A day out for the twins...

I took the twins for a medical appointment today.

Okay it's not what you think. I am not talking about children. I am talking about my boobs. I had my first ever mammogram today.

I had heard stories of what it might be like. Needless to say I wasn't thrilled about this venture. And I now know what I do when frightened. I giggle. I giggle a lot.

I was pretty much laughing through the whole experience except for those god awful seconds when my breasts were squished to unimaginable flattened spheres.

The woman doing the procedure was absolutely wonderful. When people are about to cause you pain, it is a blessing to like your tormentor. I picked up on her New York accent right away. She was confident and smiling and assured me that I would get through this with flying colors.

When I saw the machine I did want to run but instead I walked tentatively towards it, giggled, and opened my hospital gown in order to plunk my boob upon the glass plate. My gracious tech lady told me that it was only four pictures...two for each breast. Four seconds each. She consoled me, "Anybody can tolerate four seconds of just about anything. You have had two children so this will be a piece of cake." She maneuvered my right boob into place and had me hold the other breast to get it out of the way. She told me to relax as my body went rigid. Loosening up one shoulder at a time, I allowed her to press the plate down upon the top of my breast. I felt pressure and thought to myself, "Oh this ain't so bad." But the plate kept moving downward more and more until the point of no return. I can't imagine my expression during that moment, one hand holding the next victim, as the life was squeezed out of me. I held my breath and then the first was over.

The lovely tech lady then proceeded to tell me some quote about flying. Something about that the thrill of flying is nothing compared to the thrill of landing. She told me that quote reminded her of the plate coming back up and didn't that feel good? I must say...I agreed.

In between pictures I was shaking some and she asked if I was going to faint. I reassured her that I was fine and we could proceed. I was not going to be a big baby if I could help it. I was able to tolerate the left breast much better as I knew what to expect. Then it was time for two more pictures with my breasts being squooshed sideways. Somehow these did not seem as painful.

I asked how often I had to have this done and she told me once a year from now on until I can't walk in there anymore. I thought about my MS and how I could get out of this based upon her rules! She then told me the story of how her last patient was 87 years old and had asked the same question. I bucked up and agreed to come back again next year. It is a critical procedure for us women. It is just a fact of life now.

At last it was all done and I thanked her and quickly escaped to get my clothes back on. I cupped my breasts marked with red lines and consoled them that they would not have to undergo that again for a whole year.

Perhaps I will treat the twins to a nice new bra for their troubles.