Notes from a Routine Mammogram

So, I had a mammogram yesterday and everything’s fine — hooray! Here are a few notes on the experience…

You can try to prepare yourself for your mammogram by slamming your ass cheeks into a file cabinet but it’s not really the same thing.

A funny joke: you are not allowed to wear deodorant on the day of your mammogram. Sorry, Philadelphia! This was a freak 70-degree day in December, no less. My armpits wept all day in nervous anticipation.

The woozy backing vocals on “Blue Christmas” disorient me in the women’s imaging waiting room as I try to discern ages and wig status.

The next song is the comically tone-deaf “Wonderful Christmastime.” A beautiful older cancer patient flashes me an ain’t-this-a-bitch smile. I hated this song before, but now it seems taunting.

In the romantically lit imaging room, I try to bargain with the tech. “If I yell, will you stop?” I ask.
“I can stop, but you won’t get the image,” she says, quickly ending the discussion.

Important: do NOT look at your mammogram images on the screen. You are (probably) not a radiologist. It may as well be a photo of a snow globe. That clustering of white you see above your nipple? A snow squall, move along.

In another room, which I’m calling the topless lounge (ok, we’re wearing drapes), there’s a copy of Elle magazine from when I was there 4 YEARS AGO! This is my third waiting room in an hour. This one, for the test results, is the toughest wait. “The Bold and the Beautiful” plays on the TV screen. I remember it from my childhood. Seems Eric and Stephanie still have a very codependent relationship.

The results! In the moment after I am told that all is well I feel like one of those inflatable tube men outside a car dealership. I shoot up so fast I am maybe eight feet tall and I am hot pink with fiery relief.

Afterward, I see the only other youngish woman in the mammography unit out on the street, where a man walking by TOLD HER TO SMILE! And I briefly considered violence.

I am done with all of this for another year. Will it get easier? Will I continue to be lucky? Will that smug man ever tell the wrong woman to smile and get suplexed on the sidewalk in front of cheering onlookers?