Mammograms and other Instruments of Torture

When I woke up this morning and saw the storm still raging outside, my first thought was “Darn! Bad day for a mammogram.”  But who was I kidding? When is a good day to have your breasts squashed in a modern day instrument of torture?

I had been putting off this routine exam but the appointment had been made and I couldn’t phone and say that I wasn’t able to come because it was raining, now could I? This was not my first time, so I knew what to expect, not that that made it any more of a pleasant prospect. Judging from the cartoons and articles stuck to the wall in the exam room, my feelings are universal – at least with the female half of the universe.

One article recommends preparing for your mammogram by doing the following three exercises:

·         opening the fridge door, inserting your breast and then getting someone to slam the door closed;
·         going to the garage at 3 am, lying down on the floor while a friend backs up the car so that the             rear wheel compresses your breast;
·         freezing two metal bookends and then getting a stranger to squash them either side of your breast.

Remember you have to repeat on the other side.

For all the advances in medical science, you would have thought that someone had found a less primitive diagnostic measure. For sure, this must have been designed by a man, and his offspring are probably in the support undergarment business. If breastfeeding hasn’t changed your breasts beyond recognition, a mammogram surely will.

The young woman who was attending to me was as nice as she could possibly be - she even tried to warm the machine by placing a hot water bottle on it just before she attempted to flatten my breast. First I had to stand facing the machine while I coyly turned my head and had the first picture taken – we didn’t know each well enough yet...

Then I had to contort myself, sidling sideways up to the machine and draping my arm over it while the other arm was bent, hand on hip, looking for all the world like I was trying to proposition the darn machine...as if that would have helped. Then I had to turn my feet towards the machine and my face in the opposite direction, feigning disinterest.  

While my body was thus contorted my breast was manhandled (or rather woman-handled in this case, and mercifully so) into the machine.  When I was told to breathe in and hold my breath I realised why I go to yoga three times a week. I knew there was a higher purpose for my weekly discipline.

Jokes aside though...breast cancer is on the increase - a mammogram is a screening test for someone without any symptoms so that problems may be detected early. 

Do check your breasts regularly and have annual gynae checkups!