Mammograms, Manograms and Jelly Fish....

Yesterday I was feeling a bit stressed. I had a case of pre-visit anxiety. My Dad and my Step Mom were coming to visit Friday night, and while I love seeing them, I tend to work myself up into a spiral before their arrival trying to insure that everything is just right. Do I have clean towels, sheets; coffee for my dad (we don’t drink coffee in our house)? Do the dogs smell fresh or like week old socks?  Is the clutter appropriately hidden and are the bathrooms clean? While I know they aren't coming to see me or inspect the condition of my house, I guess we never outgrow the child that always wants to inspire pride in our parents.

On top of that I was finally heading back to the radiologist for my mammogram, and since it was my first one, I was a little apprehensive about the procedure. I kept trying to imagine what the procedure would entail and particularly tried to visualize my breasts as the "squished pancakes" I had been told they would remind of me of while they were being photographed, but I surprisingly wasn't worried about unpleasant findings; I had no familial history of breast cancer and I could feel no lumps in a self-exam. I also knew that didn't preclude me from needing the exam. The thought of baring my breasts to be flattened in some sort of imagined medieval X-Ray machine was still intimidating me.

I arrived very early this time, not to risk being bumped again, filled out the Mammogram Questionnaire and then waited my turn. I was pleasantly surprised when I was actually called early. I entered the room and the technician told me to remove my top and bra, and then put on the robe that was provided. I waited for her to exit, only to realize she wasn't going to. I wasn't particularly modest, but typically for any other appointments I had been to which required disrobing, the attendants always allowed you privacy to change into the robe first, and would sometimes even get offended if you started changing before they left. It occurred to me after the procedure, however,  that this was probably a technique the technician used to start getting you over any awkwardness a little more quickly. This way you wouldn't be nearly as uncomfortable when she actually exposed and handled your breasts to position them correctly in the mammogram machine. Since I didn't know this going in, however, I was a little at a loss at first as to whether or not I should start undressing or wait for her to exit. When I finally determined she was waiting for me to start disrobing, I awkwardly began the process. I was so rattled I managed to drop my necklace behind a desk, and ended up climbing around half naked on all fours while trying to pull on the Houdini X-Ray Robe and retrieve my necklace at the same time.

I did manage to almost complete the mission when the tech instructed me not to be concerned with putting on the right arm of my robe since I needed it off for the procedure. I was a little dismayed that she hadn't mentioned this earlier, but guessed that she had enjoyed watching me struggle, and after I truly understood what she did all day for a living, I could certainly understand her desire for a little levity. I'm not sure I can adequately describe the next events. I can only say that because the machine I was on wasn't working correctly what would normally have taken four times of repositioning my breast into a machine that slowly compresses the flesh into a flattened version of what it once was, took about eight attempts. While one position was definitely uncomfortable, I found the second position to actually be somewhat painful. Fortunately the compressions only lasted for a short time each.

Despite the little bit of fun at my expense, the tech was very respectful during the actual procedure which helped tremendously since she had to reposition my breasts eight times. I did catch a glimpse of one of my X-rays, and decided my breast looked much like a jelly fish, hopefully one without any lumps inside. As far as"Squished pancakes", they actually reminded me more of the flattened chicken breasts, but I guess every one has their own visual, and this visual actually proved to be my stress reliever for the remainder of the day, as I found myself giggling afterwards at the whole experience. 

I have to say I believe whole heartedly in the screening process, and I realize we have come a long, long way in breast cancer research and prevention, but I did find myself thinking that if men had to have a yearly exam where their manly parts were squished in a strange machine while a stranger handled the placement, they would quickly find an affordable and more comfortable alternative...no offense meant to men, I just think unless you've experienced it, you wouldn't really understand the experience enough to understand why it might be something worth changing. This was confirmed by my mammogram technician who said she didn't truly understand the experience until she had her first one even though she had been giving them for years at that point. More perplexing, I was a little dismayed to learn from a friend that there are actually other solutions out there that have proven to be more effective as a diagnostic tool, but are not being utilized as the standard. It seems they are either more expensive and are only used once cancer is suspected or completely unavailable because hospitals have not made the investment in the equipment. A little squishing is certainly better than the alternative, but perhaps in time, the medical community will appreciate our breasts enough to move from the medieval to the modern.