It’s the 3rd most wonderful time
of the year! My Mammo time!
(1st is Christmas of course, only 32 weeks and 6 days to go. And 2nd is back to school time, glorious.)
WARNING TO THE MEN FOLK:
I’m going to be talking about boobs, mine for the most part, but boobs in general too. I don’t have an abundance of boobs, but I do have lots to say about them. Their health specifically. So if you want to pass on this post and go on to the next one in your Reader, I’m cool with that. However … if you have a woman in your life you love, you might want to read on. Doing so might help you help her one day.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I don’t love my boobs. They’re pretty small so I have to wear ‘big girl bras’ as my girls call them, aka push-ups, if I want to have any shape to them at all. And so they stay closer to my neck than to my belly button. My boobs are saggy too, mostly from weighing in at 200 lbs once up on a time and from nursing 3 babies. And when I lie down on my back, they slide over into my armpits. Good thing mirrors go on walls and not ceilings [well, for me at least].
But I do love my health. I love to be alive and I’d like to keep it that way for sometime thank you very much. So I take care of my boobies. And my nurse practitioner reminds me to take good care of them by automatically sending me a requisition in the mail to book my annual mammogram appointment. The req form came in last week. So exciting!
I’m at an elevated risk for breast cancer. My mom had two run-ins with it, losing one breast to it the first time, and it not responding to any course of treatment the second time and it metastasized into her lungs. I also have skin cancer, so those nasty cells in general are already in my body. Plus, I don’t have a spleen which is a live-without-able organ but still a big part of one’s immune system, so I can’t fight disease as well as the average person. Add to those a few other more minor risk factors and it doesn’t paint a pretty picture.
BUT … I have paint brushes at my disposal that may help me paint a breath-taking, not boob-taking future. The biggest of which is getting a mammogram done every year.
Recommended starting age varies by where someone lives, their personal risk factors, and current state of health. Due to my risk factors, I started getting the exams done last year at age 45 and I go yearly instead of every two years like many. Ladies – if you are unsure whether you should be getting yours yet, I strongly urge you to book an appointment with your health care provider to find out.
A lot of gals don’t like getting their mammo’s done. Well, I’m not exactly the gal next door I guess, because I look forward to this entry on my calendar. Here are some of the added benefits of getting my boobs temporarily misfigured by some complete stranger …
- I don’t need to use any of those apps out there for so-called brain training. I stretch my mind enough standing naked in a cubicle trying to figure out how to get the hospital gown on without scaring the old fart down the hall if he sees my derriere peeking out. Getting ready for a mammogram beats Lumosity, crossword puzzles, or that piano tapping game any day in my books.
- I despise having my picture taken. So when the situation arises that someone wants me in their photo for whatever reason, I can politely decline and say “Sorry, I just had my boobs photographed recently and I’m not ready to have another pic taken of me just yet”. The snappy chappy is usually so shocked by my reply they don’t know what to say, so I succeed at avoiding being in front of a camera once again.
- It’s a break from the hum drum or the chaos of everyday life and makes for a very interesting conversation starter. Might even be Facebook worthy or the start of a new blog post. I mean really, how many other people in my circle of followers will get to say on my appointment day that they too had theirs done that very same day? None probably. So I’m gonna take centre stage and write about it. I’m single you know. I only get to say I had my boobs fondled twice a year, mammo and physical appt days.
- On a related note, getting my mammogram done is just as special as my birthday or Mother’s Day. It celebrates me, me, and more of me in the hopes that I get to keep all of me intact just they way I am, boobies and all. It’s not just social media sharing worthy, it deserves a cake. Woot woot! I get to buy me a cake!
WARNING TO ALL FOLK:
This somewhat overdramatic story of how I find excitement in my life will be continued again in the very near future. Watch for it. I’ll probably have a lot to say about my boobies then too.
Image source: Terry Robinson user on flickr.com, CC2.0 Generic
In response to today’s Daily Prompt: Chaos