A rant, because this is all I can do.

Right before Christmas, I got to have a needle core biopsy on my right breast. A few days before that, I found an impressive lump, which I quickly had checked out by my GP, who hurried me along to get a mammogram and an ultrasound. The radiologist informed me that I had a few cysts (six!) in my right breast as well as a tumor (a large one!) which he preceded with the words "definitely benign," so as to keep me from falling off the table. It worked! "Definitely benign" has a lovely, comforting ring to it. Still, though, he said we'd want to do the biopsy right away, which they did. And after it was all done, and I was lying there icing my poor, drilled boob, the warm, comforting, grandfatherly doctor who performed the biopsy assured me--PROMISED me--that the results would be in two days later, "at the latest."


I'm not going to bury the lede, here: I still don't have the results. And although I have been assured that I am most definitely going to be all fine, I would like to know, please, thank you and goodbye. I would like to not think about this any longer. And yet I am forced to think about this, a lot longer. I am feeling a little crazy. I am ready to march down to the NYU labs and start knocking heads together. Only then they wouldn't be able to give me the results, what with all the brain injuries.

And you know, if they had TOLD me it would take a while, I would have resigned myself. If they hadn't said to me, "This is the last thing you want to worry about over the holidays," I would have expected to worry about it over the holidays. Worrying's what I do, after all, so I'd add this to the list. But since they were all concern and rush-rush with me from the start, I assumed we would continue on that course. It's fun to assume things.

Instead, when I called the radiologist's office two days later, I received an incredulous "What? Of course the results aren't in yet." Then I was told to call back in a few hours. Once again, I was met with incredulity. Two days! Do I think I'm the Queen? The Queen of New York? "Call back Monday, that's when they'll be in," I was told. I couldn't believe I would now have to wait an entire weekend. Ha, ha! I was so cute, back then.

On Monday, the same woman who assured me the results would be in on Monday was amazed I would think they'd be in on Monday. "It's Christmas Eve! The lab's not even open." Call back Wednesday, she said. Because duh.

I bet you can guess what she said on Wednesday. And on that day, my friends, on that day I said to myself, "I will not be calling this office ever again. I now hate this person, and I don't want to hate someone, so I will turn my attention solely to my GP." Oh, because also, after the fifth phone call, the woman at the radiologist's finally told me that no one but my GP could give me the results anyway, so really there was no reason to call her. This is the same woman who was standing right there as Dr. Grandpa lovingly squeezed my shoulder and assured me I'd wait but 48 hours, at the most. She didn't roll her eyes even a little when he said that, and I LOOKED.

My GP continues to take my calls and emails, but she's not getting answers either, and today I couldn't stand it anymore so I called the radiologist's, again. My hate had receded, and I thought, maybe in 2013 the lady who answers the phone will be nicer. Maybe she'll tell me whom to harass at the lab. Who knows? Stranger things have happened.
"Hi, it's Alice again. Alice Bradley," I said, chuckling (why chuckling?). "Still waiting on those biopsy results, as you know." Chuckle, chuckle. Oh, me.
"They're not in yet," she said.
"Wow," I said. "This is getting nuts." Mildly, though. She could hold my results hostage, after all, so I'm trying to stay on her good side. I mean, if she has one.
And, then, my friends, she hung up. On me? Or just because she was done? I'll never know.

And, look, I sympathize. A little. She's not in control of when the lab results come in. But she should sympathize too, no? A little.