Update on the Boob

Thanks to all my supportive friends, sending emails with subject headings such as "How is Your Boob?" and "How Goes The Breast Situation?" Let's hope the government censors are asleep at the wheel . . .

After a week of Motrinizing, the pain is the same: same sharp, stabbing pain that courses through my upper body whenever I inadvertently hit myself in the chest; same chronic dull ache that persists when my boob is not being bothered.

So, Doc is sending me for an ultrasound. My Friday afternoon will be spent with some cold goopy gel, an impersonal technician ("Don't worry, she's female," they tell me -- as if I CARE at this point), a radiological print-out that I won't be able to understand, and insurance paperwork to try to force my provider to pay for the whole darn thing.

Now I'm getting a little . . . weirded out. It's one thing to feel a little pang and think "Oh, I suffered a minor muscle tear." It's one thing to have your doctor say she feels nothing too unusual and that you probably shouldn't worry. It's one thing to think that the dull persistent ache is a sign of healing. It's a completely different thing to be going in for an ultrasound, the "next step," Doc says. I can't help the thoughts from creeping in . . . "What if they find something? What if they find something bad? What do I do then? What is the next next step?" Oy.