Breasts, bosom(s), bust, chest, boobs, knockers, bazooms, hooters…
I am both elated and disappointed to say that today's mammogram was not nearly as bad as I remembered them to be. Elated because it wasn't bad at all, and disappointed because I really don't have anything to bitch about.
Of course I had major anxiety about the event, not because I'm afraid they might find something but because it might hurt. I go to great lengths to avoid pain when possible. Many years ago my doctor did, indeed, find a lump, a mass, call it what you will.
Because I have a family history of breast cancer a mammogram was swiftly ordered. That my first, and previous, mammogram was some ordeal! It was the kind the cartoons and jokes were written about. I swear my boob was indeed in that vice for, like, five minutes. I don't recall them doing both sides, maybe they did, one was bad enough! It hurt, it was uncomfortable, and I had no idea that I could squish down to about a quarter-inch flat (and I'm sure that both of you didn't want to know either, but now you do—sorry).
In the end, the suffering was for naught, and the mammogram was useless. The tissue was too dense to see anything. I had to have an ultrasound after that. I'll end the story saying the lump was removed, it was not cancer, and I haven't had another one since (that I know of).
Yup, this pic pretty much explains how I remember it. Today, however, was different. Big fancy machine, it was like something out of Star Trek…and talk about quick! And there wasn't even that quarter-inch pancake squish that I so dreaded. Compression was down to about three-quarters of an inch to an inch, max. The compression, while uncomfortable, only lasted a few seconds…about as long as I could hold my breath, because she asked me to.
And all the fun little stickers I got put on me so the doctor could tell what-was-what. I especially got a kick out of the stickers with the tiny bb's embedded in them so the doctor could “tell where the nipple was”. I was hoping the doctor could tell just from the shape, but what do I know?
It didn't go without problems. My good ol' right breast (sorry again you two), was again too dense for a good image to be taken, so I had do-overs several times for that. I was actually in an out of there and back in the car by 11:30, my actual appointment time.
I told Big Al that if I had to have a mammogram, he had to have a prostate exam. He replied by saying ,“This isn't a tit-for-tat…y'know.” Ah, he never fails to come up with them.
Anyway, results will be in the mail, allow 2-3 weeks. I already know they aren't going to find anything. Oh well, it's done. I think every two years is the agenda right now. Oh joy.
I am both elated and disappointed to say that today's mammogram was not nearly as bad as I remembered them to be. Elated because it wasn't bad at all, and disappointed because I really don't have anything to bitch about.Of course I had major anxiety about the event, not because I'm afraid they might find something but because it might hurt. I go to great lengths to avoid pain when possible. Many years ago my doctor did, indeed, find a lump, a mass, call it what you will.
Because I have a family history of breast cancer a mammogram was swiftly ordered. That my first, and previous, mammogram was some ordeal! It was the kind the cartoons and jokes were written about. I swear my boob was indeed in that vice for, like, five minutes. I don't recall them doing both sides, maybe they did, one was bad enough! It hurt, it was uncomfortable, and I had no idea that I could squish down to about a quarter-inch flat (and I'm sure that both of you didn't want to know either, but now you do—sorry).
In the end, the suffering was for naught, and the mammogram was useless. The tissue was too dense to see anything. I had to have an ultrasound after that. I'll end the story saying the lump was removed, it was not cancer, and I haven't had another one since (that I know of).
Yup, this pic pretty much explains how I remember it. Today, however, was different. Big fancy machine, it was like something out of Star Trek…and talk about quick! And there wasn't even that quarter-inch pancake squish that I so dreaded. Compression was down to about three-quarters of an inch to an inch, max. The compression, while uncomfortable, only lasted a few seconds…about as long as I could hold my breath, because she asked me to.
And all the fun little stickers I got put on me so the doctor could tell what-was-what. I especially got a kick out of the stickers with the tiny bb's embedded in them so the doctor could “tell where the nipple was”. I was hoping the doctor could tell just from the shape, but what do I know?
It didn't go without problems. My good ol' right breast (sorry again you two), was again too dense for a good image to be taken, so I had do-overs several times for that. I was actually in an out of there and back in the car by 11:30, my actual appointment time.
I told Big Al that if I had to have a mammogram, he had to have a prostate exam. He replied by saying ,“This isn't a tit-for-tat…y'know.” Ah, he never fails to come up with them.
Anyway, results will be in the mail, allow 2-3 weeks. I already know they aren't going to find anything. Oh well, it's done. I think every two years is the agenda right now. Oh joy.
Three letters: T-M-I. I'll tell you how my genetic counselor appointment goes today; they apparently do a full physical examination, and you know what that means, at least in my case...
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