Sonograms were usually a fun treat whenever my husband and I went to the doctor's office. In fact, we were addicted to them, and would slyly interject the suggestion every time we went in for a checkup. "Sooo, are we going to see our baby today?" My husband was a cool operator, but rarely did the doctor say yes. We managed to get a few extra glimpses at our son, but it was always after some form of begging. Embarrassing? Sure...but every visit we asked anyway.
The last sonogram I had was last week, and it was the NO FUN sonogram. This was a sonogram of my right breast, which contained what felt like a small, pea sized lump that hadn't gone away as my ob/gyn had hoped.
I was referred to a breast surgeon, who then referred me to the sonogram/ultrasound department where I had an obscene amount of jelly goo put on my chest. They checked for about ten minutes, and then called in the head radiologist to take a final look. She poked around with the wand and said, "Well, I can't tell you that I see anything for certain. I'll send the films over to your doctor and you'll get a call." That was last week. No call yet.
In the end, there was no prognosis, seeing as there were no actual doctors in the room to make a definitive decision. I am not awaiting a call from my specialist who will give me the news that it's probably nothing (crossing fingers, toes, and eyeballs.)
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