Yes, Ma'am-O-Gram

First of all, I'm not 40. I had mine a year early by choice. That said, a warning, if you are feeling icky by looking at the title, now would be a good time to stop reading.

So. The mammogram. I've been dreading it for years. YEARS. Most women do. I have a few risk factors so I figured I might as well get it over with early. In a moment of courage when I was seeing the doctor for something else it just blurted right out of my mouth and I know my eyes went a little wide, I was surprised at myself. "I should have a physical and mammogram." What was I thinking?

The physical was bad enough. I mean really, don't you think if men had to do something similar there would be miraculous advances in technology creating harmless little gadgets to sweep over the body to detect problems. Star Trek would come to life.. if men had to have anything...smeared. So, I go to the outpatient department of the women's wing of the hospital and sign in for THAT THING that makes women tremble, and not in a good way. First to the women's only waiting room, well it's mostly women only except when men walk down the hall, they aren't allowed to sit down, but they can walk by, no biggie, we have pretty little ponchos to wear. Yes, ponchos. That's the best description I can give. It's a square piece of fabric, obviously measured for someone in Jr. High, tied at the neck, pretty much free flowing everywhere else. Now. I'm not especially prudish but uh..there is really no way to feel modestly covered.. no sleeves, no sides, and cut in such a way that.. there's no extra fabric to layer, wrap, tuck, secure, or anything else that might comfort me as I take my seat in a room full of other women. Oddly, they are all seemingly comfortable and not too concerned about gaps, ill-meeting seams, and the like. Yes, I'm the newbie. I tug and twist and try to just look unaffected while I alternately cover and bare different parts of my body, finally giving into the realization that this little kerchief isn't ever going to be described as modest.

I finally settle down and smile at whoever is looking at me, which is nearly all of them and again with the blurting, "So this is my first one.." I really want to say, "So I'm not 40 yet, I'm here early," but I figure given the atmosphere, being concerned about people knowing I'm still in my 30's MIGHT seem a little vain and shallow. The lady next to me and the one across both say, "I was called back, this is my second." Yep. Not a good time to worry over one's age. We talk briefly and I forget for a moment that the reason I am cold is that my entire right side has become exposed. Really there is no possible way to hold all the corners and sides together at once, I need some clippies..or safety pins, or A ROBE. A woman joins us from down the hall and if I thought *I* had trouble staying covered, OH MY GOOD NESS. She didn't even try and didn't seem to care, it was as if she were wearing a little scarf, and proud of it. Good for her..where's my robe..

"Mrs. Hardage.." Now let me warn you, ladies, you will do yourself a favor if you will try to emotionally detach from your breasts before you do this. They are just objects that need smished, they are harbors of disease that need checked, the gut instinct to recoil and cross your arms over your chest is pretty strong when you walk in and see the giant vice grips. The one thing no one tells you is that you need to be at least a little bit limber and practiced in either yoga or some acrobatic art, trust me, stretch before you go. You see they must place an attached part of your body into something that would be much easier were it not attached so you end up leaning your upper body just so, arms around the upper part of the machine, vulnerable and exposed, while she says, "Ok this may be a little uncomfortable.." Words of sure death. Honestly, the pressure did not hurt, but the pressure also forces muscle to be pulled and strained and it was as she said, uncomfortable. But it was over quickly, one down, one to go.

Now.. here is it important to know that my technician was a very personable, petite little thing. She asked questions, let me ask questions, allayed my fears of anything being irrevocably misshapen. She was also all business. Now the second scan was a little more tricky in that it was harder to get everything just so.. and in the end it was akin to packing a suitcase.. instead of someone sitting on it for you while you cram in all the bits hanging out, the vice things compress and the technician pushes and arranges...this is why emotional detachment is a good thing..

It's finally over and I am back in my little dressing room putting on my clothes, I don't dare look at them, I feel too guilty, sorry girls...but we had to do it. The next day I got the all clear call and breathed a heavy sigh of relief, a bonus, I can wait two years this time! And, again, if there was ever such a thing as a MAN-O-GRAM, I believe the advances in medicine would be such that nothing ever had to be compressed.