Face your fear
I finally faced my fears and got a mammogram. I believe in being proactive about health. However, I feared the pain of the test. I walked in and was shown my gown and locker for the exam. Minutes later, I was ready to show the girls. There is no uncomfortableness with the disrobing. Instead, I faced the steel and glass machine and thought, "I fear you more than a dentist's drill." My fears were actually truth based. The attendant efficiently grabbed my breast and began smashing/pressing my breast trying to get enough tissue to fit in the machine. I thought, this would be a good time to have a nice rack. Instead, she mashed and squeezed them with the machine (COLD, COLD!). Phewww, I thought I was done until required to do another angle. It was over quickly. I looked down to see red lines engraved from SHOULDER to MID-CHEST! I was an x-man for breast health. So, go face your fears and do something healthy.
Comments
Let me tell you what I do in the dentist's chair and in this situation (I actually fear the dentist drill more). ... I dig my fingernails into the palm of my hand. That way, I redirect my attention to pain that I am in control of. Yes, I end up with painful palms, but I have short fingernails so it is worth it to shift the pain, and I am convinced it helps me defy the laws of time and makes uncomfortable procedures go faster.
The First Time's Always the Worst
The first mammogram is the worst. Especially when the machine catches on fire.
That's what happened to me. The technician, Gail, positioned me exactly as she wanted me (think a really complicated game of Twister - right hand on the blue, left shoulder on the yellow, right breast as far away as humanly possible from the rest of your body). Then she clamped the machine down so tight, I think my breast actually turned inside out. I'm pretty sure Victoria's Secret doesn't have a bra for that.
Suddenly, there was a loud popping noise. I looked down at my right breast to make sure it hadn't exploded. Nope, it was still flat as a pancake and still attached to my body.
"Oh no!" Gail said loudly. These are perhaps, the words you least want to hear from any health professional. Suddenly, she came flying past me, her lab coat whipping behind her, on her way out the door. She yelled over her shoulder, "The machine's on fire, I'm going to get help!"
OK, I was wrong, 'The machine's on fire,' are the worst words you can hear from a health professional. Especially if you're all alone and semi-permanently attached to A MACHINE and don't know if it's THE MACHINE in question.
I struggled for a few seconds trying to get free, but even Houdini couldn't have escaped. I decided to go to plan B: yelling at the top of my lung (the one that was still working).
I hadn't seen anything on fire, so my panic hadn't quite reached epic proportions. But then I started to smell smoke coming from behind the partition. "This is ridiculous," I thought. I can't die like this. What would they put in my obituary? Cause of death: breast entrapment?
I may have inhaled some fumes because I started to hallucinate. An imaginary fireman rushed in with a firehose and a hatchet. "Howdy, ma'am," he said. "What's happened here?" he asked, averting his eyes.
"My breasts were too hot for the machine," I quipped, as my imaginary fireman ran out of the room again. "This is gonna take the Jaws of Life!"
In reality, Gail returned with a fire extinguisher and put out the fire. She gave me a big smile and released me from the machine.
"Sorry! That's the first time that's ever happened. Why don't you take a few minutes to relax before we finish up?"
I think that's what she said. I was running across the parking lot in my backless paper gown at the time. After I'd relaxed for a few years, I figured I might go back. But I was bringing my own fire extinguisher.