Randumb-mammo

I know mammograms are not dumb. I know we are lucky to live in an age where such diagnostic tools are available. I know that scheduling my annual trip to the imaging center with my bosom buddy, Mary, is much better than going solo.

A couple of things are not important to note; however, I will do so anyway. My friend is not a giant, nor am I an elf. Rather, we were trying to make sure the Señorita Squishee machine was visible, causing me to crouch. My friend is not only cuter in person, but would also like it stated that she does not typically look so crazy. I reminded her that we were two women who make mammogram appointments together and commemorate the event with selfies. Crazy is relative. The large smiles indicate that our compression chamber time had already happened. Yes, we were cleared to leave. I admit to a certain little spring in my step once that weight is figuratively and literally taken off my chest.

I stopped at the store for some dinner ingredients, feeling rather proud of my productivity. About two miles from home, my cellphone rang. It was the imaging center. Obviously they were calling to confirm my fabulous test results, a slightly tedious, but worthwhile formality. Why was she taking so long to tell me to have a nice year? "The radiologist wants you to come back for some additional films of a density he saw in your left breast." (This is not meant to be a cliffhanger of any kind, as that would be cruel…everything is fine, Mom!) Excuse me? I have been called back in for additional shots before, while sitting in the holding booth in my gown…not when I am in transit to the comfort of my couch, giddy with relief. I found myself more concerned with my recently acquired frozen vegetables than turning the car around. I literally could not switch gears. 

I scheduled something for the next morning. I called Mary to lodge my complaint with the false sense of security I had been given when told everything looked good and I could leave. She asked if I was headed back as she would turn back and wait for me wait for me. I made no logical response. She asked me why I wouldn't increase my chances of being able to sleep that night by getting another appointment that same day. I knew she was right, but I think part of me was less frightened being angry at the woman who called me and the one who let me leave in the first place. I was able to get one of those "as soon as you can get back here" appointments, and picked up Mary on the way.

Small perk, I did not have to dig out my insurance card again. The lady asked a tech who was walking by if she'd mind taking me in, as I was a "callback". Sounds very theatrical or actressy doesn't it? I got the part! I asked her if we could pick up my moral support person from the line of chairs. She asked if she had an appointment as well. Um, well she did, an hour ago, with me…we book them together when we can.

The woman who had done my mammogram the first time walked by and smiled saying "Oh, you guys are back?" I did not trip her. 

Every time they tell you they are going to take another picture seems concerning. The wait for her to show her work to the radiologist seems long. Each word leaving her mouth seems to take forever to hit your ears, and the comprehension of those words is on its own delay as well. "Fine" "Overlapping tissue" "No ultrasound needed" I glanced over at Mary to make sure my urge to smile was appropriate, that I heard correctly. 

We had barely pulled out of the parking spot when Mary wrestled a container of chocolate covered cashew something or others out of her bag. We ate far more of them than usual, with not a single speck of guilt or wonder over what a serving size actually was. We were going to need that candy either way, but I obviously don't need to tell you how glad we were to be celebrating with it.

Is this Tuesday's post a little less random than usual? Yes. Is there a reason I shared it? Yes. If you are due, or overdue, for a mammogram, squeeze one in (pun intended). Go with a friend, bring snacks!