Yesterday, we dissected the YPE (yearly pelvic exam). It seems only fitting that we discuss mammograms today.
For this procedure, we are, nce again, asked to undress, though only our upper halves. A technician then takes our breasts and places them between two metal plates.
"Let me know if it hurts," the technician says.
Duh. Does anyone actually believe that having elderly breasts squeezed between two cold metal plates isn't going to hurt? Fortunately, I had prepared and had taken a half a dozen Vicodan before arriving.
While I doze in la-la land, the technician presses the plates together. My breasts know they should hurt, but they are in la-la land with me.
"You can get dressed now."
The technician leaves the room. I look down at my breasts. Where, before they had only sagged, now they sagged in a flattened manner.
Ah, well. They'll plump up again. A carton of Ben & Jerry's will see to that.
Please tell me, Ms. Vicodan, that you did not drive yourself home!
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