Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Technicolor Isn't Just A Dreamcoat

Chapter II

I was scheduled to a lab that did ultrasounds in color. That in itself was pretty cool. I mean, who doesn't want to see their innards lit up on a TV screen? In full-blown technicolor, no less.

Hubbie came with me and was as supportive as one can be when your twenty seven year-old wife is having scans for masses in her abdomen. We were both stressed out and scared. My enduring all the poking and prodding and him standing by helpless. Not good for either psyche.

Technicolor LabCoat gave me the ultrasound. And it was incredible to look at. All the reds and oranges and blues and greens. I didn't even have to smoke anything for this show.

We had been forewarned. Red = Bad. Very, very bad. Red meant bloodflow, and bloodflow meant tumor.

My result? A lovely dark brown color. No blood flow. No tumor.

Relief lasted the span of my exhale.

If not a tumor...what?

Chocolate cyst. That's when I first heard the term. Damn you, Dr. Sampson. Only a man would take something so wonderful as chocolate and apply it to a medical condition.

Technicolor LabCoat explained to us in layman's terms that chocolate cysts were cysts filled with old blood. And he gave us a demonstration.

Watch this! he motioned to the monitor.

Distracted, we looked up.

Wham! Up shoved the vaginal transducer against my cervix. We watched the image of my abdomen on the TV screen. The fluid in the cysts began to swirl in a lazy circle.

Cool! we said.

Wham! Wham!

Seriously, dude. We get what's happening. I'm not a pinball machine so lay off the fucking flipper.

We left the office in good spirits. A tad sore, but we felt a spring in our step and a lightening of our mood. A nice contrast to the semi-desperation we had felt the weeks prior to this visit.

We had determined that I didn't have cancer. That my condition was not only treatable but likely something that would solve itself.

How naive we were.


KJ said...

Oh my god. I'm reading this thinking what a relief, and then you spring that "naive" crap. hmph. I'll be looking for the rest of this story!

holly* said...

yea! why'de you have to leave it like that? i held my breath that whole post. then i breathed. then i gasped.

RiverPoet said...

I'm with Kat. I was feeling some relief until you threw in the "naive" crap!

This is a great series. I know it turns out okay, but geez, the ride must have been terrifying!

Peace - D

Anonymous said...

This is some good shit. I hope you are not on holiday for too long so we can read the rest!

Coal Miner's Granddaughter said...

That's how I felt when I left the office with a PCOS diagnosis. "Oh yeah! We know what it is! We're gonna kick its ass and be pregnant by the end of the year. Woo hoo!" Oh, how the naive fall so quickly...

Irrational Dad said...


Kelly said...

I didn't know this part of your story. I read something once on your blog about an operation, but I assumed it was the thing they do when your PAP comes back abnormal. I had no idea.

I'm so sorry you've had to deal with all this crap. I hope to hear in your next post that the prognosis is good!

Patois42 said...

Yeah, Kat hit my reaction right on. Wow, like I said the other day, I know your life has much joy and happiness now. I hope to learn that you attained it quickly.

Gypsy said...

One should never attach the word chocolate to a medical procedure, unless it's "chocolate IV."