I've never really lived under a specter before. Yesterday we drove by a billboard for OHSU Cancer care and laughed uneasily, checking to see that we were each thinking what we thought we were thinking.
It's nothing, I'm sure. It's just that it's still there, I feel it all the time now because it freaks me out and it's hard to ignore. J thinks we should do whatever it takes to relieve ourselves. Screw the food allergies theory of breastfeeding. Toby could get them anyway, or he could be fine. Then again, when you're trying to tra-la-la along believing it's nothing... who wants to start in with the procedures?
For now we'll do as we're told and come back in a month, maybe ask about that new boob-specific MRI thingamabob but if you notice me catastrophizing when there are folks with actual problems, smack me quick and take away my Jeep keys. I really do not make a good patient. My grandma's the same way- she thinks and talks about her physical state obsessively, God love her. At least she has things going on for sure.
It's probably just the lawyers. They tell their Docs to hedge bets and blanket their patients in just-checkings. Dang lawyers, every one of 'em. Sexy beasts.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I love comments, don't you?