I had an unexpectedly enjoyable time today, when my ultrasound technician introduced me to her shadowing trainee today.
While they did not ask me if I minded or wanted another human involved, it was done so authoritatively that I could easily anticipate it would be an argument to insist upon consent and I didn’t intend to spend more time in the imaging facility than required, thank you.
That issue set firmly aside, the remainder was enjoyable because I made them both answer questions about what they could and couldn’t see, thus confirming they didn’t see certain things I was quite desirous they should not find. This being quite a sneaky way of obtaining completely unofficial and not at all domain approved readings of what can be reasonably witnessed at the time.
Every risk management professional, all lawyers, and most medical insurance agents just flinched like they’d been pinched, I promise you.
ANYWAY… it’s nice to know that if there are any new stones, they’re certainly not like the monster of ’21. -11/10 and do not recommend.
I got a real chance to see the difference between a trainer and their trainee in handling the probe/scanner/reader, too. The digging never got overt, but between the ribs was appropriately called out by the training technician. Trainee got an eyeful of my amazingly rare uterine lipoma (I’m considering names) and we wowwed over the fact that my champion of a left kidney is actually still alive and working given that in late 2021, a septic staghorn calculus that was 49mm and filling all channels finally got PCNL’d out before it could kill me. But just barely. And that was how we a single references in the xray that revealed the big arsed stone led me to the yet-to-be named ultra-rare, uterine angiolipoma.
Pure fat, fiber, and bloodsupply. I have read a few papers on it by now, so I grinned up to the trainer and asked, “How many uterine angiolipomas have you ever seen?”
The trainer spent a few minutes going through various schemes of lighting and how to use contrast to improve the image for capture, and other, more technical statements that were hardware related, showing it all to the trainee. She used the lipoma as an excuse to satisfy her own curiosity, show the trainee how to access and change contrasts for different types of use cases, and told us both as much as she knew about lipomas (non-infiltrating) and I gave them a link to a review of literature on infiltrating specific to the female reproductive system that helped me get the authorization to have the MRI completed.
I am quite proud of myself that I did not self-start the infodump on related problems resultant to ultrasounds and MRIs lately, nor the one about deductibles resetting every year. Blah blah blah, insurance companies blow, what else that isn’t news did you need to know there?
I had a spot of autistic joy that I’m a genetic freak who grows weird things in her body, but they are (mostly) not harmful and not likely to kill me (expect maybe that one that I might want an epipen for). The whole thing was quite fun and felt oddly inclusive. Humans trading tales and examples over a newer, digital campfire… learning how to understand and be understood. It was very empowering as a patient to be able to add context to how their work helps me find the treatment I need and to be part of someone else’s learning journey, and to have that actually include me as a perspective and connotative context positively was… hella nice.
Also, to get at least some preliminary idea of whether or not something “CLEARLY” not as it should be if seen (i.e., say, a 49mm staghorn calculus, or a 6″ uterine lipoma, both of which were never mentioned across years of checkups and even a few xrays and scans that I had to bring to my doctor’s attention when they did not mention it at our next appointment).
The idea that the activity has to be hidden or cloaked from the patient has always seemed kind of dumb. Only lawyers would think this is a bad thing. I mean, sure, protect identity and records and systems and the like, but I cannot be a threat when the data involved IS MY OWN (as it would not exist without me, I am the author of what the image captures. Any photographer will tell you so).
So, yes, enjoyable and unexpectedly so at that. I’m going to start taking special note of these when they show up. I dunno, feels beneficial. I’m tired but not sleepy. I was hungry and something I’m not supposed to have wound up suffering for it. The intended dinner is not yet ready/available and now I’ve “eaten” (but not really) and am annoyed with myself. I mean, come on, I just got home from a fucking kidney function and health scan.
Life affirmation? A big bite of cake as the ultimate finger to the gods and any sanity proposed on life and the probabilities of the living?
I had several large bites of an amazing, vanilla cake with practically pudding icing that I would best describe as ‘cinnabon icing toned down by replacing roughly 45% of the sweetness with a vanilla pudding based icing’ and it was TOO DAMNED delicious on the tongue and I am both elevated and hungry AF waiting on dinner to be ready and the hubstermeister walks in with this vanilla sin in a convenient clam-shell container and of course I tell myself, “I am only having ONE BITE, dinner will be here shortly!” and as soon as it lands on my mouth, I’m a goner.
For me, sugar really IS a poison, so are any fast-access carbs. I’m already at a constrained intake to diminishing returns as my systemic problems start to resemble some kind of three-body problem, only it’s systems and they’re all inside me, and it’s an uproar up in here. So yeah, sometimes, I just want to put my face in a vanilla bundt cake with vanilla pudding-sugar-frosting and shut all this up for a moment while I just enjoy being able to eat a treat.
Still a good day. Glad I got to have it.