It has been 4 years minus one day since my last mammogram. I celebrated the anniversary by having to get another one. And let me tell you, I enjoyed this one just as much as the first. In case you're a virgin to the process, here's my recap: I was taken to a dressing room and given a gown, "tag goes in the back," and told to wait with the dressing room door open until they came back for me. Good thing I did! I kept thinking "this thing doesn't even come together in the front!" Then the door across from me opened, and the woman who emerged had a much more modest gown than mine! Seems there were three arm holes to maneuver, and I had missed one. Glad I didn't parade down the hall bare-chested before the rest of the procedure even began. That would have been awkward. Here's a selfie of my successful gown attempt.
Next, a stranger finagled my girls onto a butcher block one at a time and lowered a big plastic thing onto each one. A pasta maker would have been an equally fun way to go with the squishing process. The digital display on the boob smasher informed me that 16.8 pounds of pressure were holding me (or at least a very small part of me) to the block. I've been doing bicep curls with 15 pound weights for a while. It would seem I should have been conditioning my B cups instead. Now I'm cracking myself up in the naked waiting room because I'm picturing a dumbbell taped over my breast as I press 15 pounds :D What's the naked waiting room? It's the holding area where you sit in your gown that opens to the front while you wait to find out if you can get dressed or if they need to redo the fun part you just experienced. Well I got called back. Had to get an ultrasound. You know, where they dump axle grease on you and show you your baby. Except further north and no baby. I did get a chuckle though when I asked the tech if my lump was a boy or a girl. My awesome husband pulled strings to have my results read immediately by the radiologist. What a blessing. I highly recommend having a spouse with influence at a medical facility! I walked into the room with computer screens and gave my own recommendation for the place: "y'all need to get really short mammogram machines that smash testicles!" I was given a clean bill of health and asked to never return.
In all seriousness, as opposite of fun as this was, breast cancer is immeasurably worse. Take care of your girls and get them smashed!!! It really could save your life.
