Yes, I am writing a mammography post!
Woohoo! I have arrived.
Since my mom had breast cancer and was under 50 when she
was diagnosed, I have been getting mammo's since I am 35....
Yeah, I have had a few.
I know the controversy.
Even my mom's cancer didn't show up on two
mammograms.
But I will take a false positive, or "suspicious"
area over NOT finding something that is there any
day.
(and please dear friends who may read this,
the life you save may be your own.)
The only thing I was dreading today, was the changing.
You see, in the small town "imaging center" I go to,
the practice was that you simply dis-robed in the radiology room.
Yes, right in front of the technician.
No screen, no privacy.
Nice chair, pretty little table.
Dress and undress.
Now I am no prude.
Really don't mind other women noticing my breasts,
I was a bit more conscience of my weight when I did,
but
there is a huge different between simple opening a gown
that you put on in the other room to reveal yourself,
and actually removing your clothes in front of another person.
I really used to feel I should have been at least offered a drink first!
Transported me straight back to
Junior High gym faster than you can say,
try to stand behind your locker door.
As I undress, do I nicely fold each item,
or just toss them on the chair?
There were no gowns,
I then stood waiting to be told what to do,
top-less.
Yeah, try to act casual.
Then there was the entire, getting dressed again thing.
Donning a bra in front of another person after a certain age,
can be quite entertaining actually.
Do you fluff? Not fluff?
(another topic entirely is really discovering
I have certainly reached a "certain age"
when I had to start fluffing, even at a B cup,
things don't quite "sit" where they used to!
I can remember watching my mom "fluff"
and thinking to myself how glad
I was that I never had to do that!
Well, here I am!)
Or do I simply throw everything on
in the interest of getting the heck out
of there, and fix it all in the car?
I don't even really let my own hubbie stand and watch me
put my bra on....remove, well that is another story...
but let's say I save him the visual of how the girls, even
at their diminutive size,
need a little help getting all perky and happy.
I can handle the squishing the boob thing,
that is all in the interest of my own health,
but the anticipation of the changing yet again,
was enough to make me sweat.
Imagine my wonderful surprise,
this year,
to be ushered into a nice new changing area and asked
to don a lover-ly hospital blue print gown!
Opening in the front please.
My pleasure!
I guess I was not the only one driven to angst with the changing.
So much more pleasant.
Then, because it is where my brain goes....
as I was standing waiting, in my lover-ly blue gown
wrapped around myself, twice....
for the nice technician to come back for me as promised....
something as simple as one of the strings still be knotted together...
caused my brain to go somewhere I didn't want it to go.
Because that means,
someone. else. wore. that. gown.
Like DUH,
but I have never really thought about it before.
Maybe took it off too quickly to take the time to untie.
Have you ever stopped to think about
who may have worn that hospital gown before you?
Someone sick.
In the hospital.
Or there for a test.
Someone perhaps that had found a lump.
Heaven forbid,
someone honestly truly could have
died. wearing. that. gown.
(the center is owned and run by the hospital,
I imagine the laundry is all done together)
Why on earth does my brain go to these places?
Believe it or not,
I was not as creeped out as I thought I would be,
they are laundered after all....
but I have never in all my years,
given it a thought to put one of those gowns on.
Thankfully,
I have not had to put many on.
So instead of letting my thoughts get the best of me,
I forced myself to pray for anyone
who may have worn that gown before me,
and anyone who may wear it after me.
Their families.
Their strength.
And it really made me feel good.
Then,
thankfully, the tech came and relieved me of my mental angst.
Nothing like a little physical angst
to take care of that!
I don't think I will ever think of a gown the
same way again.
Woohoo! I have arrived.
Since my mom had breast cancer and was under 50 when she
was diagnosed, I have been getting mammo's since I am 35....
Yeah, I have had a few.
I know the controversy.
Even my mom's cancer didn't show up on two
mammograms.
But I will take a false positive, or "suspicious"
area over NOT finding something that is there any
day.
(and please dear friends who may read this,
the life you save may be your own.)
The only thing I was dreading today, was the changing.
You see, in the small town "imaging center" I go to,
the practice was that you simply dis-robed in the radiology room.
Yes, right in front of the technician.
No screen, no privacy.
Nice chair, pretty little table.
Dress and undress.
Now I am no prude.
Really don't mind other women noticing my breasts,
I was a bit more conscience of my weight when I did,
but
there is a huge different between simple opening a gown
that you put on in the other room to reveal yourself,
and actually removing your clothes in front of another person.
I really used to feel I should have been at least offered a drink first!
Transported me straight back to
Junior High gym faster than you can say,
try to stand behind your locker door.
As I undress, do I nicely fold each item,
or just toss them on the chair?
There were no gowns,
I then stood waiting to be told what to do,
top-less.
Yeah, try to act casual.
Then there was the entire, getting dressed again thing.
Donning a bra in front of another person after a certain age,
can be quite entertaining actually.
Do you fluff? Not fluff?
(another topic entirely is really discovering
I have certainly reached a "certain age"
when I had to start fluffing, even at a B cup,
things don't quite "sit" where they used to!
I can remember watching my mom "fluff"
and thinking to myself how glad
I was that I never had to do that!
Well, here I am!)
Or do I simply throw everything on
in the interest of getting the heck out
of there, and fix it all in the car?
I don't even really let my own hubbie stand and watch me
put my bra on....remove, well that is another story...
but let's say I save him the visual of how the girls, even
at their diminutive size,
need a little help getting all perky and happy.
I can handle the squishing the boob thing,
that is all in the interest of my own health,
but the anticipation of the changing yet again,
was enough to make me sweat.
Imagine my wonderful surprise,
this year,
to be ushered into a nice new changing area and asked
to don a lover-ly hospital blue print gown!
Opening in the front please.
My pleasure!
I guess I was not the only one driven to angst with the changing.
So much more pleasant.
Then, because it is where my brain goes....
as I was standing waiting, in my lover-ly blue gown
wrapped around myself, twice....
for the nice technician to come back for me as promised....
something as simple as one of the strings still be knotted together...
caused my brain to go somewhere I didn't want it to go.
Because that means,
someone. else. wore. that. gown.
Like DUH,
but I have never really thought about it before.
Maybe took it off too quickly to take the time to untie.
Have you ever stopped to think about
who may have worn that hospital gown before you?
Someone sick.
In the hospital.
Or there for a test.
Someone perhaps that had found a lump.
Heaven forbid,
someone honestly truly could have
died. wearing. that. gown.
(the center is owned and run by the hospital,
I imagine the laundry is all done together)
Why on earth does my brain go to these places?
Believe it or not,
I was not as creeped out as I thought I would be,
they are laundered after all....
but I have never in all my years,
given it a thought to put one of those gowns on.
Thankfully,
I have not had to put many on.
So instead of letting my thoughts get the best of me,
I forced myself to pray for anyone
who may have worn that gown before me,
and anyone who may wear it after me.
Their families.
Their strength.
And it really made me feel good.
Then,
thankfully, the tech came and relieved me of my mental angst.
Nothing like a little physical angst
to take care of that!
I don't think I will ever think of a gown the
same way again.
1 comment:
First - GOOD FOR YOU!!! Since my own mother also went through breast cancer (still cancer free 19 years after her bilateral mastectomy) - I am too scared not to get them annually, myself.
Second - I honestly wish they'd just do away the stupid gowns that never stay on my practically non-existent shoulders anyway. Just let those girls flop freely...they're about to endure some major squishing, so they ought to be given a chance to run, jump and play beforehand, eh?!
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