I guess we're in a pattern called the 6-month freak out.
I got a phone call from the imaging clinic this week, reminding me that it had been 6 months since my mammo revealed a lump or bump or pea-sized anomaly or 4mm mass or fibrous creature from the land of glands. Whatever you'd like to call it.
I got the call one day, set up the appointment for the next -- luckily, someone had canceled her boob-squish appointment so I took the spot. Get it over with, out of the way, out of my mind, etc.
This morning, I had the follow-up mammo done. The lump or bump or pea-sized blahblahblah was still there. Luckily, though, it hadn't grown bigger or misshapen which, I'm told, means that it's probably nothing, same as they told me last time.
Go home and try to ignore it, they say, for the next half a year, then they'll call me in to do it yet again. Yeah, ignore it. Except do your monthly self exam and second-guess yourself about whether it has grown.
I know men are fond of them. But boobs are more trouble than they're worth. Honestly.