Last week, I got an unpleasant letter in the mail, stating the results of a mammogram I had were enigmatic. Today I went back for more testing. There was some smooshing and some ultrasounding, and it all went on for several hours, and then in the end the doctor came in and was like: "You're fine." Never has an anti-climactic ending been so enjoyable.
When I was prone on this tilting table that they actually tie you to with a seat belt, I craned my head around to see the live feed from the ultrasound. The nurse jerked the monitor around so I could see it better. It was interesting. All that digital flesh. I tried to think of what it looked like, and I thought: The inside of me looks like waves.
So, I'm not dying of cancer. That kind, anyway. That I'm aware of, anyhow. There may be other things going on in my interior of which I am not aware, of course. But I'm not dead yet.
