YES THIS WAS POSTED A WHILE BACK….BUT SINCE IT IS OCTOBER BREAST AWARENESS MONTH, I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE GOOD TO PUT IT OUT THERE ONE MORE TIME…
June is coming! Not only is it a time for birthdays, going to California or just lying around the pool but it is also my month. Yes, it’s my month because my birthday is on the 7th…..but it is also my month because it’s MAMMOGRAM time.
This is something I’ve had to schedule around my birthday (what a gift) so I don’t forget to do the yearly. Most everyone that is reading this (with the exception of the men-folk) has had to have this form of misery in one way or another. It is just NOT something that I savor during the summer.
In case SOMEONE out there hasn’t been subjected to this torture (which by the way..the dictionary defines torture as “the implication of causing unbearable pain or suffering”) let’s go through the procedure.
After filling out massive amounts of forms which included not only YOUR health history, but your mothers, and your grandmothers and your aunts history also…you are then asked to ‘wait’ until the tech comes out to take you into her medieval chamber. So you sit in the waiting room and find yourself looking at the other women and their boobs. You wonder if everyone gets the same treatment and if they ever passed out during an exam. It could happen, you know.
So you’ve waited for eternity and the tech finally comes out and says, “Sandra?” Oh, she’s perky and she is going to be VERRRRY annoying. Your waiting room supporters look at you with tear filled eyes and mouth, “Good Luck!”. You pick up your purse and follow the wench to the cell. She’s overly cheery and has a little ‘lift’ to her step and everytime she asks you a question (on the way down the loooong hallway) she cocks her head to one side? You wonder if she has ever had this done to her and if she HAS…..well, then she’s trying to distract you from the inevitable. Either way, you suddenly hate her. She gives you a key to a ‘locker’….what? I was wanting to take in my purse in case my cell phone rang so I could tell her that I just HAVE to take this call!! No. She gives you a key and you are to put on a cotton gown and place your belongings into the locker. This way if you pass out they don’t have to take the time to look for all of your things. They just give the key to the remaining relative.
Now you have your gown on and you look totally ludicrous because you are wearing your dress shoes with the ugliest little gown ever. This needs some fashion makeover STAT! (mental note: design my own gown with matching pumps). Anwho….now comes the wait in the NEXT waiting room. This room is filled with other bosom buddies who are also waiting for their turn. There is a tv whose channel is stuck on Oprah and several 3 year old magazines with pages ripped out. We’re all in the same life-boat and it’s taking in water…..
It’s my turn…..Perky Polly comes back in and says, “We’re ready!” with her head cocked and her smile wide. Oh, if only I weren’t wearing this darn gown….I think with all my workouts I could CERTAINLY take her down. She takes you to the machine and tells you to “stand reeeal close and lean forward”. Are you kidding me? I’m on my tippy toes as it is and the thermostat has GOT to be set at 40. She comes around the side of the machine after placing her hands in a portable freezer and grabs one of my ‘precious babies’ and PUUULLSS so very hard and places it between equally frozen templates of glass. “Ok, now stay reeeeal still while I go calibrate the x-ray.” CALIBRATE? Couldn’t this have been done PRIOR to my arrival? So on my tippy, tippy toes I stand with my boob smashed and my cheek pressed sideways against a cold, metal x-ray machine…I wait. Finally after what seems like hours, she pipes up, “Ok, now hold reeeeeel still!” The x-ray machine makes a whirr and then a click and then I hear, “Ok, now let’s do the OTHER side!” I had forgotten that there WAS another one. I can’t see because of the tears in my eyes but obviously I don’t HAVE to see because in a flash she had placed her hands back into the freezer and was placing my other ta-ta back in the vice. “Let’s do this again!”, she says in her sing-song voice. (I am hating her with every fiber in my body now). Again I find myself standing on my tippy toes, leaning into the frozen metal and thinking about what maneuver I would use to “take her down”.
After the familiar whir and click, I thought I would lean back and let the baby flop out of the grip and back onto my chest. But it seems that I’m really in there good! Perky Polly tells me that she will be “Riiiiiiight back!” and proceeds to leave the room!! WAIT! I’m still stuck in this contraption!! My mind is reeling and the room is spinning! I’m going to have one boob that is down by my waist if she doesn’t come back soon! “OK! Here we go!” Polly comes back in the room and looks at me and says, “OH NO!! Isn’t that just like me to take your chart down the hall without getting you out of here?” I want to kick her in the ovary. She releases me from the death grip and I almost tumble to the floor. I am bent over walking back to the #2 waiting room. Luckily my locker is on the bottom so I don’t have to stand upright to remove my belongings. The other ladies in the room offer assistance but I just mumble and wave them away. They feel my pain.
So the next few months after the test finds me back to my usual self. Long forgotten are the pains and bruising of both my boobs and my ego. I resume my normal activities and before you know it….June is approaching and the next test awaits. Luckily my memory is SO bad that I don’t remember ALL the details until I cross the doorway to the doctors office. Then it all comes flooding back in……………….
Bottom line… Step up to the plate. Take the test. It’s your birthday month and it really IS the best gift you could give yourself………………….other than a spa day.