Just returned from the ultrasound that my oncologist wanted to get to check the size of the lump. This would determine whether I would continue with the same chemo cocktail or stop chemo altogether if the lump was growing. Then they would have whipped me into surgery instead.
The radiologist had better bedside manner than the chief radiologist I had previously. The guy who had completely panicked when I started weeping whilst half naked. He’s not a bad person, just lacking in the whole talking/listening/keeping calm thang. Or perhaps the whole boobs and tears combo was just too confusing. ; p
Anyhoo, this kind lady even let me take a picture of my evil offspring and answered my myriad questions without consternation or befuddlement. On the spot she confirmed the lump wasn’t growing but couldn’t tell me straight away if she thought it had shrunk. I commented that I got the impression that interpreting these scans was more an art than a science to which she snorted in an agreeing fashion.
I got home to an answer phone message saying the chemo will go ahead as planned but no info on if they think it’s shrunk. They clearly didn’t get the hint that me wanting to photograph the scan was a sign that perhaps I would like LOTS of information. I’ll just take it as a positive for now and see if I can wheedle any more out of the hospital tomorrow.
I welcome humourous interpretations or deep psychological ones of the shape of the tumour. I’m thinking fat wolf..