Before I get into the deets, here's the short story: everything is okay.
Okay: so I got to my ultrasound appointment around 7:10 a.m. (how early did I have to wake up to be there then? That would be 5:15. Yawn.) and signed half a million forms. I was so sleepy that I even misspelled MY OWN NAME while writing my signature. I KNOW.
They took me back, and I changed into one of those flimsy waist-up hospital shirts, and there were four ties on it and I couldn't figure them out at 7:30 a.m., so I just left them untied. And clutched the shirt closed and prayed my boobies weren't going to try to escape.
At 7:40, they took me back, had me lie on my right side (it's my left breast), and squirted me up with gel. It was warm, which I wasn't expecting, but I was relieved since the rest of the office was a frickin' freezer! The ultrasound gal did a very thorough job and spent about 10 minutes looking all around.
When she was done, she told me she didn't think she had seen anything suspicious, but she was going to run the pictures by the radiologist just to be sure. About 10 minutes later, she came back and said they thought all was well--just looked like normal dense breast tissue to them.
While waiting for the breast surgeon's office to open, I got a frappucino. Lord have mercy, I haven't had one of those in FOREVER. During my junior year of high school I relied on a cup of coffee every morning to keep me awake, but I haven't drunk much coffee since then--and good lord, that frappucino had me hopping. I was bouncing off the walls in the waiting room.
Next came the breast surgeon. She came in, felt me up, and the told me that yeah, there's a new lump there. She definitely felt it, but she thought it was okay as well. She did tell me to keep an eye on it, and I'll follow up with her (again) when I come home for Christmas break.
So: all is well. Thank you so much for all your well-wishes, tweets, and emails. And to my left boob: PUH-LEAZE stop causing drama.