I cannot promise this will be my last post about boobs, but honestly I'm about to declare May 2012 as "Boob Month" on my blog. I thought this post would be the last one about boobs, but then I saw the controversial Time magazine cover and I might have to talk about that in the next post, I'm not sure yet. I'd be interested in hearing your opinions more than giving my own and I'm sure it's a hot topic in the blogosphere.
Now, back to my boobs! I went for my follow up and I have to say that I was pretty worried. This time, they put me in a special consultation room with a reclining chair for me to undress and wait and I immediately thought that meant they were most likely making me comfortable for the inevitable bad news. Then a lady who looked like she held an important position came in and told me not to be concerned if they did send me for the ultrasound after the new images, that it still would just be precautionary. I was sure I would be going. I was worried.
Being the sheeple (I read that term for religious people the other day and I love it) that I am, I of course thought that I should say a little prayer in my head before the "photo shoot" (another term I read today and love, thank you Cheryl) and that's when it got weird and I sent myself into another laugh attack. I cannot believe the idiotic prayer my brain chose.
It went like this: "In the name of Jesus, I just give this test to you today and I put my breast in your hands..."
Then it hit me. I busted out laughing. Oh my God, I just asked Jesus to grab my boob. I couldn't even finish the prayer because I couldn't stop giggling. I hadn't said it purposely that way in my head, but again, curse my sense of humor! That's how it came out without even thinking! How could I have possibly worded that prayer any worse? Then my mind went crazy.
Would God see the humor in my prayer? I hoped so. Or am I just headed straight for the fiery dungeons because my mind works that way? We're made in His image, right? So He's gotta have an awesome sense of humor. Don't be mad, Jesus. I didn't really mean to ask you to grab my boob!
I imagined Jesus hearing my prayer and doubling over with laughter, then straightening, facing his Father, and saying, "Can I, Dad? You did a great job on that pair." Then Jesus would laugh hysterically while saying, "I'm just messin' with ya! Oh, I crack myself up! Grab her boob! Like I would do that! Ha ha ha haahhahahaaha!" while God gives Jesus a "Don't you even think about it" stare and taps his toe in disapproval.
"Young Deity, go to your room!"
"Gosh, Dad, I was only kidding, gah!"
"Don't take my name in vain, young man!"
"I didn't, I just said, 'gah,' - I didn't mean you!"
"Don't give me any lip, young man."
"And don't take your own name in vain either!"
Somebody's probably really going to hate this post. I almost named it, "Jesus, Please Hold This Boob." Hey, I'm a Christian, but I am as real as they get. Deal with it, or go read another blog. Your hate mail will be "returned to sender".
Thankfully, I composed myself before the tech came to get me. I was relieved that it was only one breast this time. She positioned me and then funny part number two happened. She said, "Okay, now I'm going to have to just twist your breast for these just a little bit."
Great, she's literally giving me a titty-twister. Fellas, I know that even you have had a titty-twister at some point around fourth grade, but Lord Almighty, when they're squashing it AND simultaneously twisting it, crap-a-tootie! Finally, she finished and I went back for "the wait" while the radiologist looked at the images. I got to freak out again when she came back and announced "He said we need some more views using another paddle."
Great. This paddle has a circular thing that looks like the underside of a cup holder that isolates the area better. Then she got out a ruler and started taking measurements! I giggled again, thinking, "Okay, I know they're big, but really... it's no Guinness World Record or anything." I decided to keep that joke to myself. I didn't want to laugh because she was trying to be precise in pinpointing the area of concern and I didn't want more images and thus, more pain. Still, it seemed like she was making blueprints out of my boob measurements. Weird.
After a second long wait in the reclining chair, my reading of National Geographic was interrupted with word that all was well and I should come back in a year. I said, "What! I went through all that for it to be nothing?" She informed me that was a good thing. Everyone keeps asking me what it was and I don't have the slightest idea. All I know is that it's not of concern and really that's all I need to know right now. My concern is to figure out how to pay my 20% for the second mammo, radiologist, blah, blah, blah bills.
Whatever it was, I put it in Jesus' hands and it turned out okay after all, so I guess he did appreciate my sense of humor.
I do have a question for you women. I've had many, many people tell me they have had to go back a second time in recent years, since technology is better at detecting things, and then it turns out to be nothing. Have you noticed this with your mammograms if you've been getting them for a while? I think they need to streamline the process a bit so they're not unnecessarily causing women everywhere to be "stressed about the breast." Your thoughts?