More words I like to repeat to myself

expiry
prevaricate
hinterland

Benign

Friends,

Your opinion of me may vary, but doctors agree: I am benign. (My boss replied, "you most certainly are not!" But you get the idea.) Or, if you're a stickler, the blobs and lumps in my neck are benign.

So, I'm looking at smooth sailing through the holidays. Big sigh of relief. I'll go back to the doctor in six months for another round of sticking and measuring, and then annual monitoring, but it will be with much less fear and anticipation.

One of the best things about my family is that they're always good for a celebration. So, I'll be toasting to my, our, your health tonight.

An okay experience overall

So, my Friday morning needle-poking wasn't terrible. It helped a lot that my doctor is as wonderful as everyone says he is. He was very encouraging and repeated the stats I've read over and over to comfort myself--that the chances are only 1 in 20 that I'll have a malignant nodule.

The visit actually made me realize that despite this frightening experience I am very healthy overall. As a first-time patient I filled out a long questionnaire. Despite my colorful family history, I had no symptoms of any of the garden-variety illnesses. Felt good to write "N/A" next to everything.

And I know I sound like a goofy new-ager when I start talking about yoga, but it really helped me surf the five needle-stickings in my neck--a couple in a sensitive cyst. They numb your skin, but you feel some of what's going on under the surface. The doctor commented several times that I seemed extremely relaxed. In yoga, you learn to pay attention to your pain/comfort level without judging it (within reason, of course).

Lessons in perspective

Well, since this blog has taken a turn for the dark side, I might as well continue. But there is a silver lining.

I got my ultrasound results in the mail last night. I should have followed my first instinct and not read them. But I did, and the words were big and scary--"hyperechoic solid mass with vascularity and no defined capsule; 7 mm x 8 mm x 9 mm."

My perspective: I am going to die from this. It's huge! It's eating my neck!

My surgeon friend's perspective: That's really small, and it's probably nothing. If they do have to take it out, the procedure is straightforward. You're going to be fine.

The internet's perspective: Hyperechoic solid nodules are usually benign (96%).

Repeat after me...

I admitted to my coworkers yesterday that sometimes there's a word that I repeat to myself over and over, and it makes me happy. Guess that came off a bit eccentric. But it's just like getting a song stuck in your head, only it's a single word. I'm trying to keep a list of them, though they're hard to remember after the momentary little obsession has passed.

Here are a few:

clementine
jojoba
salamat po
desafortunadamente
metastasis (this one doesn't make me happy)

More notes from exam week

Another gem from my library colleagues:

Student who brought not only pillows/blankets into the library, but also a coffeemaker, which she plugged into the wall in the stacks. Why didn't I ever think of that?

Strange days

It's that special time of year -- fall semester exams. As a staff member, I am somewhat removed from the whole drama until I step out of my office. All our student workers have disappeared and show up only in 10-minute intervals, bleary-eyed, unshowered and apologetic (or not) about printing out their 20-page papers on our printers.

I'm never sure why they do that. Maybe it's the lines in the computer lab, but don't most of these kids have their own printers? Surely in this day and age it's not because they have slow dot-matrix or inkjet printers that require you budget an extra 45 minutes before the essay deadline. I remember many a nail-biting episode like that when I was in college. A laser printer would have been a godsend.

My library colleagues have had some interesting sightings in the last week:

1) Student who slept from approx. 6 am to 5:30 pm (maybe longer -- these were just the hours staff saw him) with comforter and pillow on a couch in the library. Staff did occasionally monitor him to make sure he wasn't dead.

2) Study aids left in a conference room by unknown student: paper, books, laptop and spray-bottle of Febreeze. Apparently, hygiene had fallen by the wayside.

As someone who sometimes takes items to the dry-cleaners only to turn around and put them in the washing machine as soon as I bring them home, I am disturbed greatly by #2. There's no substitute for soap and water.

Oh well. It'll all be over soon. More and more students conspire these days to finish exams early, so I've already seen some relieved faces. The parking lot is starting to empty out.

In another week, I'll be visiting an endocrinologist to find out what the hell is up with my thyroid. The ultrasound revealed the cyst I can feel and another "mass" on the opposite side that I can't feel. I've already poked at my neck, and nothing. This is why the ultrasound tech took so many pictures of the area far away from the cyst. THIS is why I had the sinking feeling after the ultrasound. At least my intuition was right.

So, they'll be sticking needles in my neck and other untold joys. The needles aren't a huge bother, really. It's more the thought of something growing inside me that shouldn't be there. Apparently, it's a common reaction when you first learn of a health problem to feel betrayed by your body. I had heard it said before, but I didn't really understand.

Many young women know the feeling of disliking, even hating, their bodies because of the way they look. It's a different hatred, though, when you feel let down. Sure, I don't like some of my lumps and dimples, but now my body is actually trying to hurt me. How do you work with that? How do you accept that insult graciously?

And I might as well admit, I don't relish the thought of surgery and the accompanying scars. I know there could be much, much worse. What can I say? I'm a little vain.

A lollipop would have helped

I have a nodule on my thyroid, so this morning I went to get an ultrasound of it. I should back up to explain I found it a couple of weeks ago -- a tender lump in my throat that has since just become a painless lump in my throat. I had a gyn appointment anyway last Friday, so after consulting the interWeb and learning that I most likely don't have cancer, I waited to talk to her. She confirmed that it's incredibly common, rarely cancer and not worth freaking out about it.

So, I reported for my ultrasound bright and early at 8 am this morning. I was chipper and ready to get it over with. My mother had had the same sort of deal a few years ago, so I was more or less prepared. Getting an ultrasound is no big deal.

The part I wasn't prepared for was the whole bedside manner where the technician is completely neutral and offers you no reassurance whatsoever that you don't have something horribly wrong with you. Don't get me wrong--she was completely pleasant, but she did nothing to allay the anxiety written all over my face. If anything, her reactions made me more nervous.

It makes me wonder who decided that adult patients should be treated any different than children when it comes to comforting them. Remember how, when you were a kid, you got to pick out a lollipop or a little goofy plastic toy from the treasure chest after your doctor's visit? Just because adults are responsible for their own health decisions doesn't mean they're any less scared.

There are so many people who know something is wrong with them, but they refuse to go to the doctor because of fear. So, they die needlessly of cancer, heart disease or many other treatable conditions. I certainly don't have the answers to our complex health care system, but it seems the experience could be made a bit more humane.

I know sugar is now considered the devil, but I could have gone for a lollipop if nothing else. My favorite were the giant Life Savers with the looped paper handle. Remember those?