So Monday was my very first Mammogram and I must say...what an odd experience it was. I knew what to expect from all the literature and information there is about mammograms. I just didn't know how I would feel. Ever since I made the appointment, I found myself continually "checking" them to make sure they were all right. Much like men often do with their trouser occupants. The day of my appointment, as I was showering, I looked down at my chest.....way down...and actually told "the girls" they were about to experience the strangest test they will ever partake in. I honestly looked at them as if to see them for the last time before they were changed forever. These were virgin boobies, after all. Their insides would for the first time ever, be exposed and viewed by a complete and "udder" stranger who would interpret their state of being and determine their health status. Imagine that!
For me, the test was somewhat an humiliating experience. To be my size....in the plus category...and get felt up by a woman old enough to be your mom who says to you the minute you step in the door that she may have to take "extra" pictures of your boobs because of their size...well....it turns your self confidence to mush. Being a premiere mammo-test-taker, I wasn't sure what to expect or how things would feel to begin with. You see this tall machine humming softly in this closet sized room, with a set of clear acrylic bookends extended from the middle of it, and you start to feel skittish about the whole thing from the get go. To be told that my size makes me a candidate for more mashing, well it wasn't a sense of calm I felt.
The whole procedure takes 10 minutes from start to finish. Of course, my life often follows the Murphy's Law rule and halfway through the test the machine decides it won't clamp anymore boobies and has to be rebooted....which takes 15 minutes. Lucky me got to spend an entire half an hour with this unpleasant woman, listening to her drone on about the machines of yesterday and how hard it was to adjust to a totally digital way of testing...blah blah blah. Get me the hell out of here!
The machine finally reboots and is ready for more mashing. The manner in which my boobs were handled left me feeling squeezed and twisted.....not unlike the first time I let the neighbor boy put his hands on me when I was 13. The technician's hands were fast and furious as she placed a piece of tape with a metal bb in it on my nipple. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as she did this......looking to the heavens for a bolt of lightning to strike me dead right then and there and save me the embarrassment of this fondling. As she placed my boobs, one at a time, in the squeeze machine, she pushed my protruding belly back to get it out of the way, shoved my shoulder down and forward, and forced my head to rest on the plastic shield at the top of the machine. She would then tell me not to move and relax, and of course, this being the most natural of positions for me to be in, I would inch forward or to the side and she would have to reposition one of my girls. I even tried to help her on several occasions and she would push my hand away and tell me to let her do it. I couldn't do anything right!
After what seemed like hours, the ordeal was finally over. As I gathered my skimpy little hospital gown around me to try and regain some of the dignity that had been squeezed out of me by the machine, she handed me a form and told me that since it was my first mammogram, it was highly likely that my girls would have to return for another test or an ultrasound because the doctor has no reference pictures of my boobs to compare these pictures to! Dear Mother of God! Will this nightmare ever end??? All I could do was nod my head and clutch my gown as I headed for the doorway out of there. As an afterthought, the technician added "Oh, and because of your size too", as if I hadn't heard her first comment when I walked in half an hour ago. I didn't even look at her, I just grabbed the door handle and hurried to the changing area so that I could wrestle my girls into their proper receptacle and give them a chance to recover from the fondling of the day.
It wasn't until later that evening as I changed into my night clothes that I realized I was still traumatizing my mammies! You see, in my haste to get dressed and get the hell out of there, I had forgotten to take the bb tape off my nipples and must have looked like I had the chills at the grocery store I stopped at on my way home! Murphy's Law once again..that's my life.
For me, the test was somewhat an humiliating experience. To be my size....in the plus category...and get felt up by a woman old enough to be your mom who says to you the minute you step in the door that she may have to take "extra" pictures of your boobs because of their size...well....it turns your self confidence to mush. Being a premiere mammo-test-taker, I wasn't sure what to expect or how things would feel to begin with. You see this tall machine humming softly in this closet sized room, with a set of clear acrylic bookends extended from the middle of it, and you start to feel skittish about the whole thing from the get go. To be told that my size makes me a candidate for more mashing, well it wasn't a sense of calm I felt.
The whole procedure takes 10 minutes from start to finish. Of course, my life often follows the Murphy's Law rule and halfway through the test the machine decides it won't clamp anymore boobies and has to be rebooted....which takes 15 minutes. Lucky me got to spend an entire half an hour with this unpleasant woman, listening to her drone on about the machines of yesterday and how hard it was to adjust to a totally digital way of testing...blah blah blah. Get me the hell out of here!
The machine finally reboots and is ready for more mashing. The manner in which my boobs were handled left me feeling squeezed and twisted.....not unlike the first time I let the neighbor boy put his hands on me when I was 13. The technician's hands were fast and furious as she placed a piece of tape with a metal bb in it on my nipple. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as she did this......looking to the heavens for a bolt of lightning to strike me dead right then and there and save me the embarrassment of this fondling. As she placed my boobs, one at a time, in the squeeze machine, she pushed my protruding belly back to get it out of the way, shoved my shoulder down and forward, and forced my head to rest on the plastic shield at the top of the machine. She would then tell me not to move and relax, and of course, this being the most natural of positions for me to be in, I would inch forward or to the side and she would have to reposition one of my girls. I even tried to help her on several occasions and she would push my hand away and tell me to let her do it. I couldn't do anything right!
After what seemed like hours, the ordeal was finally over. As I gathered my skimpy little hospital gown around me to try and regain some of the dignity that had been squeezed out of me by the machine, she handed me a form and told me that since it was my first mammogram, it was highly likely that my girls would have to return for another test or an ultrasound because the doctor has no reference pictures of my boobs to compare these pictures to! Dear Mother of God! Will this nightmare ever end??? All I could do was nod my head and clutch my gown as I headed for the doorway out of there. As an afterthought, the technician added "Oh, and because of your size too", as if I hadn't heard her first comment when I walked in half an hour ago. I didn't even look at her, I just grabbed the door handle and hurried to the changing area so that I could wrestle my girls into their proper receptacle and give them a chance to recover from the fondling of the day.
It wasn't until later that evening as I changed into my night clothes that I realized I was still traumatizing my mammies! You see, in my haste to get dressed and get the hell out of there, I had forgotten to take the bb tape off my nipples and must have looked like I had the chills at the grocery store I stopped at on my way home! Murphy's Law once again..that's my life.
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