A Close Call

I’ve been mentally holding my breath for the past month since the accident.

After all my bruises and scrapes healed, I thought I was well on the road to mental and physical recovery.

Then I discovered a small bump near my left hip where the bruises had been.

First visit to the doctor left the bump uncategorized; she possibly thought it was something that had been there for a while. That meant an ultrasound, which lead the radiologist and the doctor to believe I had a blood clot. This turned into a CT scan because they wanted to rule out the possibility of cancer.

I was pretty sure it wasn’t cancer. Dementia and Alzhiemer’s my family is prone to, but not cancer. But still…

Nothing like having to wait for nearly a week for the doctor to call back with the results. And, Murphy’s Law, she called on a Friday afternoon, which means I didn’t get it until after the office closed.

Which means I have to sit through the weekend to find out what’s going on.

And was delayed a day because my doctor was not in the office on Mondays.

In short, they don’t see anything potentially life threatening: no fluids, no blood, no cysts. If anything happens to pop up, I just schedule an appointment for a checkup.

It’s like Bette Midler sang about a quarter of the way through “Beaches”: Got no diamonds/got no wealth. Got no man/but I got my health.

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