Squishing Please But No Probing

I must be getting old – or senile. I succumbed to the pleading from my doctor and had a mammogram today. As my doctor said, “Better 17 years late than never!” I wanted it to be never.

For the life of me I cannot figure out why I actually did it! I hate doctors because I worked for them for years and got to see the ‘medical underbelly’ of the Hippocratic Oath group and it is not pretty.

I only go to a doctor if I am mostly dead. Even then, I usually only go to tell them what I have and what prescriptions I want. Procedures that include ‘undress’ and ‘place your breastal tissue on this plate while I squeeze the life out of it’ do not fall in the category of ‘mostly dead.’ They should be lumped in the category of ‘Are you kidding me? Just how degrading can someone’s life get’. At least in my mind.

Oh, I know these tests for us ‘older’ folk have saved many a life. But – and this is a big BUT – no one in my family has died of anything more than old age or a car accident. Seriously. We are medical marvels. We probably should be scientifically studied.

Thus my belief in the uselessness of any ‘procedures’ other than say maybe a tummy tuck. Where is a plastic surgeon and $10,000 when I really need them?!

But today I let my anti-procedure guard down. All I can figure is that to me there seems to be so much useless death going on in the world today that it is messing with my mind and making me think that I might be the first casualty in our family of useless death because I did not get the stinking test done. So I relented to my minds argument and did it.

But all in all it really was not that bad. The radiologist was very nice. She used gloves so it didn't seem to be quite the violation of my personal space that I had expected. Of course I had to ask her in mid squeeze if this is what she planned to do with her life when she was young. Take x-rays of woman’s breasts? I told her I had wanted to be a teacher, had she always wanted to squish boobs? She was a good sport about the question and then actually told me her radiological history since 1975. After her exhaustive work history monologue (which I enjoyed), I began to suspect that the boob squishing gig was a bit of a demotion as she nears retirement, but to my surprise she seemed happily resigned to her fate.

It was over in a matter of minutes. She told me that they would either call me or send me a letter and then said I could get dressed.

I thanked her and then told her how nice she had been and how I wished we had met under circumstances that would have been a bit more fun and a little less 'fleshy.' I wanted to say 'nipply', but I thought that was too crass, after all, I had just met the woman.

In the end, they won’t find anything. They never do. My family's medical history considered and all. I know I have wasted my money. But, if it ever comes up again at a mostly dead doctor appointment about my age and how I need a mammogram at least I can say – already done – and the doctor can quietly put away her tablet, give me my Valium and walk away.

She knows better that to ask me about a colonoscopy. My mind is not that far gone yet and she knows that the answer to that will forever be – NOT ON YOUR LIFE!!

Squishing is one thing – probing is another thing entirely. Only aliens get to do that to me…