MAMMOGRAM

That word elicits pictures in my mind of women telling their horror stories of how bad it hurt, or the ridiculous things the tech says to them while they are having it done. The word alone is enough to send shivers down the spine of any woman. Mammogram stories are kind of like birth stories. All gruesome and horrific with a touch of pride at how bad it was.

Well, I am here to tell you, that I had my first mammogram today(all normal, thank you, Jesus!), and it was a piece of cake, no problem, don't sweat it.

However the whole experience was a story worth telling, in my opinion.

I checked in at the "Breast Center" at Saint V's Hospital and sat down to wait to be called. Soon a tech came and called, "Miss Friesen!?!" I didn't mention that I have never been Miss Friesen, only Mrs. I followed her back and she showed me into a dressing room. This was not your ordinary dressing room that you would find at Macy's or Ross. This was a real room. A very small room, but a room nonetheless. Solid walls from floor to ceiling, with a solid wood door (oak, maybe?). In this room there was a shelf with spray crystal deodorant, wipes and Kleenex; a garbage was under the shelf; on the wall was a full length mirror; there was a built in bench with a cushion on it, next to the bench were two tall oak lockers. These lockers both had locks with keys hanging out of them and on the keys were those key rings that are like a telephone cord. The type you can put on your wrist so that you don't loose your keys. The mammogram tech said that I needed to undress from the waist up, put the gown on, tying it in the front and then she told me that I could either put my belongings in one of the lockers or that I could bring them with me.

I chose the locker.

Let me tell you, I loved that locker.

There is something so unwelcoming about going to the dentist or the doctor and you look around and there is not even a hook on the wall to hang a purse or a poofy winter coat. So you go to put the gown on and you try to put all of your stuff on the one chair in the room. As neatly as you try to stack things there on that pathetic chair (with underwear discreetly hidden under your pants) it usually all falls off in an unsightly mess on the floor.

Not at Saint V's Breast Center!

But wait! There is more! I haven't even told you about the gown yet!

Hospital gowns are made to be very unflattering. No matter how beautiful and healthy you are, a hospital gown will make you look pasty and like you suddenly gained 50 pounds. There is no way to be truly modest in one. There is always a gape somewhere and the material is so thin you don't need x-ray vision.

Not at Saint V's Breast Center!

The gown waiting on the bench in the dressing room was a blue mid thigh length robe. I must have seen 8-10 different women in these robes while I was there and we all looked respectable. They were even sort of flattering in a kimono sort of way.

So the nice woman tech came to get me. I walked down the hall feeling like a queen in my kimono with my key jangling at my wrist. She took me to a mammogram room and started asking me questions. I sort of freaked out as my doctor had said that I was to get an ultrasound and then if need be I would get a mamm. Well, this tech just dove right in for the mamm. At that point I was pitting out in my kimono because I was so nervous about having a mammogram. I was hoping that the ultrasound would be conclusive and that I would get to escape the mamm machine for at least 7 more years. She took me back to the waiting area while she got this all straightened out.

Now this was not the main waiting area, this was the waiting area for women in blue kimonos.
In this waiting room, there are four chairs sitting in a square facing each other. There are of course the magazines, but there is also a tv that was thankfully turned off. Right next to this sitting area is a coffee and tea bar where you can go and help yourself to whatever you would like to drink.

So I grabbed a magazine and plopped down in a chair in one of the four corners with three other women in the other chairs. We all sat there with our eyes glued to our magazines, pretending that we were just by ourselves or maybe waiting for a perm. But these chairs were set up in such a way that it looked like we were supposed to be having a great discussion with the other ladies, not sitting there pretending they didn't exist. I smiled at one lady and quickly looked away, not wanting anyone to see that I had broken protocol.

Pretty soon, I was taken back for the ultrasound. It showed nothing, so back to the waiting room until another tech came to get me for the mammogram. By that point, I had resigned myself to it and was very calm about it.

Something to know about me: I don't really like pain very much. I avoid it at all costs generally.

So, there I was, 33 years old, having my first mammogram.

And yes, it squeezed, but not bad. Yes, the tech acted like she was just pulling a book out of my chest to put it on the metal plate, but she was respectful with my book. Yes, after she had squeezed me in there and gone behind her protective shield, she told me to hold my breath which in the squeeziness was already being mostly held. But it doesn't take long and it didn't squeeze too hard.

First the mamm machine squeezed it like = then the tech made it do a little spin and she squeezed me in it again like .

When I was all done, back to that silly waiting room again. This time, an elderly woman came toddling in saying that she had left her cup of coffee there earlier. I pointed and said, "Here it is!" with a cheesy smile on my face, happy that someone had broken the silence. She sat down and we continued our silent magazine reading vigil.

Then, a different hospital person of some sort came and said, "Miss Friesen!?!" We went to my little dressing room and closed the door. There she told me that all was well (hoooray!) and that I don't need another mammogram until I am 40.

Something to look forward to!