And so it goes...

I have a lump.  It's in my armpit.  I often wonder why everything that happens to me, has to be located in embarrassing places on my body.  First I had that Crohn's thing and that whole surgery.  And you know where that took place.  Yep.  Then I had two kids and you know where that whole thing happened too.  Then I had the breast reduction and now the armpit affliction.  Sometimes I feel picked on...

Anyway, awhile ago I was sitting in the tub, going to shave my pits, and I felt this lump.  Huh.  So I showed Greg who immediately freaked out.  (He gets that genetically, he can't help it.)  He was getting his pants on to take me to the ER.  Instead of that plan, I searched the Internet for an answer.  The advice I liked the best (and that's the best part of self diagnosis on the Internet, YOU get to pick which one you want!) said this: "If it doesn't change, but doesn't go away in two weeks, get it checked."  It's been three weeks, and today I went to get it checked.

I love our new GP.  He's awesome.  He is very intelligent and extremely thorough.  He's older, which I like, but he's also mysterious.  He eludes to personal things but doesn't explain.  Once he said "I spent 5 weeks in the ICU."  (That's it.)  I'm too proper to ask questions, so it makes it kind of like a guessing game.  Today he said "When I first went to college, I studied Marine Biology.  That didn't work out too well for me."  Hmmm.

I laid in my bed this morning thinking about how best to prepare to bare my lump.  I put off showering until just before.  I have a firm belief that if someone is going to see your nakedness, you should make every attempt to smell good and look decent.  So I double soaped.  You know, rinse and repeat.  I used the conditioner that smells extra good.  Then I got to the business of shaving said pits.  I shaved this-a way, then that-a way.  Because you have to do that to get it all, dontcha know.  Can't I just say that it's tricky to shave around a lump?  Especially if you're a big mama and you can't see completely around the corner that your body makes with your arm in the air.  I need one hand to hold back the corner so I can see, but then what hand will I shave with?  See the problem?  

When I got out, I put on vanilla lotion.  Because that's my scent.  I double brushed my teeth and even put on lipstick.  Then I put on pit stick.  I had thought about it before hand.  I had to put SOME on.  I knew they would weigh me and every time I get weighed I break out in a sweaty mess.  It's the sweat of shame.  But I couldn't put TOO much on.  It would be all clumpy, and when I raised my hand one of those white balls would fall out and I would be even more embarrassed.  So I put a little bit on.  I used Halle's chant from the 1st grade drinking fountain- "1-2-3 that's enough for me!"  I got my clothes right out of the dryer, as to take full advantage of my scented fabric softener sheet.

It was at this point that we left to go.  We were early.  I spent 15 minutes in the waiting room with Greg who was lamenting over raising the children on his own after my untimely death. (See genetic disposition above.)  After the sweaty weigh-in, (it's a damn good thing I put SOME on.) we sat and spoke with the nurse.  She kept saying the word breast.  I thought to myself, "Self, if I don't say something I am going to have to have a full on breast exam.  And if they do that, they might want to throw in a pap smear.  And I haven't mentally and emotionally prepared for that!"  So I told her that the lump was definitely in my pit, not near any breast tissue.  She informed me that breast tissue does, indeed, extend under your arm.  Like I don't know where my girls are.  Lady, I've lived with big girls for a long time and these new, smaller girls for quite awhile now.  I know where they are at all times.  The lump is in the PIT.

It ended up not mattering.  She made me take everything off the top and put on the paper shirt with no buttons.  Wide open.  In the front.

The doctor came in and was very friendly.  He first felt my unafflicted pit.  Mind you, he didn't even put gloves on.  He was sliding all around there on my 1-2-3 layer of pit stick.  Feeling and feeling for a long time.  It was like a pit massage.  Then he came around the other side and started sliding all around over there too.  He found it right away and massaged the lump for awhile.  It almost felt good.  We had a nice conversation that went like this:

Greg:  It's a good thing you took a shower today.
Dr.: It doesn't matter, I don't notice such things.
Me:  Oh.
Dr.: And it's not tender?
Me:  No.
Dr.: it's rather subcutaneous to be a lymph node, it's probably glandular.
Me: oh.
Dr. : But it's lack of tenderness doesn't fit with an infection.
Me:  Hmmm
Dr.:  I think it may have started with a nick while shaving....
Me: (I was TRYING to be honest when I said:) I don't shave that much in the winter.
Dr.:  Yes, I can see it's been a few weeks...

WHAT?  A few weeks?  Try 45 minutes!

So he doesn't appreciate my pre-appointment preparedness.  Next time I won't prepare at all.  And there will be a next time.  You see, he prescribed me antibiotics.  Two weeks worth.  And if I take all those antibiotics I am going to end up with a mother of a yeast infection.  (I come by it genetically.  I can't help it.)  That will show him.

And the lump?  A bit of a mystery.  There is no mystery in either of my breasts though.  They have had a detailed once over.  At one point I thought he was even going to examine my upper-most roll.  The one that holds the girls up.

He's nothing if not thorough.