A call from a nurse today resulted in finding out that Froedtert was without power this morning, so I don't anticipate hearing anything until Monday. It's going to be a long weekend of waiting and wondering.
My husband is my rock. He was at the hospital with me, albeit in the waiting room and unable to delve further into the inner sanctum of the breast care center. It made me think of the day our oldest was born. He was waiting with me, then was ushered to change into scrubs and I was taken into the OR to be prepped for my first C-section. When he came back to the original room, I wasn't there and he flipped out. Literally, going to kill someone freak out. He took the nearest orderly and pushed him against the wall and demanded to know where I was taken. Thankfully, my doctor heard the ruckus and calmed him down.
I'm keeping positive knowing that worrying isn't healthy and this could all be just a precaution. One of two things will happen. I'll find out there is nothing wrong and I'll move about my day, or I'll found out that there is something wrong and I'll tackle it, side by side, with my husband, kids, family and friends.