It must be the lack of sleep, or just the absurd nature of today, but I'm going to add this post of today's adventure. After all, laughter is the best medicine...
How I HATE getting mammograms! If there was ever a time in my life I wish I weren't so "well endowed" it would be now! (It ranks right up there with the time I stopped taking accordion lessons when I hit puberty!) I swear the machines they use must have been invented by male terrorist interrogators. I think I would rather be water boarded than to go through the experience I had today. Even now - nearly 12 hours later - I am STILL sore! Some of the conversation today when something like this:
Ok, now I want you to drop your left shoulder - lean forward, NO - don't go up on your tip toes! Drop your shoulder - suck your tummy in - hold your "sister" with the other hand, tip you head back, look over my shoulder - OK Now I'm going to just press this down a bit... a little bit more... Oh, you're eyes haven't started watering yet it must not be squished enough...just a wee bit more - BINGO - your eyes are crossed at just the right angle. OK DON'T MOVE (honey, you have one of my sisters in captivity, I couldn't move if my life depended on it!) Now, take a deep breath (HOW??? I can't suck my tummy in and take a deep breath at the same time ARE YOU KIDDING ME???) What seems like 5 minutes later the machine releases and I'm able to drag my poor bruised TaTa off the machine. I let go and it feels like it hangs 3 inches closer to my waistline than it used to! After 3 more such torture sessions I'm led to a waiting room where I sit cradling my now stretched and sensitive "sisters" while I watch a couple argue whether the child she bore is indeed her husband's on the Jerry Springer show at a volume loud enough to be heard two counties away. Lovely!
After 20 minutes I hear my name called again. I drag my feet as I head back to the "torture chamber" trying to recall the recent sins I might have committed that would be causing the type of retribution I must now endure. Whispering pleas of forgiveness I face the machine responsible for the pain I'm experiencing.
"I'm sorry, the Doctor would like some views from a different angle. I know this is going to feel awkward but...I want you to bend at the waist, lean forward, tip your shoulder back, turn your chin sideways, I'm just going to press you flat this way, then twist your nipple that way. Oh Dear! Now that didn't hurt did it? Here we go, I'm going to press a little bit, a little bit more, just a taaaaaad bit more OH MY, did you HEAR that? It sounded like a balloon burst!?!" (She didn't say that last little bit, but it sure felt like that might happen!!)
Again I'm sent to the waiting room where I'm forced to listen to a man share his story of pain and agony during a recent mugging. All I can think is he should be experiencing my "mugging" and see if it compares at all!
Next I'm ushered to a quiet dark room while I'm told to lie down, twist my hips to the right while I tip my shoulder to the left with my arm up over my head. (Who thinks up these positions I ask you????) I'm plastered from chin to navel with COLD slimy goop. A machine roams over every square inch of my chest as well as my underarms while they take a sonogram. It wouldn't feel so bad if the weren't so sore from the recent squishing they just endured! With today's modern technology at airports where they can find weapons of mass destruction underneath clothing in crevices that never see the light of day you would think they could create a more comfortable way of exploring the female mammary glands. And they wonder why women are so reluctant to get mammograms!?!?!
After all that I'm being sent for biopsies...within a week... and the recommendation to have another torture session...I mean check-up...in 6 months. Heaven help me!
6 years ago