Mammograms & Radiology
My daughter is 19 years old. She is beautiful. So confident and sure of what is right and what is wrong. It wasn't always like this though. Not so long ago, every day was a battle for her. It didn't matter how hard she worked, or how hard she reached, where school was concerned, it was a losing battle.
Without getting to into the details, there came a day when I said "Enough!" It just didn't seem that a really bright girl who wanted to succeed simply wasn't. The local high school clearly wasn't the right place. We visited the Cambridge School of Weston, a local day/boarding private school. Lauren liked it and applied three months late. She was accepted, and then she did a really brave thing. She decided to repeat her junior year of high school.
Not every 17-year old would do this. In fact, most wouldn't. She didn't have to, but she did.
Lauren loved the Cambridge School in spite of, or because of, its quirks. She was in arts heaven. Though I wish she had spent more of her arts hours playing the viola, theatre and the visual arts won. However, the two years that she was at CSW I tried to participate in some of the musical events. One, this was a donation to the school, and two, I could entice her to play the viola if I was playing too.
I don't know yet if I will give her this blog URL, but I think she enjoyed it when her Dad and I took part in concerts at the school. In fact, she might even be proud. The final concert of her senior year had one rehearsal. Friday, June 3 starting at 2:30. See the conflict yet?
My husband and I headed to the hospital for the mammogram with our instruments in the car. My research indicated that I needed a half hour at the hospital. I emailed the conductor that I would be a few moments late.
All the x-ray patients check in at a long counter in a big open room. I gave my name and was told that I could go in 'over there.' The mammogram waiting room is segragated and has its own entrance. I left my husband in the larger waiting room and headed in. At 1:30, almost on the dot, my name was called, and I headed into the mammography room. They have digital machines so they can see the image immediately. This reduces [I was told] the need to recall people at a later date. I was given the standard four-shots and sent back to the waiting room. Ten minutes later, I was called back. They wanted more shots of that offending breast. I won't go into details, but this set of shots was very different. And back to the waiting room.
I was then told to dress and exit through a different room. The radiologist would talk with me. The radiologist, Valerie Z-F, was someone I would love to meet outside of a hospital. Warm eyes, good listening skills. She introduced me to the resident. As she began to talk, I found myself looking around the room. Dr. Valerie asked me not to since there might be information about other patients visible. "I am not looking at the room," I responded. "I am just not looking at you."
I had seen her eyes as she began telling me what was on the mammogram. I knew what she was seeing. She wasn't a very good liar.
They requested that I stay for an ultrasound, and I refused. If I didn't arrive at the rehearsal, Lauren would need [or demand] an explanation. I resolved right at that moment, that my daughter and my mother were going to have a joyful graduation weekend. There hasn't been enough joy in their lives, and I wasn't going to ruin it.
In the car, I told my husband that indeed, there was a tumor. That there would be more tests. From the car, I called all the appropriate offices to set up more appointments for Wednesday. I think I sighed, I might have even wept, but we made it to the rehearsal at 2:45. The kids hadn't finished tuning yet.
Without getting to into the details, there came a day when I said "Enough!" It just didn't seem that a really bright girl who wanted to succeed simply wasn't. The local high school clearly wasn't the right place. We visited the Cambridge School of Weston, a local day/boarding private school. Lauren liked it and applied three months late. She was accepted, and then she did a really brave thing. She decided to repeat her junior year of high school.
Not every 17-year old would do this. In fact, most wouldn't. She didn't have to, but she did.
Lauren loved the Cambridge School in spite of, or because of, its quirks. She was in arts heaven. Though I wish she had spent more of her arts hours playing the viola, theatre and the visual arts won. However, the two years that she was at CSW I tried to participate in some of the musical events. One, this was a donation to the school, and two, I could entice her to play the viola if I was playing too.
I don't know yet if I will give her this blog URL, but I think she enjoyed it when her Dad and I took part in concerts at the school. In fact, she might even be proud. The final concert of her senior year had one rehearsal. Friday, June 3 starting at 2:30. See the conflict yet?
My husband and I headed to the hospital for the mammogram with our instruments in the car. My research indicated that I needed a half hour at the hospital. I emailed the conductor that I would be a few moments late.
All the x-ray patients check in at a long counter in a big open room. I gave my name and was told that I could go in 'over there.' The mammogram waiting room is segragated and has its own entrance. I left my husband in the larger waiting room and headed in. At 1:30, almost on the dot, my name was called, and I headed into the mammography room. They have digital machines so they can see the image immediately. This reduces [I was told] the need to recall people at a later date. I was given the standard four-shots and sent back to the waiting room. Ten minutes later, I was called back. They wanted more shots of that offending breast. I won't go into details, but this set of shots was very different. And back to the waiting room.
I was then told to dress and exit through a different room. The radiologist would talk with me. The radiologist, Valerie Z-F, was someone I would love to meet outside of a hospital. Warm eyes, good listening skills. She introduced me to the resident. As she began to talk, I found myself looking around the room. Dr. Valerie asked me not to since there might be information about other patients visible. "I am not looking at the room," I responded. "I am just not looking at you."
I had seen her eyes as she began telling me what was on the mammogram. I knew what she was seeing. She wasn't a very good liar.
They requested that I stay for an ultrasound, and I refused. If I didn't arrive at the rehearsal, Lauren would need [or demand] an explanation. I resolved right at that moment, that my daughter and my mother were going to have a joyful graduation weekend. There hasn't been enough joy in their lives, and I wasn't going to ruin it.
In the car, I told my husband that indeed, there was a tumor. That there would be more tests. From the car, I called all the appropriate offices to set up more appointments for Wednesday. I think I sighed, I might have even wept, but we made it to the rehearsal at 2:45. The kids hadn't finished tuning yet.
posted by *susan* at
5:59 PM
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