time available in her schedule that day, I "should go to the scheduling desk and make another appointment." I was told at the scheduling desk that the next available appointment wasn't for another 10 days. Since I was in a bit of a fog, and had no one there to speak up for me, I took the appointment. I still needed to find another doctor.
Anyway, to cut a very long story short, between February 17th, and June 6th (which is also my birthday) I had an appointment with a doctor, or a radiologist, or had a mammogram, or an ultrasound or an MRI every 10 days. Because this perfectly concided with the rebuilding of the show that DH worked on, I went to all of these appointments alone. On the 6th, I was cleared of cancer (and very well mapped!). Anomolies, but now the doctors know of them. hooray.
And then, the next day, June 7th, I got a called from a hospital emergancy room in the city. My husband had been taken there, unconscious. A grand mal seizure. Unprecedented in DH's life. Overnight in one hospital. A week in another for testing. Specialists and medicines with side effects. (was I there for him? need you ask?)
As I said, not a good anniversary.
Words for Wednesday
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