Mammogram's - the new torture

I was happily living my life, happily married, to a wonderful man, with a beautiful 8 month old pup, when I went in for my yearly Mammogram and Ultrasound. I sat in the waiting room, this is like travelling on a train, you see that there is other people in there, but you don't actually look at them, you look near them, but never at them. You are waiting for your name to be called, trying to occupy yourself, like everyone else. I approached my appointment with my usual attitude of "no problem". Two years earlier I had discovered a lump, in my left breast, I had been told it was nothing but a normal Cyst, a benign lump, nothing to worry about. So you can imagine my surprise when this normal procedure suddenly became bigger than Ben Hur.


Mammogram's. Now there is a torture, that is endured by women all over the world, all ages and from all walks of life, who ever invented this machine, must of been a torturer by trade in a past life. This is one of the most uncomfortable and painful experiences a woman voluntarily puts herself through every year. I personally believe this is worse that childbirth. It also makes you feel extremely vulnerable, in many ways, but I will come back to this.


The procedure. You are asked prior to attending your appointment, not to wear, deodorant or perfume, this is due to the metals in these items and also, can you imagine every one that come in has different perfumes, all with varying degrees of potency, and fragrances, the combinations would make your head spin. These two things can upset the readings from the machine. So when you are called in, you are then asked to strip to your waist, and are given a delightful evergreen styled white hospital gown to put on, which way you put it on is entirely up to you, flap to the front is my preferred style. You sit for a few minutes in the small cubical change room, with which you have been supplies a shopping basket in which you put your clothes and handbag, so you take it with you wherever you go , until you have been processed. The operator then knocks on the door, and asks you to come into the torture chamber. She introduces herself, and asks you to sit again, and set's up the computer, with your information. I have noticed that they are incredibly protective of my information, and I must say I have never even now seen my info from this machine. But I have noticed that the air-conditioning is very cold. And I do realise that this is for the machinery, and the computer, but it's not really conducive to relaxing a female, who is about to be sandwiched into the torture machine that is all metal and very cold plastic. I sit looking at the machine before me, contemplating the size of this vice, at least 7ft, with a shelf sticking out of the front of it, and another arm that moves up and down.

The operator now asks you to stand in front of the machine, while she moves the shelf down to suit you breast height, and you are asked to disrobe, so there you stand topless, freezing, and contemplating the pain threshold you can handle in this machine. She asks you to stand with your feet apart, and bum sticking out, knees slightly bent, feet pointing this way and that, meanwhile she asks you to lift your arm over the machine, and grab the hold bar "loosely", "please turn your head", while the operator lifts your breast onto the shelf, and uses her foot to start lowering the arm closer and closer to your breast, that she has flattened by hand , in readiness for the vice coming down, when it connects with skin. Now a your mind is doing what a woman does best, multi-tasking, you are dealing with the weird sensation of another person handling a very private but sensitive part of your anatomy, your cold, and your watching the arm come down . It connects with skin, an keeps going and going, til you have no shape apart from a skin toned pancake that seems to of had all the nerve endings crushed, and the skin on my neck has been stretched and pulled down, to the point of feeling like I've had a stroke. Now the operator goes behind the plastic screen to her computer, and say's " do not breath". You don't and hope this is going to be quick.
A thought run's through my head, how funny does this look, to the layman, not knowing what is really going on, sort of like a softball stance only more awkward. Then there's the thought of "please don't let there be a fire alarm", the comic version runs through my head. A few more Clicks of the machine, and we are onto the other breast and this whole operation is repeated.

The operator then releases you and asks you to sit and wait until she gets back from showing your pictures to a doctor. When she returns it can go two different ways, first is no problem please go back to the waiting room and wait for the Ultrasound operator, OR , I'm sorry but we need to take more pictures for the doctor. I unfortunately was the latter and 3 more times I had to go through the torture of Mammogram, before heading off to the Ultrasound.