Today the Matron took her hypochondriacal self to Ovary Ultrasound. Actually, they took pictures of the whole package.
She learned that it is possible to have an intense and compelling conversation with the person, ahem, applying all those tools below and within for that peekaboo -- if that person is another working mama!
The Matron so adored her ultrasound technician she practically didn't want the exam to end! Practically. They chit-chatted about children, jobs, husbands (men!) and the impossible juggle. The Matron learned that the technician's daughter was somber -- a worrier-- but her son? One big bundle of joy. But the technician worried a lot about her daughter.
The technician got an earful about somebody's children, herself. You know the content. They both got a little quiet when the technician said pregnancy ultrasounds weren't always the joyful kind the Matron experienced.
"Sometimes I deliver bad news. Those are horrible days."
Why, the Matron grabbed her arm: "Oh, Elizabeth! I hadn't considered that -- how wrenching.""
And at the end of the exam, while her new Best Girlfriend Elizabeth was walking her out? Said friend motioned, come hither, and dropped to a whisper.
"Mary - you know they told you I can't tell you the results of the exam, but I sooo don't want you to worry at school today and you said you were always a wreck about this stuff. . . . the films look totally normal and the radiologist already labeled it normal. But, shhhh. Act happy when the doctor calls! And I am totally going to read The Hour I First Believed!"
They practically hugged. Thank you, girlfriend!
Thank heavens that's put to rest. Looks like she's good to go for the next one. Melanoma, anyone?