Good News!

The radiologist called me today and let me know that Monday's biopsy was benign. He said the quality of the samples was excellent, and he is "confident that it is not cancer." 

The site has been marked and will be followed closely on future mammograms.

Thank the Lord! Thank you, everyone, for your love and prayers. 

My Long Lost Brother

A week or two ago, I took leftover spaghetti sauce to work for lunch. I had no noodles left because I usually only make enough for a single meal; the gluten-free noodles don't hold up very well in the refrigerator. Briefly, I contemplated taking the dry noodles and a small pot to cook them in on the full-sized stove in the break room. I'd never seen anyone cooking anything on that stove, only reheating meals in the five microwave ovens. To my knowledge, I'm the only one who uses the toaster/convection oven (because I don't trust microwave radiation).

I decided the stove was probably there for potluck lunches, and if anyone saw me cooking on it, they'd think I was weird. Had I known everyone better, I wouldn't have cared what they thought. Indeed, at my previous office job, I had occasionally cooked my dinner in a slow cooker under my desk. My coworkers had laughed at my eccentricity and ribbed me mercilessly, but I didn't mind. No one was laughing when the tempting aromas wafted through our quad of cubes and into the surrounding ones. One after another, my coworkers commented on how amazing it smelled. "Yep!" I agreed smugly. "Nope," I replied when they asked for a taste.

After chuckling over those fond memories, I decided I'd better make my noodles on my own stove while I cooked oatmeal for my breakfast. For most of my four years at this job, I've been fully remote, and now I only go to the office on Mondays and Fridays. Therefore, very few people in the office know anything about me, let alone about all of my quirks. I don't know why it should seem weird to cook at work, but I'm too conventional to rock the boat. Today, however, I learned that some people dare to defy cooking conventions. 

Blessing in Their Hands

The breast biopsy that I wrote about in my last post had to be postponed due to a problem with insurance approval. I didn't find out about it until nearly 5:00 last Monday, on the night before the scheduled procedure. I spent Tuesday morning on the phone with the doctor's office and the hospital trying to cut through the red tape. The hospital scheduler tried from her end as well, but we had to admit defeat about 45 minutes before my appointment time. 

At first, the scheduler said I'd have to wait until December 21 for the next available appointment, which put my total waiting time at 7 weeks from the date of my repeat mammogram. While we were on the phone, though, an opening came up for yesterday, December 4. 

I arrived at the hospital at 11:58, two whole minutes early, only to find a sign on the door stating that the staff were off for lunch until 12:45. Mystified, I sat down in the hospital lobby and laboriously logged in to the patient portal on my ailing phone. It turns out that I'd read the instructions incorrectly, and I was actually supposed to arrive at 12:45. At first I was aggravated with myself, but then I decided to go buy some Tylenol, which I would need after the procedure. 

Then I spent a relaxing 20 minutes in the car listening to an audiobook, only to realize that I'd gotten confused again, and now I was late!

I arrived at the desk, breathless and apologetic, at 12:52. The receptionist was very gracious, but I felt pretty frazzled. In the waiting room, I settled myself with some deep breathing and silent prayer.