Men, this would be a good place to cover your eyes lest you be exposed to some major girl talk.
I had my first mammogram today. I had no real idea what to expect beyond what I’d read or heard about somehow squishing breasts. The lady who was to be my photographer asked if I was afraid of the stories I’d heard. I truthfully said that I wasn’t.
“Well,” she cautioned, “some say it hurts.” She kept trying to warn me throughout the photo shoot and I got the impression she really felt bad about the upcoming pain. I started wondering if I should be scared.
I hoisted my right girl up onto a glass plate and the tech positioned the holder in a way to get my best angle, I guessed. “Whrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr”, the machine moaned as the upper and a lower glass plates came together, squishing my girl, along with some chest muscle in a way I’d never seen it before. It gave new meaning to being “flat chested.”
I knew I could scream out in pain, order her to stop and protest, as she’d told me before starting, but it truly didn’t hurt.
“Hold your breath, don’t move,” she ordered firmly yet nicely.
The word “cheese” came to mind, but I dared not say it out loud. I held my breath as told to do.
After four glamourous shots, I admitted that only the last one had hurt a bit. She thanked me for being so nice and not telling her off. Mammogram photographer must be in the same category of career choices as dentists and lawyers, knowing you’ll have to inflict pain on your clients to help them. “Some people yell when the glass just barely touches them,” she complained. I wondered if the lady I’d seen in the waiting room before going in had told her off. Red-faced and shaking her head, she had obviously been annoyed. I must have seemed like a pleasant patient in contrast.
“Well, if I had soreness and pain in my breasts, I’d problaby swear a blue streak at you, too,” I thought before going back to the waiting room to see if the pics were good enough to feature on a cover. I sat down on a floral print chair thinking about how we women can give birth for hours and sometimes, for days. Why then are we making such a big deal out of a pinch of pain that lasts less than 5 minutes??
My photos approved for print, I came home and watched Oprah. I caught the segment about a woman who was going to heal her breast cancer using the Secret. Even Oprah was trying to get her to undergo traditional treatment. “Can’t you do both?” she asked the determined lady, but she (Kim) had given herself 6 months to try the unconventional approach.
I only wish Kim the best and hope her girls are healthy. And the rest of her, too. In no way, shape or form do I know what’s best for her. What I do know is that I don’t want to ever be in the position to have to make those choices.
