The Boob Smash
I had a mammogram today. It is a follow-up mammogram from a mammogram and ultrasound that I had 18 months ago. At that time, I had found a pretty big lump in my left breast and so they took lots of images and even some tissue samples to check it. It turned out to be a benign lump of who-knows-what and the doctor decided to leave it alone and just watch it. So, I had pictures taken of it today to check to see if it has changed or grown at all.
Even though I know it is totally ok, even though I am not really worried about it, there is still something sort of anxiety producing about having a mammogram. I spent the 2 hours in the waiting room today trying to figure out why that is. I am not anxious when I get a regular checkup at the doctor. But somehow the mammogram feels like it has a connection to my mortality - the results of a test like this really could change my life. And even though I know that is totally ok and there is probably nothing wrong, the possibility still exists.
And, of course, the test is just barbaric. I mean, seriously. They smash the boobs into the teeniest little state. The woman said to me, “Ok. Don’t move.” And I thought to myself, “Are you kidding me?! This hurts so bad I can barely breathe, how could I move. And why would I want to move - that could only make it hurt more!” But, it is only a few seconds of unbearable pain and if that means that I am taking good care of myself then I’m good with that.
