Let’s talk about my boobs: A mammogram story

Last week, I went for my second-ever mammogram. The first one scared the crap out of me – and yes, I did blog about it because I can’t keep my damn mouth shut about anything personal. Click here to read that humdinger of a story and then re-join me for the rest.

Did ya read it? Can I continue? Ok…

A year ago, I didn’t know what to expect, and was convinced that since I’ve always been ridiculously healthy up to my ripe old age of 40, this would be the moment when shit would hit the fan. Between the overhyped trauma of the experience and then the waiting in anticipation for the test results, it’s enough to drive a woman bonkers. I ran around that week kissing my family members, separating my worldly goods and completing my last will and testament.

Yes, this is what Fear does to a woman’s brain…

…until I received the clean bill of health. WOOSAH! Talk about a relief. My tits will continue to live on in infamy for another year. Praise Buddha.

…until I recently received the notice that I was due for my second mammogram. Much like receiving a letter from your tax accountant and dentist, you know it’s inevitable. Might as well put on your big girl panties and deal with it. And so I did, but this year it was very different, as in a good way. My radiologist was a broad who knew what she was doing; no chitchat, weird glances and attempts to mold my boobs into characters from a SpongeBob SquarePants episode. It was quick and (semi) painless. Bada-bing, Bada-boom. I was in and out in 15 minutes flat. But then there’s the waiting for the results…

GHAAAAA, the fucking waiting! Again, enough to choke an elephant. On top of the stress I already experience on a daily basis. Meh.

…until I received the most amazing letter in the mail today. “We are pleased to inform you that the results of your recent Mammography examination are normal.” Once again, I let out a sigh of relief, and actually shed a tear of joy. Because this year was once again different from the year before, on so many levels.

Earlier this year, I had a good friend diagnosed with breast cancer. A shocking diagnosis that took everyone by surprise. She elected to have a double mastectomy and eventually, reconstructive surgery. Her bravery amazes me. She is in her early 40’s, like me. She has young children and a loving husband, like me. She has a lifetime of baby raising and ass-kicking to do, like me. This shit hit really close to home and made me realize that something like this could happen to anyone, at any time. So despite my fear, I did what is necessary, for the sake of everyone involved. My reward was the letter I received today, stating that my results were normal.

Normal. A word that I actually detest, because it’s a far cry from who I really am. But in this case, it’s the most beautiful word I can hear. Once again, my tits will continue to live on in infamy for another year.

So how about you? How are your tits? Had them checked recently? Please do.

Namaste.

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