Thursday, July 06, 2006
A Pleasant Surprise and An Unpleasant Squeeze
It was especially pleasant because I had just come from my husband's office where I was the lucky recipient of a coned down compression magnification mammogram on my right breast, where a tiny spot had been spied on my regular mammogram last week.
For those women fortunate enough to have escaped the experience and for my non-medical male readers, a coned down compression magnification mammogram is essentially having one's breast squeezed in a vice-like device until you say "uncle" to the technician who is applying the force . At that time, she leaves you there tethered to a machine by your breast, which has now been squeezed into a freakishly thin shape. She tells you to hold your breath and takes an x-ray. This is repeated several times, without the offer of even a cocktail, which, I think would be the least they could do.
After that, I had an ultrasound which was like heaven in comparison. And after that, one of my husband's partners came in and told me that I had a small cyst and didn't have anything to worry about. I told him that the only thing I had been worried about was the awkwardness of having him have to feel me up should the tests show something else. Cancer? Definitely came in second to that concern.
It isn't that I am a prude, especially when it comes to medical exams. After all, I had a baby, remember? And there isn't anything I can think of that rids one of physical modesty like that does. (The only thing that comes close is my recent "Extreme Parisian" bikini wax, but that is a topic for another post.)
If I had spectacular breasts - and my longtime readers and those with first hand knowledge know I do not - I might not mind an associate of my husband having to handle them. But, things being what they are, I'm happy to keep my breasts to myself and my spouse, thank-you-very-much.