Tuesday, April 13, 2010

pancake breakfast

Did I tell you I got a mammogram?

Well, I did.

I was sitting (if that's what you call it) in the gyno's office when she began lecturing me about getting my first mammogram. Most women don't need them until they are in their forties. I, on the other hand, am blessed with a family history of breast cancer. Therefore, I get to begin the pleasure of boob squishing at a much earlier age than most.

I've been putting it off for a few years. The reason for this is stupid. It stems from something I once overheard about mammograms. I have a vivid memory of my aunt saying, "Mammogram? More like a pancake cook-off!"

Seriously, that image of my boob being flattened to a pancake stuck with me. Ow. And cook-off? Does it burn? Eek! Even though my own mother died from breast cancer, I kept letting the image of that damn pancake guide me.

Well, the gyno wasn't having any of that. "Listen," she said, "Do you want me to sit in here while you call and make the appointment? Because I'll do it if that's what it takes."

Geez! I thought gynos were supposed to lecture you about STDs and contraception, not irrational fears stemming from breakfast foods. "Fine, fine," I replied. "I'll go. I'll have my pancake and eat it, too."

So, I went. It wasn't that bad. Basically, you have to take off your shirt in front of a nurse. She looks at boobs all day, so it's no big deal. She puts your boob up on a shelf and then you have to lean in while a piece of plastic is lowered, lowered, lowered onto your boob, squishing it against the table. It really doesn't hurt. It's just uncomfortable.

In all honesty, the worst part is that I wasn't allowed to wear deodorant. Not only do I live in Florida, but I'm part Italian. I don't sweat, I ssswwweeeaaattt. I stashed deodorant in the car to use when I left, but it had partially melted in the thirty minutes it took to get the mammy. So I drove home with soupy, freshly-scented pits.

Well, I thought no deodorant was the worst.

I really wasn't prepared for when they called me today, asking me to come back in for more testing. The radiologist saw something concerning on my film and they want to "investigate" further.

Pancakes, I can handle. But this?

6 comments:

dwhite said...

I had pancakes for breakfast this morning...now I'm conflicted. :P

Hope everything turns out okay!

Natalie said...

Keeping you in my prayers...

Sojourner said...

I'm so sorry to hear that you need to go back in.
I'm a stranger on the other side of the world, but know that I enjoy reading your posts, you're always entertaining, and I will be praying for you.

emilysuze said...

I would like to comment on the funniness of this blog post but feel awkward doing so because of the last paragraph. Are you doing okay? When do you go back in for this further pancake investigating?

Come to Washington for a girls week. :) Well, plus Baby P, but he doesn't count as a full-fledged adult yet since he hasn't mastered the winking...

The Working Girl said...

Thanks, y'all. I'm sure I'll be fine. I also have a family history of these types of scares resulting in "nothing", so that's good.

And Em, I know what you mean. I was conflicted whether or not to write about something serious with such a humorous take. But that's kind-of the way I live my life (by laughing at myself) so feel free to add some funny stuff.

I would also like to formally apologize to the pancake industry, for giving waffles the upper hand.

Shanel said...

I found your blog by just pressing next blog.... I like your sense of humor.