These boobies don’t need a mammogram. Yours do.
I’m a person who HATES to make appointments for things. Seems to be an aspect of procrastination, from which I also suffer. To quote John Fowles, “If I have an appointment for the dentist 6 months in the future, I can’t concentrate on anything.”
But: I do make appointments for medical tests that are indicated for me, and my medical background. I’m a firm believer that the only thing worse that finding Something Wrong is not finding it. In high school I had an outstanding teacher who died at 55 because she was chicken to go to the doctor and have a breast-lump looked at, and didn’t go until it was too late.
Mammogram
Step 1: Ignore all the horror stories. Make an appointment for a mammogram.
Step 2. The Day has arrived. Details may vary with location and facility, but this is how it goes at the hospital I go to. When you show up for your mammogram appointment, you will be taken to a little cubicle, to change into the traditional johnny gown. Bring a plastic bag to put your clothes in, since you don’t know who last draped their clothes over the chair. Wait for a moment until the kind lady comes to get you.
Step 3. Enter the white room with the big white machine in it. Step up to it like a boss. Slip the gown off one shoulder. Do what the kind lady with warm hands tells you. She will put a white tissue on the bottom plate, and will assist you in spreading Boob #1 on it, and will arrange your head, arms and shoulders so as to keep you out of the way of the top plate. She will push a button that lowers the top plate down on top of your boob, possibly re-arranging it (the boob) as it (the plate) descends.
(First time I got this done I asked “how does it know when to stop?”. An experienced medical assistant, the lady knew what I really meant. She smiled and said, “the machine will break before it does any harm”, which I found a little cryptic but satisfactory and reassuring.)
Step 3 continues. The top plate descends, squishes your boob lightly, but not to the point of pain. Trust me on this. Sure, there’s some pressure, it isn’t the type of thing where you’d like to stand there all day long with it going on, but for the, hm, I’d say 10 seconds it takes, you can easily stand it. If it truly hurts, tell the lady. Although, like I said, she’s trained and experienced and is watching you for adverse reactions, so she’ll likely know before you do if something isn’t right.
Step 4. The top plate rises. Procedure is repeated with the other boob.
Step 5. Smile and thank the lady.
Step 6. Go get dressed. Congratulations. You did it! Now go spread the word so other women will have this important medical test done.
Ultrasound
One year my doctor wasn’t happy that the mammogram was showing a very good picture. So she sent me for an ultrasound. Just the once. Excess of caution, I think.
Step 1. The johnny coat again. They have you lie down in a room with a smaller machine. You’ll probably be able to see the screen. Prepare to enjoy the puzzling display of, to you, undifferentiated bits of light and dark.
Step 2. The technician – there might be two – will spread cold goo all over your breasts. Would it kill them to keep it in a baby-bottle warmer?
Step 3. The technician has a mouse-like (computer, not furry) doo-dad that she will run all over your breasts. Lie back and relax, this will take a while. It’s very boring. It seemed to me they were at it for 20 minutes, but it was probably only 10.
Step 4. Eventually she will be done, and will dab ineffectively at your breasts to take off the worst of the goo. I said, “shall I do that?” and she smiled gratefully and I finished the clean-up myself. You might want to bring a wet-wipe with you to do a proper job of it, tissue-only clean-up left me feeling like I still had a little goo still on me.
Step 5. Go get dressed. Congratulations! There’s that over with, possibly forever.
