Now, despite having an 18 month old (wow, can you believe, 18 months - actually, in 5 more days it will be 19 months), I can't really say her arrival was painful. I had a planned c-section...no pain, no discomfort, operating room, and 16 minutes later had a baby - so maybe I won't be able to say I "experienced child birth", I think, despite having a not so pleasant recovery, it was a walk in the park....of course, I truly believe I have the most amazing pain tolerance of anyone I know. Kidney stone and liver biopsy - now they hurt... But I really can handle pain. But, let me take you back a few weeks and we'll get this story started....
After getting "freaked out", almost obsessive and having experienced quite unbearable pain (which see above - I usually can handle), I broke down and called the Dr. Of course, by the time I made the call to the Dr I had of course diagnosed myself.... Dr Google is never wrong, so I truly was convinced my fear of cancer had finally caught up with me. I was a mess - every spare moment was spent on a medical site. Thankfully, with my other medical issues, mixed with meds that have dreadful side effects, I was able to get in to my Dr within 24 hours of my call. And then things moved quick. I heard the word mammogram, will happen fast, will make a referral to a specialist...and ummm, I think that was all I heard. Despite being Dr Google, I don't know if I actually thought I would get booked for a mammogram and definitely not quickly...I thought woman were waiting months. Anyway, next business day, I receive the call, the following day I'm on my way to the hospital and off to this rite of passage that I guess woman must take - but I am still a little ways from that magic age (okay, so the age is creeping up quick, but still, I'm not 40 yet).
And here is where the Squishville story really begins - my guide to the mammogram for all the newbies out there who have yet to experience this great little adventure.
After navigating through the new hospital lobby - which was extremely long I must say, I follow the pink tape in the radiology department towards the mammo waiting room. The sweetest volunteer is there to greet me, along with two other ladies all dressed in their gowns waiting for their punishment, whoops, I mean test. The ladies are looking, dare I say judging, sure they appear to be double my age, I think they are checking me out, thankfully the volunteer calls me and sends me to the changing room. Now, this changing room is small, if I were any bigger I would have to walk in side ways, lean up against the wall to be able to shut the door...but I get in to the small broom closet they say is a changing room and am given the instructions to put the gown on, open in the front please!!! I ask for a housecoat...there are none! I am them asked to return to the waiting room. As I sit down on the couch (it really is a cozy little room), another lady comes in, and now I'm the one judging. She is dressed in a fur coat, the brightest red lipstick I have ever seen and talking a mile a minute, and all I keep thinking is - you are wearing a dress...for a mammogram... you can leave your "pants" on and this lady is wearing a dress, which means her chest is going to be exposed and she has no pants on - anyway, it took my mind off what was coming next...they are just needing your "upper parts" to be on display, but I can't get over, someone who no doubt has had regular mammograms (again, judging by age) came to a booked mammogram in a dress...obviously she doesn't have body image issues like I. I like to be covered!
Anyway, after a few questions, I am taken to the room...and there it is - the Squishville machine, the star attraction. I must say, the captain of this machine was a sweet nurse, she was kind, matter of fact and made the entire uncomfortable experience seem so routine and like it was nothing that it did bring some calm over me...but...let me give you a little play by play.
This sweet nurse is too cheerful, she is bubbly and explaining what will be happening to me and my dignity. I remember quite well checking my dignity at the door when I had Greta, but this was a different feeling...definitely a check the dignity at the door, but then I think - this woman moves peoples breasts around all day, 8 hours a day, pushing, squeezing, pinching and squishing breasts...Anyway, what happens next is not at all what I'm expecting. I never expected anything so positively funny in all my life!
I have to stand on a line on the floor, put one of the "girls/puppies, B cups", whatever you want to call them, on a glass plate (or maybe, it was plastic), then lean into it, while the sweet little nurse starts pushing, positioning you, moving your shoulders, tell you to move this way,then back, then up, there are foot pedals on the floor that she moves the Squishville machine with and sweetly again, tells me she needs me to get in to the machine as much as possible. Believe me, I was in the machine, I was starting to think they wanted pics of my liver not my chest. Then as I am standing pretty much on one foot and being told to breathe normally the other plate starts moving down, and down, and down...a let out a little gasp, followed by - are you kidding me! She then informs me there is a bar I can hold...a bar, at this point the only bar I'm thinking about is at a local pub with a fruity vodka filled drink. Of course, I'm trying to maintain an ounce of dignity and don't want to hold the bar because that means I won't be able to hold the tiny thread of fabric on the open gown I am wearing, my gown is slipping off my shoulder, and the machine is getting tighter...Breathe she says...then the picture is taken and I'm let go from the death grip... Phew - Okay, I say, that wasn't as bad as I thought, she said that is great, only 3 more pics to go!
You see, they'll want to look at your puppies/ girls, B cups, from the top, bottom and sides and all of this takes some interesting dance moves. As I am positioned again for other shots, I'm realizing the effort to hold this gown up isn't really worth it, pretty sure it fell completely off me come the 3rd photo. I am pretty sure the 4th picture actually lifted me off the ground, and the breathing normal - nah, I was wincing in pain...but the good news is, literally within minutes it is over with. Despite what I was anticipating, it really wasn't as painful as I expected, uncomfy yes, being pushed, positioned and lifted off of the floor, not a walk in the park, but worth it to find out what is going on.
Of course, then you wait for the results...which means someone like me comes home and starts to research again and start to think about my funeral, because I don't have a positive bone in my body when it comes to health matters. And I'm not thinking of any funeral, I want a NB style funeral on PEI...this line up thing is just odd, and name tags...nope, don't like that either. And I want flowers...lots of flowers...and I think I need a guest list, there are people I just don't think should be allowed to come to my funeral, so short of hiring bouncers, I think at least the guest list would control who was let in, and I was going to leave a list of who was to be kicked out. Then clothes...what would I do for Greta - was I going to have to buy a lifetime of clothes for her, prom dresses, jewelry, surely I would have to buy shoes for the next 18 years for her. And what would Darren do, would my pictures still me in the house, would Greta come look for me and just see my picture...ahhh, it was stressful.
But thankfully, my story has a good ending, in one week, I saw the Dr, was referred, bet the mammo machine and had a positive outcome. Phew. I know others are not so lucky and despite imaging for a full week what it would be like, I am sure you never could be prepared. So for now, thankfully I'll stick to my 3 diseases that cause me pain and agony, stress and anxiety, but that can somewhat be controlled...It could have always been worse.
So, that is the journey, if you are 40 and have yet to book your first visit to Squishville...make that call...it could very well save your life and you may even find it a tad funny...where else can you get a "massage", good conversation and a lift off the floor by your chest!
Toodles!
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