Unexpected Results

As you know, I have been wanting to talk to Mr. J about going forward in getting his divorce finalized.

And on Wednesday evening, on our nightly walk around the neighbourhood, he finally told me that he was ready to do it, that it was ‘time’.

But I’m not exactly thrilled on how he came to that realization.

You see, Sunday night I was lying in bed after a long day, reading.

And… I felt a lump.

A small lump definitely, but… a lump nonetheless.

When Mr. J came to bed I asked him to feel it. And he agreed that it was ‘something.’

As a woman, we are told to examine our breasts monthly in the shower, and I have done that on occasion, but really never knew what I was looking for.

So Monday during work I called to book an appointment with my doctor. Thankfully I was able to get in to see her that evening.

She agreed that what I felt was ‘something’. So she made a referral to have a mammogram and an ultrasound on my right breast.

On Wednesday, I received word that there was a spot open for next day at 8:20 AM. I let Mr. J know that I would be going on Thursday morning. (This is four days after finding ‘something’)

He told me he would try to take the morning shift off work to go with me.

We went back and forth about it for a bit, I know he had to take the time off unpaid, and I didn’t feel that it was altogether necessary for him to do that. It’s not like he could go into the appointment with me, he would have to stay in the waiting room.

Regardless, it was done. He booked it off to drive to the appointment with me.

The night before the appointment, we went for our nightly walk. And he said that this news had given him something to think about and that, ‘maybe it was time I got divorced.”

Now, those are words I have been waiting eight months to hear, but I’m not really thrilled with the reasoning behind it.

As he talked, I didn’t jump for joy. All I said was, ‘well you have to be sure this is what you want. Don’t decide to do it just because of what may, or may not happen after tomorrow’s appointment.”

“No,” he said, “it’s not that. It’s time. It’s been three years since she told me she was leaving me, and two years since she has been gone.”

And then he said the magic words, “it’s really time to go forward with US”.

The next morning we drove to the hospital for my appointment. Mr. J drove, thankfully. We found parking, we checked in. He sat in the waiting room when I went in.

I was given a gown and told to wait. Then ten minutes later I was brought into the room where a really nice technician asked me to step up and she started the process of the mammogram. Two films on the right breast, two on the left.

Then she went to consult with the radiologist. As I sat and waited.

She came back in about five minutes later and said she had to do more film.

“Not on your right breast, but on your left.”

Oh.

She took two more films of the left breast. Then I moved to the room next door for the ultrasound.

The technician did the ultrasound on my right breast. She focused on the spot where I felt the lump.

After some time she said, “I think it’s just fatty tissue.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Then she looked at the left breast.

And looked again.

And kept looking.

And kept shifting me so that I was on my side, left arm up over my head. And I actually said, “draw me like one of your French girls.”

She snorted and said, ‘no one’s ever said that to me during a breast ultrasound before.”

Leave it to me to quote Titanic when being felt up by another woman.

So she continued with the exam. She kept using the wand over my left breast. On the side of it. Around it.

And then she went into my armpit.

After about ten minutes of imaging, she told me I could sit up and that she was going to have the radiologist look at the images.

The radiologist came in about five minutes later, and asked for me to lie back down. She used the wand over my left breast again and the two of them murmured together.

“So,” she said, “your right breast lump is just fatty tissue.”

“But there is a spot in your left one.”

Well. I didn’t see THAT coming.

“It’s very small,” she said, “but we are going to have you come back for an ultrasound guided biopsy, to see what it is.”

She reassured me that ‘it’ was tiny, and so because of that, I am considered low-priority. “Low enough that you aren’t urgent, but high enough that we want you to come back.”

So I probably won’t get called for an appointment soon, but I will be going back.

I thanked her for her work and went to change back into my clothes.

I met Mr. J in the waiting room. We took the elevator down in silence.

As I was paying the parking fee, I told him, “so my right breast is fine – it looks like a fatty tissue deposit or some such thing.”

And then I took a deep breath and said, “but they found something in the left one.”

We navigated out of the parking lot, which in itself was a chore. There was actually a valet trying to jockey the extra cars that were parked in front of other cars. Once we were clear, we decided to go for breakfast, since I’d not eaten that morning.

I don’t remember much of what we talked about on the drive to the restaurant. But once we sat down, Mr J said to me, “wow… that small fatty deposit might have just saved your life.”

I’m trying to not think of things like that. I’m trying to only keep it going one day at a time.  While we were at breakfast though, I did get up the courage to say this to Mr J. “I just really hope that, regardless of the outcome of today, you will do what you said you were going to do. I don’t want it to be like your passport: you decide it’s time to get one. You get the forms, you start filling them out. But then you leave it and end up forgetting about it and so for months it sits there incomplete. You know me. Now that you have mentioned it, twice, I know about it, and I am going to think that it’s going forward. I don’t want to be thinking it’s in progress only to find out six months from now that nothing has been started.”

Essentially I told him that I am not going to nag him about this. He said it’s time. He was thinking of me, and if there were expensive medications I might need, being on his benefits is the right thing to do.

It is the right thing to do, but I’m wondering if for the wrong reason. Even though I asked him and he denied it, I know that had this unexpected result not happened, he would be happy to continue on with things as they were.

It’s probably going to take him at least a month to bring it up with the Ex. And that won’t go over well. They had agreed to keep each other on their company benefits until they got divorced. She would be covered solo afterwards, unless she hooks up with The Boyfriend’s plan. (No news on their moving in together, we are starting to think that we might have misjudged that.) The children will continue to be covered under both of their plans.

And that’s where it stands. He knows what he has to do, and there isn’t anything I can do about it.  I am not going to hound him or nag him about it.

It has to be because he WANTS it, not because he feels he HAS to do it.

So for now, I wait.

I wait for an appointment that will tell me my next step in this journey.

I wait for Mr. J to put his ducks in a row and start making some phone calls/ sending some emails to get the ball rolling.

There’s not really more I can do about either.

 

 

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