I Think I'm Gonna Like it Here
Good news my people--I got a biopsy this week from a fabulous doctor and it came out CLEAN as a WHISTLE. I have to get another one in a couple of weeks just to make sure, but oh, my friends I am one RELIEVED woman.
I have to tell you that I felt that every horrible or frustrating experience I've had throughout this 6 week ordeal seemed to have led me to this doctor's office. I found him randomly, which has been par for the course. My insurance directory seems to be made up of people who, while they are indeed doctors, they don't seem to have ANY affiliation with my own insurance. I learned this when I was trying to get a girl-part doctor and I went through THIRTEEN names, and NONE of them carried my insurance and over half of them said they'd never even heard of it. I found my current doctor through a co-worker. So you can imagine the wonderful feeling I had when my doctor told me, "Go find breast surgeon." It was like throwing me into the ABYSS. Fortunately, while the first doctor I called didn't take my insurance someone in their office did--and that's how I ended up into the sweet offices of this particular office.
I should have known I was in the right place when I found the waiting room adorned with original Annie Leibovitz photographs. (Aesthetically pleasing? Oh, I think I am going to like it here.) Then Wendy, the Physician's Assistant immediately did the unthinkable...she cracked a joke. A joke! I laughed! I felt better! We talked about migraines and the beauty of zomieg and how it has SAVED OUR LIVES. I actually BONDED with a medical professional. Then she continued on and announced to me that the radiology hospital had given me SOMEBODY ELSE'S films and medical records! The last name was Pierre, but it weren't me and this was not only a totally big pain in the ass, but highly problematic for both the radiology department and Jane Doe Pierre. Her medical records were in the hand's of STRANGERS. Wendy called the radiology hospital and they proceeded to try to blame me, as if I was the one who packaged the information and then handed it to myself, the wrong Pierre. Luckily, my new best friend stood up for me and told them to SUCK IT and fax the records over.
Then, as if they just wanted to totally BLOW MY MIND, they sent Graham into the medical room to wait with me while they got my records. When Wendy returned, she then proceeded to EXPLAIN IN DETAIL everything in the records TO ME, the patient (what are they? WHACK JOBS?). She also said that my initial sonogram said that it was cyst, and that there was no reason for an MRI whatsoever. She believed that the MRI was purely for their own financial gain, which is something I had been suspecting.
My doctor looked like Garrison Keillor and while he didn't have the soft smoky voice of Keillor, was so kind and helpful, I wanted to EASE into his voice like a BIG COMFY chair. We did another sonogram, where again the crazy hijinks continued when they SHOWED me the sonogram and pointed out to both me and Graham what my actual cyst looked like. Graham and I kept looking over at each other with these crazy faces that said, "Look! These people are medical professionals and they're actually helpful, nice and informative! Is this just CRAZY TOWN?"
I got a biopsy that I closed my eyes for, but Graham has yet to recover from the image of the needle and me. It hardly hurt at all for me, but he still looks GREEN when he mentions it and keeps asking, "Have you RECOVERED? Are you OKAY down there?" I respond to him by saying, "I'm fine--what about YOU?"
When we were done they continued to floor me by telling me that they would have results by tomorrow and they would call me IMMEDIATELY. And then to prove that they obviously had not been hanging around the usual crowds of doctors, they did call me.
So here I am, about 80% done with this and I am so happy and relieved and feel free and light in a way that I haven't felt in two months. Thank you all for your notes and cards and stories. They have kept me afloat. And to my amazing friends and family, who rose up to the occasion: My hands, my hands, my hands to you.
I have to tell you that I felt that every horrible or frustrating experience I've had throughout this 6 week ordeal seemed to have led me to this doctor's office. I found him randomly, which has been par for the course. My insurance directory seems to be made up of people who, while they are indeed doctors, they don't seem to have ANY affiliation with my own insurance. I learned this when I was trying to get a girl-part doctor and I went through THIRTEEN names, and NONE of them carried my insurance and over half of them said they'd never even heard of it. I found my current doctor through a co-worker. So you can imagine the wonderful feeling I had when my doctor told me, "Go find breast surgeon." It was like throwing me into the ABYSS. Fortunately, while the first doctor I called didn't take my insurance someone in their office did--and that's how I ended up into the sweet offices of this particular office.
I should have known I was in the right place when I found the waiting room adorned with original Annie Leibovitz photographs. (Aesthetically pleasing? Oh, I think I am going to like it here.) Then Wendy, the Physician's Assistant immediately did the unthinkable...she cracked a joke. A joke! I laughed! I felt better! We talked about migraines and the beauty of zomieg and how it has SAVED OUR LIVES. I actually BONDED with a medical professional. Then she continued on and announced to me that the radiology hospital had given me SOMEBODY ELSE'S films and medical records! The last name was Pierre, but it weren't me and this was not only a totally big pain in the ass, but highly problematic for both the radiology department and Jane Doe Pierre. Her medical records were in the hand's of STRANGERS. Wendy called the radiology hospital and they proceeded to try to blame me, as if I was the one who packaged the information and then handed it to myself, the wrong Pierre. Luckily, my new best friend stood up for me and told them to SUCK IT and fax the records over.
Then, as if they just wanted to totally BLOW MY MIND, they sent Graham into the medical room to wait with me while they got my records. When Wendy returned, she then proceeded to EXPLAIN IN DETAIL everything in the records TO ME, the patient (what are they? WHACK JOBS?). She also said that my initial sonogram said that it was cyst, and that there was no reason for an MRI whatsoever. She believed that the MRI was purely for their own financial gain, which is something I had been suspecting.
My doctor looked like Garrison Keillor and while he didn't have the soft smoky voice of Keillor, was so kind and helpful, I wanted to EASE into his voice like a BIG COMFY chair. We did another sonogram, where again the crazy hijinks continued when they SHOWED me the sonogram and pointed out to both me and Graham what my actual cyst looked like. Graham and I kept looking over at each other with these crazy faces that said, "Look! These people are medical professionals and they're actually helpful, nice and informative! Is this just CRAZY TOWN?"
I got a biopsy that I closed my eyes for, but Graham has yet to recover from the image of the needle and me. It hardly hurt at all for me, but he still looks GREEN when he mentions it and keeps asking, "Have you RECOVERED? Are you OKAY down there?" I respond to him by saying, "I'm fine--what about YOU?"
When we were done they continued to floor me by telling me that they would have results by tomorrow and they would call me IMMEDIATELY. And then to prove that they obviously had not been hanging around the usual crowds of doctors, they did call me.
So here I am, about 80% done with this and I am so happy and relieved and feel free and light in a way that I haven't felt in two months. Thank you all for your notes and cards and stories. They have kept me afloat. And to my amazing friends and family, who rose up to the occasion: My hands, my hands, my hands to you.
posted by Summer Pierre at
1:52 PM
<< Home