The results that never end . . .

Back in March I had an RA appt.  They do x rays about every year on most joints. This was the day.  A few days later the office called.  Everything was fine, . . . except for a small nodule on the lower part of my right lung.  I know.  Those words raced through my mind.  I explained that I had just had a chest x ray done a couple of months earlier by my primary care Dr. for their yearly exam.  Nothing was mentioned.  But I passed along the phone number to compare the two. I didn't ever hear back from the RA Dr.  No news is good news, right?

3 months later in June, at my next R.A. appt.  I was given instructions to get another x ray done, just to be safe.  As I gave her a worried look, she said quickly, "It's probably a cyst".  After the check up I walked down the hall to the imaging place.  I knew the routine, but as I was being led in, the technician said, "Did they explain the game plan after this?"  That comment did not add to my peace and tranquility.  I calmly and fearfully said, "No."  What game plan was he talking about?  Why did he even mention it?  Shouldn't that info come from the Dr?  I felt a little superior with my short reply.  He was not going to be my friend.  And besides, I did not want to play "the game!'

The days went by.  Then I got a call from the RA office.  The x ray still showed the flaw and they wanted me to see a pulmonologist.  They would call me with recommendations.  The truth is, the longer I went without hearing from anybody from a medical office, the better I felt.  But I did hear from them and I did make an appointment . . . with a PA.  The Dr. was so busy there was no room for me for weeks, so they offered to let me see the PA.  I figured a PA was just what I needed!  If they weren't in a hurry to see me, that was a plus.  I certainly was not in a hurry to see them.

But I was full of anxiety the day of the appointment.  Anxious to get it over with.  Anxious to know more.  Anxious.  I sat in a room with elderly on oxygen, younger smoker folks, etc.  I didn't have any of their symptoms.  I tried to distract myself with my phone.  When they called for me, I was very aware of how they treated me and how clean and orderly the staff and halls were.  They put me in a room with the normal People and Better Homes magazines on the corner table.  They ask me to sit on the chair.  Yes!  The chair.  I can handle the chair; not that awful bed thing they cover with new paper for every new patient.  The PA tapped to come in.  A 40 looking man with lots of questions.  Do you smoke?  Are you short of breath?  (listening to my lungs between deep breaths)  Is there a history of this in your family? 
Every answer was a definite No, No, No.  Then he looked into my mouth and told me that I had a small airway that could limit my breathing at night.  And that would bring on a nodule?  I began to feel like I was wasting their time.  I had no symptoms.  Then he prescribed a C scan.  C scan?  I had heard of those, but when I realized it was a CAT scan, I was surprised.  A CAT scan is a real test.  They want me to have a CAT scan?!

I knew the PA wanted to see me again after the scan.  So, after vacation I turned myself in for the imaging.  Another room full of people, waiting for their names to be called.  Then another room of people in gowns, waiting.  I lucked out; I wasn't wearing anything metal, so I didn't have to change.  (I wonder if they know how much calmer it makes people if they don't have to wear those awful gowns?)  I had done my share of googling and learned that my head would be outside the tube.  Whew!  They would have had to medicate me if it was inside!  They told me it would only last 2 or 3 minutes.  I was good with that; but I think it took 4!

The PA appt. was 2 weeks ago.  This would be the make or break appointment.  I had been playing out different diagnosis's  in my mind.  What if?  What if?  What if?  I paid my $50.00 copay and had a seat with fellow worriers.  When my name was called, I followed the nurse back with my head held high, passing the same exam rooms I had before.  I sat in the chair, before she even showed me to it. I held my purse tight and waited for the PA.  The knock.  And in he came.  He was calm and a bit apologetic.  He told me that CAT scans show a lot more detail than a regular x ray.  Mine showed that the flaw was a calcium deposit.  My hands loosened their grip.  He went on to explain that there was no reason to worry.  I sat back and exhaled. I was free of concern and I didn't have to come back there unless I have breathing problems  (or take up smoking or something).  I didn't move because of the relief. Then again, he went on about the reason for the CAT scan, my results, no reason to worry, and I didn't have to come back there again.  Then again. . . He probably said those same few things to me 50 times (once for every copay dollar I had just spent; but would gladly pay again!)  It was like the song that never ends, only these were the same results that went on and on . . . After a while I just stood up and brushed myself off right in the middle of the 51st time.  Because I could tell he thought I deserved a few more minutes of patient time, which would have been another round.  Or maybe he thought it would look bad if he stepped in and right back out again. (I'm lucky.  I didn't require question and answer time, like most, apparently.)  I smiled and thanked him as I headed towards the  door, which he rushed to open before I did.

Every time I think of these months I take a deep breath.  I have taken a lot of deep breaths since March.  They feel good!  Life is good!  I have a new found reason to celebrate.