Squish!

Among the appointments I had in a very busy work-week, I squeezed in my routine mammogram. Or as I like to joke among the ladies at work, "I took a break from the office to go SQUISH!"

Between my personal biology and family history, I've a number of medical "factors" that create high breast-cancer risk, so I dutifully go at least once per year - often once every six months, as they continually find new and exciting things in those black and white images - starting with my baseline when I was 35 years of age.

Am I worried that I'll get breast cancer? No.

Odds are I will get it. It's a matter of when rather than if. But I'm not worried at all. Really!

My mother, in her 70's, is a breast cancer survivor, both breasts; she was diagnosed in her very early 40's. It's actually one of the most treatable forms of cancer; one just needs to go for checkups and routine exams. The earlier anything is caught, the better the chances. The rest is all about attitude!

Do I have it now? I don't know. They are watching suspicious masses that bounce along with me on a daily basis. I await the official reading from the medical techs at the hospital and the standard letter that indicates if they want me to follow up the breast surgeon (again).

There are women that panic and swear they are going to die from the minute anything remotely suggests breast cancer. This is even before the first biopsy. In my family, we look the doctor in the eye and say, "OK. What are we going to do about it?"

If something does come of this or any new malformation, God and family will see me through.

I may suffer for a time; I may become sick. I may loose my hair. But it is something I can live through. I can get through acute chronic pain and sickness; the last few years have proven that.

There are worries I could have: How do I do my job while going through treatments? What if something were to go wrong? What if the treatment doesn't work? What if the cancer spreads?

What if I die...?

Should I even bother to worry about this? After all, I could get hit by a car walking home today with the same results.

I try to live every moment as if it's my last. I try to Let Go and Let GOD, giving God my Trust. And if I die, should I be worried? I have a pretty good idea where I am going...

No I am not worried. I understand that worry is a part of fear. I know that Fear is a tool of the adversary to hinder our spirits. I do not fear this - at all.

I have seen devastating results when people do fear it.

But I look fear in the eye and laugh at it!

Let's see how far they can turn my double-D's into pancakes before they squish out the other side of the machine. :P

After all, they have already sagged a bit over the years...

~ ESA

Squish Humor

This is a humorous story I've seen by email, online and taped to the back of the door where I get my mammography. I wanted to share it with my readers as humor... not as a suggestion (especially the ending).

There was a lengthy battle with my nerves after hearing horror stories from my friends. I never had a mammogram, and at 35 everyone said I just had to do it. I actually kept my appointment.

I chose a seat next to a man and his wife in the waiting room. Both the chairs and conversations were so comfortable that before long, I'd forgotten why I was there and asked the man, "So, what are you here for?" Talk about a show stopper.

Dead silence filled the room just as "Nurse Ratchet" stepped out to announce my name. I rushed past giggles, hurrying after the 'angel of mercy'.

Rounding the corner, I was met with, "Hi! I'm Belinda!" This perky clipboard-carrier smiled from ear to ear, tilted her head to one side and crooned, "Alllll I need you to do is step into this room right hereee, strip to the waist, thennn slip on this gown. Everything clearrrr?"

I'm thinking, "Belinda, try decaf. This isn't rocket science."

But before I could say a word, Belinda skipped away to prepare the torture chamber.

It's crazy; the machine transforms a perfectly healthy cup size of 36-B to a size 38- LONG in less than 60 seconds. 

Also, girls aren't made of sugar and spice and everything nice... it's Spandex! We can be stretched, pulled and twisted over a cold 4-inch piece of square glass and still pop back into shape.

With the left side finished, Belinda flipped me (literally) to the right and said, "Hmmmm. Can you stand on your tippy toes and lean in a tad so we can get everything?"

"Fine," I answered. I was freezing, bruised, and out of air, so why not use the remaining circulation in my legs and neck to finish me off?

My body was in a holding pattern that defied gravity (with one boob wedged between two 4-inch pieces of square glass) when we heard and felt the 'ZAP'!

There was complete darkness as the power went off.

"What?" I yelled.

"Oh, maintenance is working. Bet they hit a snag." Belinda chirped happily as she headed for the door.

"Excuse me! You're not leaving me in this vise alone are you?" I shouted.

Belinda kept going and said, "Oh, you fussy puppy... the door's wide open so you'll have the emergency hall lights. I'll be rightttt backkkk."

Before I could shout, "NOOOO!" she disappeared.

And that's exactly how Bubba and Earl, maintenance men extraordinaire, found me, half-naked with parts of me dangling from the 'jaws of life' and the other part smashed between glass!

After exchanging polite, "Hi, how's it going" type greetings, Bubba (or possibly Earl) asked, to my utter disbelief, "Did you know that the power is off?"

Trying to disguise my hysteria, I replied with as much calmness as possible. "Uh, yes... yes I did, thanks."

"You bet, take care," Bubba replied and waved good-bye as though we'd been standing in line at the grocery store.

Two hours later, Belinda breezes in wearing a sheepish grin and making no attempt to suppress her amusement. She said, "Oh, I am sooooo sorry! The power came back on and I totally forgot about you! And silly me, I went to lunch. Are we upset?"

And that, your Honor, is exactly how her head ended up between the clamps....

Squish!

As the caption reads, "Yes, I did have my mammogram today." Or as I like to joke among the ladies at work, "I took a break from the office to go SQUISH!"

Between my personal biology and family history, I've a number of medical "factors" that create high breast-cancer risk, so I dutifully go at least once per year - often once every six months, as they continually find new and exciting things in those black and white images - starting with my baseline when I was 35 years old.

Am I worried that I'll get breast cancer? No.

Odds are I will get it. It's a matter of when rather than if. But I'm not worried at all. Really!

My mother, in her 70's, is a breast cancer survivor, both breasts; she was diagnosed in her very early 40's. It's actually one of the most treatable forms of cancer; one just needs to go for checkups and routine exams. The earlier anything is caught, the better the chances. The rest is all about attitude!

Do I have it now? I don't know. The tech saw something this morning, and I now await the official "letter" to let me know if they want me to follow up the breast surgeon (again).

There are women that panic and swear they are going to die from the minute anything remotely suggests breast cancer. This is even before the first biopsy. In my family, we look the doctor in the eye and say, "OK. What are we going to do about it?"

If something does come of this newest malformation, God, family and friends will see me through. I may suffer for a time; I may become sick. I may loose my hair. But it is something I can live through.

I can get through acute chronic pain and sickness; the last few years have proven that. If anything, my biggest worry would be: How do I cover my workload while going through treatments?

What if something were to go wrong? What if the treatment doesn't work? What if the cancer spreads?

What if I die...?

Should I even bother to worry about this? After all, I could get hit by a car walking home today with the same results. I try to live every moment as if it's my last. I believe I am prepared, like the ready bride. And if I die, should I be worried? I have a pretty good idea where I am going...

No I am not worried. I understand that worry is a part of fear. I know that Fear is a tool of the adversary to hinder our spirits. I do not fear this - at all. But I have seen devastating results when people do fear it.

But I look fear in the eye and laugh at it!

Let's see how far they can turn my double-D's into pancakes before they squish out the other side of the machine. :P

They have already stretched over the years...

~ ESA