Monday, January 8, 2007

Thanks for the mammeries

Last week I experienced a rite of passage for women. Yea verily one would think with my advancing age (38--OLD according to the fruit of my womb) I would be beyond the wonderous rites of passage. Something happened on the way to the movies--(thankfully I should say) and that was the invention of medicine and all its wide wonders.

I walked into the office, a little nervous because like most women I'd heard the horror stories.

The women working in the office were quite friendly, probably snickering behind my back, guffawing in evilness, knowing what I was about to experience.

My friendly attendant showed me to a "dressing room" and handed me a strange contraption. It was a shirt of sorts; a wrap-around shirt with some puny excuses for ties and not a snap or button to be found.

"Take off all of your clothes from the waist up and put this on with the ties in front," she said.

I complied. Hanging my garments in the room I was careful to hide my unmentionables. Why, why do we (or am I the only one?) do this? Do we really think the embarrassment of any of these types of visits comes from the fact that someone we don't know will see a scrap of our clothing? I hid it all the same.

Into the next room. It housed some sort of station. Space? No. Gas? No. It was an x-ray machine (I think).

The friendly attendant told me to step up to the plexiglass shelf and open my shirt. She placed my breast on the shelf and I had to hold on to the safety bar (my name not their's) while she took a vise grip and lowered the second plexiglass shelf down and smashed/squeezed, compressed, flattened or otherwise mashed my breast.

I have to be honest here, she didn't really flatten it. It didn't really hurt much at all, seriously. It was uncomfortable, but not painful. It was odd to have someone handle your goods though, just flop them on the shelf like a butt roast or something.

The nice attendant did tell me that one reason it wasn't as bad as I thought is because I have ample breasts. Apparantely the smaller the boobs the more uncomfortable the procedure--less to squash.

So I say, thanks for the mammeries and thank goodness my first mammogram is over!

Why don't they have some sort of test where guys have to throw their peni (plural for penis of course) on a plexiglass shelf and have it smashed?


Anonymous said...

Has no man mentioned what they squeeze and poke fore and aft once a guy hits his 40's? While they're important exams, I know, I always feel the shame and embarrasement akin to unwisely chosen, humiliatingly degrading bad sex.

Last time I had it I just blushed and sighed...for days.

creative kerfuffle said...

The Hubs just has entered his 40s. I don't think he's had this done recently. At his last appt. I was lobbying for prostate/colonoscopy exams but the Dr. said that starts at 50s unless there's family history.

My question though is were you blushing and sighing the last time you had bad sex (is there such a thing?) or the last time you had the exam? : ) he he he

Anonymous said...

You are not the only one who tries to hide her unmentionables under their shirt in the dressing room. I do that at the doctor and when I get a massage. Silly, but it makes me feel better!

Glad you experience wasn't too bad!