I had just started a blog post when my doctor's office called me back. This is at 530 pm.
"You need to be scheduled for a diagnostic mammogram."
I think I had that last Thursday. But I don't know, for sure, because I let the HCP take care of me. Apparently I should have ASKED what I was having my breasts squeezed for, as the radiology department hasn't told my doctor office yet. I was told it was a diagnostic mammogram--that's what the piece of paper said-and an ultra sound.
Meanwhile, Ann from the Radiology department, had called, and I had went back in for some more views via the ultra sound.
My doctor's office didn't know anything about this.
I have only had ONE FUCKING apppointment and two departments can't communicate with each other.
OK. I have learned. I will ASK and get IN WRITING whatever the hell it is they are doing to me. I don't know "for sure" whether it was a FUCKING diagnostic mammogram or a "regular" mammogram.
SO. I still KNOW NOTHING. Yes, I am shouting. I was trying not to shout at the doctor office person. She is to call the radiology department, in the morning, and clarify, DID I have the diagnostic mammogram last Thursday?
WHY IS THIS SUCH A FUSTER CLUCK???????????????????????????
Other than this situation, cleverly situated to the dinner hour and ruining my appetite for the lovely dinner my husband made, I had a good day off.
Ran my 10K around the block in 1.19.
Found a spot for my slackline and the husband helped install it.
Need to gather my clothing and gear for the 50 mile race this weekend.
At this rate, I don't see any additional testing happening this week. So another week marches on.
I know the same thing I did, on Sunday August 5. Absolutely fucking nothing.