The other day I went to the doctor to have my bone density scan. They told me to be there promptly at 9:00 and that I’d be in and out in 15 minutes. Yeah, right. I get there about 10 til and I know they always take your copay before you go back so I asked her when I signed in if she wanted my copay and she tells me to have a seat and she will call me up when she’s ready. After waiting about 15 minutes I again asked if I could just go ahead and pay my copay and she tells me she doesn’t know what it is yet but she does have paperwork for me to fill out. Apparently since this was a test and not my normal office visit the copay schedule did not apply.
I take my paperwork back to my seat and fill it out. It asked questions about family members breaking bones, medicine you take regularly, any surgeries you may have had, especially concentrating on the back and leg area. It asked your weight and height etc. Oh, and when they had called me to confirm my appointment they had told me to wear comfortable clothes and not to wear anything with buttons or zippers, so I didn’t. They called me back to the room about 10 minutes after I finished my paperwork and the technician asks me if I’m wearing pants with any zippers or buttons to which I tell her no, they had told me not to. She just looked at me like I was stupid and said “Go in the next room and take your bra off and put your shirt back on and come back in. You can leave everything else on. “
I did as I was told and then I come back and she starts asking me all the exact same questions that were on the questionnaire that the front desk girl had me fill out and which she was now holding in her hand as she was typing stuff in the computer. After about the 4th question I replied “It was surgery to the S1 L5 area of my back, but all the answers to the questions you have asked are right on the paper you’re holding.” Again, she looked at me like I was stupid and kind of rolled her eyes. I wasn’t sure whether she was being lazy and didn’t feel like looking at the paper, which is fine, but don’t waste my time making me fill it out and then not pay any attention to it. Or did they think I was lying and would forget from the time I wrote it down until I got in there?
She did the test and told me the doctor would call me in a few days with the results. When hubby got home he asked about the appointment and then he said “Did you have your mammogram?” I told him no, it was the bone density scan. He then asked if I had made my appointment yet for my mammogram to which I replied that I was getting my nerve up to make the appointment. He wanted to know why I had to “get my nerve up” and I told him that maybe I should take his “family jewels” and squeeze them in a vice grip until they were about a centimeter thick and maybe then he would understand why I was hesitant. I then told him if he’d like to help me prepare, I could just take off my top and go lay on the garage floor and he could take the car and run over my girls a few times. It would probably feel about the same. He laughed and told me to call and make my appointment. I get no respect.
I know he’s right, I do need to call and since October is Breast Cancer Awareness month I should be more mindful of such things. And in honor of that, I found the following poem a couple of months ago when I was searching for something on the internet. I had read it before and the first time it attributed the author as being anonymous. Apparently the writer came forward because this time it says it was written by Julia Napier. I so feel her pain. So without further ado, I give you:
By Julia Napier©
For years and years they told me,
Be careful of your breasts.
Don’t ever squeeze or bruise them.
And give them monthly tests.
So I heeded all their warnings,
And protected them by law.
Guarded them very carefully,
And I always wore my bra.
After 30 years of astute care,
My gyno, Dr. Pruitt,
Said I should get a Mammogram.
“O.K.” I said, ‘let’s do it.”
“Stand up here real close” she said,
(She got my boob in line),
“And tell me when it hurts,” she said,
“Ah yes! Right there, that’s fine.”
She stepped upon a pedal,
I could not believe my eyes!
A plastic plate came slamming down,
My hooter’s in a vise!
My skin was stretched and mangled,
From underneath my chin.
My poor boob was being squashed,
To Swedish Pancake thin.
Excruciating pain I felt,
Within it’s vise-like grip.
A prisoner in this vicious thing,
My poor defenseless tit!
“Take a deep breath” she said to me,
Who does she think she’s kidding?!?
My chest is mashed in her machine,
And woozy I am getting.
“There, that’s good,” I heard her say,
(The room was slowly swaying.)
“Now, let’s have a go at the other one.”
Have mercy, I was praying.
It squeezed me from both up and down,
It squeezed me from both sides.
I’ll bet SHE’S never had this done,
To HER tender little hide.
Next time that they make me do this,
I will request a blindfold.
I have no wish to see again,
My knockers getting steam rolled.
If I had no problem when I came in,
I surely have one now.
If there had been a cyst in there,
It would have gone “ker-pow!”
This machine was created by a man,
Of this, I have no doubt.
I’d like to stick his balls in there,
And see how THEY come out!