AFTER THE PHONE CALL:
"What are you most worried about?" my husband's voice floated over in the darkness to where I was attempting to smother myself with my own pillow.
I sighed.
"If they find something, I have to live the rest of my life dealing with Erin crediting herself for bullying me to a mammogram appointment," I hiccuped.
"That would be pretty terrible," he agreed.
BEFORE THE PHONE CALL:
Somehow, I have managed to successfully make it to age 55 without the consultation of a committee. But now, all of a sudden, certain bossy individuals are taking it upon themselves to shove me into situations of which I am FAR from comfortable. Case-in-point, my friend Michelle's relentless hounding to get me to go see a gynecologist.
I still wasn't healed from the emotional trauma of that little episode, when...along came Erin with magical stories of "The Breast Bus" that runs through her town like some weird rendition of a food truck. Is there a "Colonoscopy Caravan," too? Having seen more episodes of "The Magic School Bus" than I would like to admit, my imagination ran wild about the appearance of this "Mammogram Mini-Van." I could not contain my curiosity...okay, sign me up.
Erin and I made the call together and were devastated to discover that "The Breast Bus" had been re-tired. Obviously, this meant that I could just park my plans. Whew! Unfortunately, Erin and the receptionist decided to change lanes and, before I could blink, an appointment was made for Monday. "THIS Monday?" I gasped. Most medical and dental appointments are made months out...giving me plenty of time to cancel. "We'll go for drinks first," whispered Erin. The receptionist, now Erin's new best friend and my mortal enemy, laughed, chiming I with, "And after!"
Of course, my mammogram prescription had expired so I had to make the Call of Shame to my gynecologist who THANKED me for calling and CHEERFULLY wrote me another one. Everyone is conspiring against me.
I spent all weekend, whining to the point of exhaustion.
"Are you okay?" Erin asked, as we departed for our Monday appointment.
I was a bit congested. So tired. Inexplicably, my voice was starting to go.
We went out to eat before our appointment, Erin ordering me a little liquid courage.
We were still a little early so Erin suggested popping into a store.
I don't remember this.
Great. Another store.
Nope. No memory of this.
Two weeks later, I would show Erin a picture of her in an unknown location and ask her what the heck we were doing.
She stared at me, stunned. "You don't remember this? You sulked your way around this entire store with me."
I do remember most of the mammogram visit as I was on high alert.
I am usually rendered mute in circumstances such as these so Erin did most of the talking.
Then she wrestled me into this weird half-robe contraption.
We shared a locker because we are "breast friends."
Then...Erin was whisked away.
The technician arrived to escort me to a tiny room with giant machines. My weird half-robe had become a straight-jacket so the poor technician had to help me. My breasts were individually lifted onto a platter, quivering slightly like a Jello mold. I cooperated by shaking uncontrollably, tears silently streaming down my face while being unable to follow even the most simple of directions. I have posed for pictures in the past...but not like this. "Chin up. Feet parallel. Hips tilted. Arm stretched up over the machine." The technician had to physically move me into place each time. Then...the noise of the machine and the pancake-flattener. The technician was so kind...so professional...so patient. My anxiety leaves me feeling embarrassed, vulnerable, and ashamed. She tried so hard to be encouraging and complimentary. "You did great!" she said, hugging me.
Yeah.
Apparently, Erin took me for ice cream after.
No memory of it.
Got home and collapsed.
Tried to go to work the next day until my team blocked me from my classroom door and insisted I go home.
Discovered I had Influenza A.
The next three days were miserable.
The phone rang on the second day. My heart fluttered when I saw it was the Radiology Center. I didn't want to answer it. This was one of those moments in your life where you realize that your life may be about to take another trajectory. My mind flashed to my mother. She needed me. I didn't want to answer that phone. But I did.
(Don't worry...this story has a happy ending)
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