Not Without a Fight . . . Part 3


So I go.  Perfectly lovely day.  I head off to Presbyterian Hospital of Dallas, also known as Texas Health Resources.  I chose Presbyterian Dallas for many reasons.

1 I wanted a hospital that could handle anything.  Well funded, means well staffed, means well educated, means latest and greatest technology, treatment, facilities and equipment.  I am not saying other hospitals don't have the same, that is why I went there.

2 It was close.  IF they found something, my people could get there quick.  IF I was to have multiple Dr.s visits I needed it to be close. IF i was going to have a hospital stay I wanted it to be in the area of our son's schools, family, work and home.

3 I had both of our sweet baby boys at Presbyterian Dallas. I was familiar with the hospital.  Our family was familiar with it.  I wanted some place easy and familiar IF we were going down this road.

So, I go.  I am nervous.  My voice is running a little high, I was a little jittery.  Despite me not really wanting to hear any bad news I was speeding to this appointment.

The nurses and admin help were great.  I signed probably 10 forms, my husband being a litigator says sign away, all contracts can be broken.  I say that is why I didn't read the forms,  it was probably more of I cannot read them, I am too freaking nervous.  

I was escorted back.  I got the change here, put your things there, sit over yonder speech.  I remove my top and bra only to TRY to put these boobies in a tiny, made for a child cover up!  Who makes these wraps, children? All I can tell you is boobs this big don't fit!  Thankfully, in my prepared for anything state I had a wrap.  So tiny cover up and wrap I am ready to go, sitting in the waiting room of other women in tiny cover ups.  I am telling you some needed a wrap!

They call my name, I grab my stuff, and I head back.  I am escorted to a room, asked my name, social security number, relevant medical history.  I was asked to stand at this machine, feet forward, raise your right arm, hold here, chin back, hold your breath.  It was NOTHING like others have described.  It didn't hurt, it wasn't painful, and it was quick!  I was in and out in about 45 mins! I cannot get my children dressed and out the door in 45 mins much less a Dr.s appt.  I am off about my day!

Jitters are gone.  Nervous gone and seriously way over rated. Voice was back to normal and speeding under control.

I didn't really think anything about it after that.  There were children to deal with, husband traveling to LA for a law suit.  We were remodeling our home.

Approximately 3 days later I got some mail from Presbyterian Hospital of Dallas.  It was one of those pieces that is stuck together - you have to break the perforation and tear away - three times.  I opened it.  It said the scans were inconclusive and asked me to come back in for more testing.  I tossed it on the glass table in the entry and went on with life.  When my husband got home and was going through he mail he read it.  His response was a bit different than mine.  "Did you see this?"  "What does this mean?"  "Have you talked to your Dr.?"  "Do you have another appointment?"  All justifiable questions, but none that I had considered.

NOW I was scared.  I was able to get an appointment.when I called that same afternoon I received my  results.  They were "working me in." . . . more nervous.  They were taking special effort to have me be seen quickly - FYI not a good sign!  I read it again.  It said I needed to come back for further testing.  My life flashed before my eyes.  I cannot leave these children and my husband - they need me!

I schedule for a couple of days later. I act as if nothing has gone on - moving forward!  I move through the days as a zombie.  I could respond, in a very simple manner.  My every thought is consumed with "What if they find something", "What are we going to do", "What will my family do" and so on. . . I ran through the Hows . . .  and Whys . . .

My husband was scheduled for settlement negotiations via the phone so he thought he would take the calls from home.  I tell him I am fine, all will be OK - probably just some nurse messed it up. I said I will get Jake after school and then be back to go out to lunch.

Same routine at the hospital, but I am more quiet this time around. I did bring another wrap, not letting these boobies pop out!  I am escorted back, but to a different room.  They want to do a Level 2 sonogram.  I think that is fancy talk for a more expensive test. 

The room is semi dark, all but one light coming from above the door.  I lay down, open my mini cover-up.  The tech applies a gel, very similar process as having a sonogram while pregnant but she is messing with my boob.  She moves the wand, pushes some buttons.  Moves it some more, more buttons.  The tech says, hold here.  I will be right back.  Not a good sign.  Tears start rolling down my cheeks into my ears.  Minutes later a physician comes in.  He looks at the scans.  He moves the wand, pushes buttons.  He does some more looking.  He put the wand down, turns to face me and say "we found something on your scan."

continued tomorrow . . .