L U N A T A L K with Eva Moon

My Favorite Nipple

March 19, 2009 on 5:11 pm | Join the conversation. You know you want to. | In General Musing

Dave Barry said it best: “Probably nothing wrong” is the leading cause of health care in America today.”

I don’t like to complain. Well, OK, I do. But I am thankful for good health and good insurance. Blah blah blah. However there are certain events that toss one in the grinding maw of health care and once the jaws descend into your tender hide, you’re in for a chew until you come out the other end. So to speak.

It started in the shower. If you’re a woman, you’ve been exhorted since your teens to do a monthly breast self-exam. There may even be a little mildew-spotted card hanging from the shower head since the late 90s with the January and February dots punched out.

I gave up years ago when my doctor found a “thickening” the resulted in hours of palpitations, crushings, scannings and ultimately a doctor straddling my chest and hammering a needle into my tit. I never, ever felt what it was they were going after, even when they put my fingers on the exact spot. Eventually they decided everything was fine. Tell that to my breast.

So if my fingers are blind to the little buggers, why bother?

This one was no challenge though. A tiny lentil of a bump, but just below the skin and just north of the left nip. My favorite one! No! I couldn’t miss it. I could see it in the mirror from across the room. I had been vaguely aware of it for a few days but now I poked and prodded. Then I took the step that would seal my passage through the bowels of the system. I called the doctor.

I love my doctor. She’s reasonable, patient and even listens to my crazy ideas. But she’s trapped by the same molars. Grind grind grind. She confessed to me that in her heart of hearts she felt there was probably nothing wrong. Grind grind grind. In my heart of hearts I also felt there was probably nothing wrong. But she couldn’t say that officially. Officially, I had endure health care.

I was offered a biopsy, as if it was the special on today’s menu.

No thank you. I’m not that hungry. I’ll just have the mammogram salad please.

Would you like a little fresh ultrasound with it?

Orders were sent. Grind grind. Appoinments scheduled. Tit pancaked, buttered and syruped. And… there was nothing wrong. Just a little cyst. They come, they go.

ptoo! I pop back out into the world, precisely the same as when I went in. Except without that little nagging what if.

I’d be very much relieved if this reminded you to check. There’s probably nothing wrong. But you never know.

And please don’t try to tell me you don’t have a favorite nipple! Likely story.