Squishy Bits

 Had my Mammogram today.

That single sentence conjures up a laugh, a smirk, a slight pit in your stomach and a shrug with that feeling it's not a big deal. Manny is old enough to have a discussion about it with me without feeling embarrassed or rolling his eyes, but even he had a clip from 'House' to play to me and laugh over.

I have been having mammograms annually for the last ten years. The first one was obviously excruciating because it was the first time and for an, ahem, well endowed person like me, getting all the squishy bits on the machine was a task and then they sandwich it between two X-ray plates...whoa!! The unease! Memorable! And to top it all, they called me on a Friday afternoon telling me that they found some irregularities and wanted me to come over for another mammogram and if needed, an ultrasound. And the earliest appointment they had was on Monday morning. Wait a minute, I remember writing about this in a blog post from looooong ago...anyway, it is a new experience every time, so I'll keep going. 

That was my worst weekend ever. You worry about not just yourself, but your family. You imagine their struggles with you gone forever. Your kids are still small and you know your husband would be devastated. I was 41 then and the fact that you might have a terminal disease was a horrendous thing to face and my entire weekend was misery. But come Monday, I went in, was given the all clear, and then I went on a tirade with my PCP about the thoughtlessness of the scheduling personnel who left me hanging for an entire two days with the worst fear ever. So she referred me to another imaging place where they have mammograms as well as ultrasound  facilities available, so that, if a mammogram is iffy, you are sent right away for the ultrasound and then things proceed from there.

So starting 2015, I've been going to the same place and have become comfortable walking in there. I've been lucky for a few years when I've had the same technician who squishes my bits every year. But every single year, you stand there having the procedure done, and wonder, is this the year you are going to be caught? And this year my appointment was for a Friday the thirteenth, ha! Considering the fact that breast cancer is pretty prevalent these days and I do have a family history(well, one unmarried aunt in her late 60s, but still) of the thing, you are never sure. A very close friend of mine is a survivor and I know a couple of other acquaintances who have been through the struggle.

So you stand there, holding your breath like they ask you to and wonder. You look anywhere but at the machine doing its thing and think of other things to keep you from freaking out and your ears are sharpened to figure out if the technician takes a quick breath in. You try to look at her, does her facial expression change? Does she look worried all of a sudden?

 I remember they used to have the screen up where you can see it until a few years ago, I remember looking at the images with no expertise whatever and trying to make sense of it. Does it seem ok? Are those white patches normal? Luckily they've taken the screens away and so I don't have to freak out at stuff I know nothing about. 

A mammogram is a weird procedure, you have a stranger touch you very intimately and you are supposed to keep a straight face. Generally there is an air of embarrassment in the room, which is remedied by the technician's light banter. Today she asked me what my plans for the weekend was. Mindless replies, questions about your kids...more standard replies. She, it is always a she, thank God, walks away to do her thing at the screen and you wait to see if she stops talking. Does her tone change? Worried voice? I sound like a sissy, but this is me at my mammogram every year. 

Today, she wanted a repeat of one scan and my heart was on the floor. Damn!! I'm starting to freak out. But deep breaths in, hold your breath for the machine to scan and its done.

She is typing away and after a few minutes, tells me she has sent it to the in house radiologist and will be back with my results. And then she says, " You can change into your clothes, I'll be back." and walks away. That's when you notice that you have been holding your breath in all that time. If they do not need follow up images, that is a good sign. She can actually see my past scans and if she cannot pick up any anomalies, there is a good chance that radiologist cannot either. While she cannot give me the all clear because she is a mere technician, she can atleast set my mind at ease. Which she did in the subtlest way possible, "Change into your clothes".

Two minutes later, official paper saying my scan was clear in hand, she walks in, gives me the all clear, wishes me  a happy weekend and ushers me out.

And I walk out into the sunshine, and get in my car and drive home. Rinse and repeat, next year and the year after and on and on.

But there might be a woman walking in today who will be asked to stay longer, have more tests and given a referral for further tests or for an Oncologist. Someone for whom, today marks a before and after segue.

And so, thank God for his mercy and grace and care. He gives us burdens we can bear, and the strength to bear them, and the faith to fight the good fight.