So I called the doctor's office this morning, after having a day to get my shit together and not be so pissy. I just point blank asked "Why a surgical specialist?"
The answer:
"That's Dr. ____'s protocol. She does this with every single one of her patients when she feels something."
My response:
"So she has everyone get a biopsy?"
Answer:
"No, this isn't for a biopsy. This is just a consultation with a breast surgeon. It's a second opinion on your films."
Me:
"Um, I already got a second (and third) opinion on my films. Why would I need a surgeon to give me a second (4th really) opinion on a clear mammogram and ultrasound?"
Answer:
"That's Dr. ____'s protocol."
Me:
"Can you note in my file that I feel I have gotten sufficient opinions on my films and ultrasound and will not be going to see the surgical specialist?"
Answer:
"Oh, sure. No problem."
Done. I was so trying to keep my cool. I didn't want to take my frustrations out on the triage nurse. She's just doing her job, after all.
So it's a good thing I called, I guess. She didn't want me to have it done because of family history (there is none) and she didn't want to have it done because she thought there was something sketchy with my films. She just wanted me to get it done cuz that's how she rolls.
Well, it ain't how I roll.
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