Welp, the biopsy is over, sort of.
The short story is, it didn’t happen.
The longer story is, the resident came in, took a needle the size of a ketchup bottle, and over the course of ten minutes and some uncomfortable torque, filled my neck up with lidocaine.
Then the attending physician came in, took some ultrasound imagery, seemed a little dumbfounded, took some more aggressive imagery, and said, “I’m not seeing ANY of the indicators we would look for here, in order to require a biopsy this early.”
In her opinion, the person who initially read the ultrasound was incorrect in ordering a biopsy at this stage.
There aren’t ANY of the dangerous indicators the attending was told there were, and the mass is so small she could have had to do three, four, five pokes at my neck with the larger, baseball-bat-sized needle in order to get enough material to analyze.
It doesn’t answer what’s causing the slight swelling and pain in my neck, which is in exactly the same place. Every doctor I’ve talked to swears it could be the GERD.
So we decided to let the neck rest for a year, then re-image and reassess. If it is something non-benign, those kinds of things are slow growing and easily treated. So I’m told.
My neck bruised and swelled more; it killed for a few days, and felt as big as a house. Made me wonder what it would have felt like with five more pokes in it.
Definitive answers would be great, but I’m less freaked out than I was.
Now. Neurologist next Friday.
Fingers crossed for “your eye problems are happening because you are aging” or some suchlike thing, and I guess it’s as close to a clean bill of health as I’m going to get.
Maybe then I’ll feel like I can get back to the textiles with less anxiety. There have been an awful lot of movies watched over here lately. Probably not helping the eyes.
Hey, my fifties! I see you coming, you bitches!