OK ... so I had a mammogram today. This is one of the most traumatic experiences any woman can have, and not because it hurts. A few seconds of discomfort is nothing compared to the anxiety that a nervous person feels even just stepping into the world of pink ribbons and blue gowns.
I started out with grandiose plans - although what made me make an 8am appointment I will never understand. I thought I'd go to the Y and swim afterwards, if I got out in time. Then I thought, no! I already took a shower, so I went to Target and bought a mop so I could shampoo the rugs and a shower curtain liner so I could replace the moldy one in the kids' bathroom.
Then I came home and sat by the phone. For hours. It rang four times. It was never the mammography people.
It's all because the unthinkable happened. Well, first, I had to see the films of my old breasts. The ones from last September (or thereabouts). Please note that I have never seen this before. The mammography center has gone digital on me. Now they slap up last year's films on the viewer, and this year's come up on the monitor in front of the tech's face!
So I have never seen them. The normal process was that you went in, got the water balloons smashed in the waffle iron, and were sent back out to wait in the waiting area with the other blue-gowned ladies. Then, every year, I was sent home. A few days later I would get a letter in the mail that there was "no change."
Well, this year, I had to see the films. They are very scary. There is a lot of white. Obviously this must be OK, because last year I was not recalled. This year the tech decided to take one extra shot. This sent me into an absolute panic. It has died down a bit only because it is 9:21 and I am quite sure anyone who would bring me ill tidings is well into their third martini by now. The feelings will resurface tomorrow morning. That's when I'll take my new swim-p3 and hit the icy waters. And not a moment too soon.
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