Ta-Ta's

Yesterday was my annual smashing of the ta-ta's a.k.a. my mammogram. I go every year, somewhat willingly, even though it's about one my of least favorite things to do. Since I'm 46, I am no amateur at this surprisingly mean and uncomfortable test. However, no matter how many times I go, it still surprises me. With the advancement of medicine in the past 100 years, you would think someone would come up with a method to look at breast tissue without requiring you to have your breast compressed in a vice. Here is a recap of my recent visit...

Hello Miss Meandering Mind. My name is Squisher. I'll be conducting your breast exam today. Please remove all clothing from the waist up, then allow me to place this band-aid like tape with a b.b. in the middle right on top of your nipple. Oh wait, is that a skin tag I see? I will need to place b.b. embedded band-aids on all of those too. Now, step up to the machine, rest your right breast on the plate, relax your shoulder, tip your head back, turn toward me, step in closer, drop your left hip, do the hokey pokey and turn yourself around. Ready??? Hold your breath and don't move. Now not wanting to be rude, I think to myself you have my boob in a vice! I can't even begin to breathe much less move from this god forsaken position so just shoot the film why don't you. If, by some miracle, they manage to get a good "picture" - which translates into the fact that my body didn't begin spasming out of the sheer pain of being held in place by this horrendous machine - I get to remove my now flattened breast from the plastic plate. Don't leave it up there too long Squisher says, or it will stick to the plastic. Are you kidding me? Leave it up there too long? I just want to grab it before it detaches itself from my rib cage. Now, we need another view.... and so it goes. Just to add insult to injury, as I get out of my gown and into my clothes, I cannot find the b.b. embedded tape that was placed on my right nipple. I suspect it shot off and flew across the room when I was holding my breath.

I complain about this procedure but go willingly out of respect for my body, my daughters and my remembrance of Maw-Maw, my wonderful neighbor. However, if I hear one more guy complaining that they had to bend over and cough, I just might put them in a vice!