Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Pancake time (and not what you think)

I got a mammogram yesterday. Ouch. If you've had one of these, you know of what I speak.

I mean, they squish your boobs into a pancake. It doesn't seem possible. Then, to add insult to injury, you have to stand as still as a statue (and hold your breath) while they take the pics. You don't dare move, since you'll have to re-do it, and it could also show something in your breast that's not really there. And no one wants a biopsy, right?

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(Yeah, how could I resist putting that picture in here?)

I've had about three at this point, even though I'm only 38. I have a family history (Mom's had it twice), so the recommendation is to start at 35. Joy. I guess it's better than worrying about it, though. But of course, it's always lurking in the back of your mind, after the mammogram, that you're waiting on the results. Just waiting for that note card in the mail to make sure you're okay. Or subconsciously dreading that call that may say you're not okay.

And I maintain that, if men had to go through a similar exam, the men in the Senate and House of Representatives would be pushing for money to research and find a better way to perform them. As my mammogram tech said yesterday, "Honey, if I had to do that kind of procedure on men, I'd quit. After 18 years, I'd be done. Men are babies." So, so true.


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