Jun
21
For my mammogram appointment yesterday I started things off strong by parking in the wrong building. Not a super big deal except I am less familiar with this parking garage and thus spent some time wandering a backrooms-esque structure 1) when I arrived while looking for the entrance, and 2) when I left, having misplaced my car’s location entirely.
When I got to the imaging center I was checked in by a very young man who was friendly but a little awkward/nervous-seeming and when he walked me in I briefly thought that it would be him doing the scanning and we would surely both perish of embarrassment. But no, I just had to wait in an interior area for a minute before a female tech came and got me.
I could swear the last time I had one there was a little curtain for changing and I wore some sort of open gown situation on my upper half, but this time there was a chair to put my stuff on and that was it! Just strip to the waist and stand by the machine. That certainly felt vulnerable but it did expedite the process because we got down to business right away.
If you haven’t had a mammogram the idea is to get your breast tissue allllll the way onto this flat surface and then a clear lid of sorts gets hand-cranked down until your boob takes on a shape you have never seen it in before. Think flapjack. Meanwhile you get micro-adjusted by the technician until your body is in the right position where it kind of feels like you’re in a weirdly intimate slow-dance with this giant machine and then you have to hold your breath briefly and it does its thing and then you do the other breast, and then the machine tilts carnival-ride-style into a new angle and you do it all over again.
The tech was efficient and easy to chat with and she said it was much more difficult when there’s not much to grab onto, and that her team had agreed that the right tool for the job would be a spatula, but “you know…a medical type of spatula. People feel weird enough without someone using a kitchen tool.”
Now I personally think it would be funny/delightful if imaging centers had a bunch of OXO Good Grips spatulas that were perhaps staff-decorated with festive ribbons and stickers and those were set aside for the A-cup crowd, but sadly I was not brought in as a medical device consultant. (Which is too bad because surely it is beyond past time for fresh ideas regarding cold metal speculums.)
The upside of having this appointment on a sunny Saturday afternoon was that very few people were around, which lent a peaceful feeling to the overall hospital environment and thankfully no one to observe me bumbling confusedly back and forth like Pulp Fiction John Travolta trying to find my goddamned car afterwards.
Jun
20
I wish I could mix a bit of the endlessness of January into this month because time is flying right by. This summer is going to be in the rearview before I know it and then it will be fall and my youngest will be off to college and then it will be the holidays again hellllllp.
Well do not fear that I am not making the most of Oregon’s precious summer months for today I have a mammogram appointment! They have sent me approximately four thousand notifications about it and each time I have been semi-convinced that they have the date wrong because who has a mammogram on a Saturday? But upon checking it appears that the imaging center is open all weekend so that’s good news for everyone but the staff and the dignity of my boobs.
I do feel bad for those from the small titty committee because I’m sure the process is even more awkward when you don’t have much to work with but thankfully (?) I have bountiful non-taut funbags (fun not guaranteed) and probably they could yank all my business over and get the scans they need while I stood in the doorway and scrolled my phone. As I recall the only uncomfortable part is when the machine squishes you in a vise clamp and there’s a brief moment that’s similar to when you wonder if the blood pressure cuff is going to tighten forever until it amputates your arm, although of course there’s also the part where they’re like YOU DIDN’T WEAR DEODORANT DID YOU??? and also the part where your sad little pile of clothes sits there with the bra carefully hidden between layers as though someone was going to yank it out and parade it through the waiting room.
Age gracefully, people say, but there are so many non graceful aspects of it! How about all these skin tags, for one thing. Or the deal where I have to hold objects at arm’s length while scrunching my face like Gilbert Godfried or I can’t see jack shit. What about that time I had to poop in a box and mail it off to be evaluated??? I feel like every yearly checkup is now just a list of things I need to have tested to make sure my warranties aren’t running out yet, along with a reminder to get my shingles vaccine already.
And I know it’s convenient to blame the patriarchy for everything but don’t you have the feeling that if men needed mammograms there would be like booths in drugstores where you step inside fully clothed and boop, it’s done, and you get a lollipop afterwards.
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