Last Tuesday was the six-month anniversary of my second surgery. While it may not sound as momentous an occasion as the anniversary of my first surgery or even of my diagnosis, I have been looking forward to it for … well … six months. Once again, in honor of the event, I kept another date with my favorite radiologist.
I could write about how I left early to beat traffic and then spent an hour and half in a coffee shop reading the Rosh Hashana edition of the Jewish community magazine while people-watching out of the corner of my eye. Or, how I went straight from the clinic to school where I taught two classes, worked on logistics for Thursday’s concert and Friday’s all-school ArtsFest event, ran a musical rehearsal after school, met a friend for drinks, and then went to a birthday dinner party. But no. The details of my very long day (and week) are not nearly as important as the 15 minutes I spent with Dr. Berk that Tuesday morning.
As with the last two visits, he started with an ultrasound on my neck to check for any suspicious activity in the glands. And … that was it! In short: he saw nothing worthy of a biopsy and so sent me on my way. He gave the report to my surgeon who called two days later to confirm that the ultrasound matched the blood work. Everything looked good and he would call me again in six months.