A Rite of Passage

I had my first mammogram today. My old OB had wanted me to have one when I was 35, but I said no way and decided to wait until I turned 40. Well - now that 40 is upon me it was time. I probably would have procrastinated (I am good at that) for a while but my mom decided we would bond together over mammograms. She actually made my appointment for me, and so I decided it was best to get in the car when she pulled in my driveway to pick me up.

I must say it was no big deal. I wasn't the least bit worried about it, but I didn't really know what to expect. After we checked in, we were called back to a waiting room and showed into an area where they had individual changing rooms stocked with lovely blue paper short gowns. They make you undress from the waist up and then put the gown on. I obeyed the orders and went back into the main waiting room. I wanted to take pictures of mom and I in our matching gowns for our Facebook pages but I decided some might get offended. The room we waited in was stocked kind of like a spa. It had decaf coffee with a cinnamon flavor, hot water for cocoa or tea, ice water, muffins and candy. It had a flatscreen tv on the wall and plenty of magazines to look at. If they had a sauna or steam room I might have stayed all day. Unfortunately, the wait was a very short wait one and the spa similarities ended there.

From here on I'll spare the gory details, but let's just say this might be the first time in my life where I enjoyed having a somewhat large chest. I think if you have something for the technician to actually work with it doesn't really hurt. For anyone that is flat-chested I imagine it might be a little painful, or at the very least uncomfortable, as your skin is pulled, stretched, lifted and then flattened like a pancake. As I said, it didn't hurt at all, it was just a little awkward standing topless having a stranger lift your boobs onto a shelf.

One of my friends told me her technician asked her if she had implants. I don't think you would ask someone that unless you actually couldn't tell if they were real or not. Unfortunately nobody asked me that today. I guess the fact that my boobs hang down to my waist is a dead giveaway that they are as real as they come. You are not allowed to wear deodarant when you have a mammpgram, and so the changing room is stocked with spray deodarant for you to use when you are finished (another spa-like similarity.)

All in all my rite of passage into 40 was pretty uneventful. I am glad to say I can check this off my list of things to do and can stay away from mammograms until age 45.