Hold Your Breath!

I got my mammogram last week, and while I don't mind doing it, I'm always a little amused by the whole process. I'm sure it's not remotely funny if you're dealing with a health scare, but on run of the mill mammogram days I can't help but smile when I do it. Some women claim that it hurts. I've never had that experience, but perhaps you need more boob for that. The office that does my mammograms is wonderful. They are very caring and professional, and I get to wear this spiffy robe throughout the whole thing. They don't make you wait around forever for your results either. Within a few hours of mine, I had a text message saying mine was A-okay. Of course, that text was from Mrs. Scrubs who works in that office, but they were always prompt and doting before she started working there.


I guess it's a lack of maturity on my part because in all honesty, every time I step up to that mammogram machine, that old saying about gettin' your tit hung in a wringer goes through my head. Over and over again. Throughout the whole lift this arm, move forward, don't breathe thing. It's all I can do not to laugh. Then there's all the tugging and pulling, the mashing and smashing. I started to make some smart aleck comment to the nurse the other day about pulling taffy and then I thought better of it. Believe it or not, I do manage to stop this mouth from running overtime on a rare occasion. (And that noise you just heard was my husband snorting.)

Among the other thoughts that went through my head the other day was God bless the flat chested woman who has to endure the nurse trying to stretch every inch of flesh she can in between those two plates. And where's the lattes? Every other professional office is trying to wow me with their customer service these days by offering me a milky coffee I'm probably paying too much for, so why can't they? Oh, right, it's supposed to be about the TEST. Which brings me (finally) to my point. If we can spend so much time on figuring out ways to make medical tests much more pleasant like robes, and potpourri and mood music, why can't we spend a little more time on improving the tests themselves? There is probably a lot of research like that going on now that I just don't know about it, but it sure seems to take a long time for us to find a better way to probe the human body. Take the rectal thermometer and babies. How long did we use that method before someone finally said, "Let's just use the temperature in the ear and adjust our scale accordingly." I remember a time when I was a kid and mama would holler at me to go get the thermometer, and she'd have to remind me to pick up the oral thermometer, NOT the rectal thermometer. Wouldn't that be a bad mistake?

And then there's the way we come up with the ideas to begin with. Who decided that the best way to determine body temperature was to shove a glass capsule full of mercury up your backside? It's an issue that plagues us in these modern times. I'd love to have been seated at the table when someone in the group of people studying the colon said, "Hey! I got it. Let's give someone explosive diarrhea, clean 'em out real good and then run a camera up their fanny! They're gonna fart like crazy when it's over with, but I think it'll work." I'm not even gonna' touch on the issue of pap smears except to say that those little brushes may LOOK like Q-tips, but they don't FEEL like Q-tips.

A man is credited with developing the mammogram, which does not surprise me. No woman would have ever volunteered for getting her tit caught in a wringer...I mean, mash her boob really hard between two plates. I suspect that if we developed a prostate test that involved mashing the genitalia of a man between two plates and telling him to stand on his tiptoes and hold his breath, we'd have a better test within months. Now, wipe that visual image out of your brain with some eye bleach.

No doubt about it, medical care is invasive. It's humbling to be poked and prodded in the name of staying healthy. Just ask Papa T.. And I will gladly line up for my mammogram each year. But barring any surprises, I am just two and a half years away from my first colonoscopy, so I'm hoping they've developed a better way of performing that little chore before I have to have one. Besides, contrary to what I tell my family, I do not fart rainbows.

Bare Your Chest

Since yesterday’s post was so juvenile, I thought perhaps I should be a little more mature today. I don’t FEEL very mature, but I’ll try. Several folks have been posting this month about breast cancer awareness. I’m jumping on the bandwagon because I really care about this issue. Swamp Witch has a good series about her battle against breast cancer. You should check it out. Television is full of stories about survivors and treatments. It’s a regular mammogram fest on the morning news shows this month. And that’s a good thing, because some of you out there are still not taking the time to get the boob squash. As women, we often spend so much time taking care of those around us that we put off preventive health measures for ourselves, especially the tests that aren’t exactly pleasant. Can you say pap smear? I just had my mammogram, and it really was not bad. I swear. I don’t know why there are so many horror stories about those things. Granted, having your ta-ta pressed between two plates while holding your breath and standing perfectly still is not exactly comfortable, but it’s not THAT bad. I promise. Just close your eyes, bare your chest, pretend that you’re a twenty year old on spring break and that a crowd of bodacious, hot men are cheering you on. Ignore the fact that you are so old you have to lift your skirt to show your boobies. Or that you need reading glasses to fill out the paperwork. Just do it, and if you’re really good we’ll go for ice cream afterwards.

A couple of years ago, my mother got a call from a woman she had been BFF with since they were very young. Helen had been very sick for a few days and wanted mama’s help in getting to a doctor to see about her flu-like symptoms. Mama, a retired nurse, drove to Helen’s house and started helping her to get dressed. When Helen’s robe fell open a large lump in her breast was visible to the naked eye. Mama was alarmed and quizzed her about it, but Helen brushed it off and changed the subject back to her stomach. Mama told her she wasn’t nearly as concerned about the stomach as she was the lump and drove Helen directly to the emergency room. The ER doc had the same reaction when he saw Helen. Within two days Helen had been diagnosed with breast cancer and undergone surgery. It seems Helen had avoided regular check-ups and getting the lump checked out because she didn’t have health insurance and couldn’t afford it. In the weeks following her surgery, she fretted more over the cost of her treatments and how she would pay for it than over her body. She was sick with cancer, but she was made sicker by the worries over cost. The cancer had too big of a grip on her by the time they had found it. She never responded very well to the chemo and within months Helen was dead.

I could go on an on about the cost and quality of health care in this country and how the poor and middle class suffer because of it, but that’s a rant for another day. Today, I’m pitching the importance of preventive care. Thousands of women are diagnosed each year with breast cancer….and survive. But usually it’s because they caught it early through self exams, a visit to the gynecologist or mammograms. I can’t help but think Helen might be alive today if she had been to the doctor much earlier. So ladies, I encourage you to tie one on (a pink ribbon that is) this month and schedule your mammogram if you haven’t already. When you get to the boobie smasher, close your eyes. Envision yourself on a balcony in the French Quarter. It’s Mardi Gras, and the crowd below is shouting at you. Go ahead, fling open your robe with gusto. Just don’t expect the nurse to throw you any beads when it’s over. Hmm. That was almost mature, don’t you think?