Today was the day that I went for my annual ‘knead and squeeze.’ Instead of just going to the local med center for my mammogram as I normally do, I opted to go to a private radiologist. The nurse at my gyno’s office recommended this one. The difference is that she performs digital mamms which are supposed to be more accurate, but I still had the Sisters flattened to a width of about 1.5 inches… and with my size Ds… there was a lot of squeezing going on.

The ladies that performed the mamm and ultrasound were great. The first technician warmed up the plates on the booby mashing machine with a heating pad, making them all toasty. The gel used during my ultrasound was brought to a nice warm temperature too. I was also given a lovely black silk smock with delicate Asian motif embroidery to cover my shoulders. All I needed was some mood music and a glass of wine.

The suspect spot I found was still there when I went in so I made sure to point this out to the technician. She obliged my concern with a little extra flattening, from an altogether different angle… diagonally. That was a new twist… pun intended.

The good news is that, aside from getting the official reading by the doctor, the two technicians said they didn’t see anything unusual and the spot I was worried about was most likely a fibroid or a mass of blood vessels. Because of my initial concern, and my family history of cancer and previous biopsy, my films were put in a red envelop, marking them a priority. I got to go the the head of the line to have the doctor read the results. Hopefully, that means I’ll hear something back later today or tomorrow.

I fear that I may have done a disservice with my prior post to those of you who have yet had your first mammogram, and unnecessarily scared the bejeezus out of a few of you. I’m not gonna lie, mamms hurt. They are NOT however excruciating, traumatic, or faint inducing. But anytime you have your tatas squeezed between two glass panes, both horizontally and vertically, it’s going to be more than a little uncomfortable. Having said that… don’t reject this first line of defense against breast cancer because you’re worried about a few minutes of discomfort… consider the alternative… suck it up, walk it off, and just do it already!

We are women. We have the highest threshold of pain on God’s green earth… a little booby mashing ain’t nothing! Your significant other has probably done worse in the throes of passion.