You will likely recall the recent post on Things That Are Terrifying. I am pleased to report that an ultrasound to follow up on the incidental finding on the CT scan revealed nothing more than two very small, benign cysts (oddly, in the contralateral area from that identified by the CT scan). No biopsy was necessary. Nothing more than routine follow-up was recommended.
"Pleased to report" is hopelessly inadequate a phrase; "tremendously relieved" may perhaps begin to describe it. The feeling was much like believing that one has seen The Grim, but then discovering that it was, in fact, nothing more than an actual puppy's shadow. Hallelujah.
In celebration (and also out of a bit of necessity), Herself went shopping for new supportive undergarments for the mammaries. They deserved a bit of cheer in honor of the Good News.
For a somewhat ample woman such as Herself, purchasing brassieres is a task that is possibly even more fraught than shopping for a bathing suit. There is much unhappiness and frustration under the glaring ugly lights of the dressing room. The vast majority of ordinary stores do not carry a cup size beyond a double-D (and even precious few of those), except for the very rare, industrial-strength items with larger band sizes. Many of these profess to be "minimizers," which essentially compact matters down lest the woman's bosom take up too much of the public airspace. Many also include odd seams in nipple-chafing patterns. These are not attractive undergarments. Why is a pretty brassiere so difficult to find? Sigh.
Miraculously, Herself managed to find a few appropriately-sized garments in a nearby store. Huzzah! Better yet, they were not excessively matronly. Huzzah again! Everything is comfortably supported without undue squashing of The Girls. All is well. Cheers.
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