Squish ’em baby one more time

Last week I went on a whine fest.  I’d had a crappy week, and throwing a pity party seemed like the right thing to do. Thankfully the weekend was much more enjoyable, despite a hurricane that passed quite close to my motel room on the beach.  While it tamped down the plans for a romantic weekend get-away, Irene accomplished something else, more sleep. I’m not one to sleep while a television is on, but I managed to sleep through a football game AND a NASCAR race. I was told that I only snored a little bit.

Today, I returned to the mammography center to get a second look  at “the toddlers”. I call them the toddlers because they are chubby and small. If I ever lose weight, I’ll move back to the front of the alphabet in cup size. That’s my excuse for my extra poundage, at least for today.

Last week I had the annual squish-em-flat session. I will say this for the machinery now used at my hospital. Its a vast improvement over the old machines. The old machines pinched me so hard I’d almost pass out with the pain. The only thing that stopped me was the realization was that if I passed out, that I’d only be held up by boob, and my dead body weight would be quite dangerous to the connectivity status of that pinched portion of my body. To say I dislike mammograms is an understatement. But I know that prevention is a key element to health, so enduring the few minutes of torture is worth it. What they use these days still is uncomfortable, but much less so

I had received a call that I needed to have things looked at again. This had happened one time before, and it scared me plenty. I lost my step-mom to breast cancer and that fact made me worry that I’d get an unhappy diagnosis. They took more boob pinching photos.

At one point I quipped to the tech, “So you couldn’t pinch them off the last time, so you are trying with different angles?”

At least she laughed at my dark humor. The results? Nothing found.  “Oh you are fine Ms. Galloway, you can go home.” They told me, sending me on my way.

This time was no different. I get the call, make arrangements for a return visit then spend the entire weekend with the thoughts of  how horrible it could be if they actually found something truly scary, and how scary is that which may have been discovered? As I have a very healthy over-active imagination, I had to try a little extra hard to keep it from running completely amok. I wasn’t 100% successful despite the assurance of my boyfriend, my friends and family that things were going to be just fine, stop freaking already.

So I go, and lo and behold something is actually found…shit! Of course that’s my initial reaction. The ultrasound tech says, “No, that’s a good thing. We want to find something, that way we can determine if its malignant or not.”

I’m still thinking “Shit shit shit!”

Outwardly I am attempting to look completely calm. After all I’m on a bed with a ultrasound gun on my chest. What else can I do? The tech doesn’t look at all concerned. She’s just making comments like “oh its a tiny thing.” and “Hmm, If I move the device to over here, will I lose the view?”

After looking at the inside of my left breast from every conceivable angle, it was determined that the discovery was a tiny cyst, most likely brought on by the hormones used to regulate my menstrual cycles. I don’t even have those any more thanks to the eviction of Bubbette and Earlene, the fibroid tumors that had taken up residence in my now former uterus.

That being nicely cleared up I was given the go ahead to get dressed and leave, with the nice reminder to return again in a year. I will be back next week to pay the bill. Second mammograms are not 100% covered by insurance. Sigh,yet another hit to my tiny budget. But I get a discount if I pay early.

Even though I got a minor scare, I am glad that the breast health staff seem a little over cautious when it comes to things like that. Finding a real problem early greatly increases the chances of eradicating the problem quickly and using much less invasive methods. I am a firm believer in prevention, and such screenings fit the bill, despite the annoyance factor.  The technology gets better all the time, as well as treatment options for when trouble is discovered.

“The toddlers” are safe for another year, the only pinching they will experience will come from a bra that has had suffered failure to keep an under-wire in place.


2 Replies to “Squish ’em baby one more time”

  1. Last year I was diagnosed with breast cancer I went through two operations, radiation treatments and I am still going through hormone therapy. I have to have mammograms every three months for a while. I hate having mammograms, but I enjoyed reading your funny story.


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