Last week I had a mammogram. My favbrit. But apparently I got an "F" on it because they called me this week and scheduled me to come in and have a redo, along with an ultra sound.So much for my new years resolution to stay out of Dr.'s Offices, thus not having to pay them.
I didn't let myself get too worked up about it, because I've been through this before.... while Timmers was having chemotherapy. It was a cyst then, so let's all conclude that it's a cyst now, right? I slept through the night with that thought rolling around my head. Along with this thought creeping around the edges: chemo by yourself...what a blast that would prove to be.
Yesterday I went in for the redo rodeo.
OK. I'm just telling you right here, right now, when you go in for the redo, the object is to smash you three times further with twice the grip. I seriously thought that when I stepped back from the mammography machine that I would look at the plate and I would be seeing my smashed mammo-grified part sitting there without me...like a skin tag removed with clippers. Mister, just thinking about that can smart like the dickens. Makes your spine curl, don't it?
Anyway, so as not to worry you any further, I got an A- on the redo, along with the ultra sound. I am fine.
.
Physically.
However, I didn't realize how worried I might of been about it until I woke up this morning with a headache. (And now you know TWO pieces of Hippa information about me.) It was one of those post stress headaches, the kind that you get when you are carrying around too much baggage
So I've kind of been babying myself today. Laying on the couch, watching TV, and I even treated myself to some chocolate covered almonds, because we Sisters deserve the Chocolate after having had double the mammograms in one week. It's the Mommacita rule.
Around 4 o'clock, I talk myself into going to the grocery store. I think I need strawberries. So I drag my headachy self to Winco. As soon as I get in the store, I discover I have to visit the ladies room. So off I go. As I'm washing my hands I look in the mirror, and in my reflection, right above the V in my V necked t-shirt I see a two bruises.
I'M BRUISED!
I'M BRUISED!
I AM BRUISED FROM A MAMMOGRAM!!!
THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS!!! I'M BRUISED!!!
Well I am just furious. I don't think we should go around bruising our Ladies there.
.
So I very lightly touch one of the bruises. As I run my finger over my skin, I notice that the bruise follows my finger. In fact, it was a bruise that transferred to the bottom of my finger. It was one of those transferring bruises? Wha?
It's Chocolate. Melted Melty Chocolate. I've been walking around in public with an ink blot stain made out of chocolate on my chest. And let's not even be discussing how an ink blot shaped chocolatey schmear was tattooed on me, front and center. I have endured enough trauma.
I am admitting I am far too ridiculous to ever again talk in a disparaging manner about people who frequent Walmart. Even if they have digestive issues and are standing by me in line.
.
And Schneebers, after hearing this story, I think you just might prefer that I wear my pajamas in public. You know. Instead of the plethora of alternatives.
9 comments:
First off, SO relieved about your A-.
Secondly: It is 4:16 in the morning here in PA and I, of course, cannot sleep. To insure I would not wake my bed-partner, I crept downstairs for some early morning blog reading to help pass the time. And now thanks to you Auntie Mommacita, I will not be falling back to sleep anytime soon. Eventually, I will tiptoe upstairs, and slip into bed. As my mind drifts, I will think of you and your chocolate bruises which will cause me to laugh and laugh, which I will do into my pillow so I don't wake my bed-partner, but it will be all for naught because we do not have one of those mattresses that you can jump on and not spill your wine glass. And just when I think I'm done laughing, I will laugh again. And again. Until the sun comes up.
Whew, glad to hear you passed the second test. That's good, no, great news!
I have to say I laughed until tears came out of my eyes just now about your chocolate bruise. I'll never look at bruises the same again...images of your chocolate "bruise" will again flit through my mind, bringing anew a fresh round of laugher.
OUCH! It's not enough to feel molested just by the prying hands of a doctor, but now we get to have a machine do it too!!
Hysterical laughter happening right here where I am. Oh, Mommacita, how you make me laugh! And I, too, am glad about the A-.
Well, I say you should just go with that you were celebrating not having to go through chemo alone or any other of the horrible indiginities that could have accompanied another F. That's right, wear as much chocolate on your chest area if you want, dab some behind your ears or use it as a self tanner. You deserve it with what you went through and with flying colors.
So relieved is right - the thought of you having to endure more boot, scooter or public pajama type issues was too much to bear.
chocolate boobies!?! Sounds good to me. And I'm relieved that there are no cancers in your Ladies. But if you did, Henry and I would come take care of you. No one in the G-lock family is ever going through cancer alone. Period.
Can you hear me laughing? I'm glad I didn't need to pee when I read this, or it would've meant more laundry for me. I will smear a little chocolate on my cleavies in your honor.
So glad you're ok....
But that post was one of the funniest I have ever read. First I was like, seriously - those machines BRUISE??? AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH. And then finding out it was chocolate - hysterical.
Gotta love modern medicine. (Here's my take:
http://tadpolesandteacups.blogspot.com/2007/12/big-squeeze.html )
Cathy
P.S. Glad you passed the make-up test.
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