Of Mammograms and Mammaries

Hands up who has had a Mammogram. Obviously males excepted. Although on a serious note, men can be diagnosed with Breast Cancer. I guess the odds are some men will have a mammogram. Good gosh, we have had the 'Male Menopause' now it will be 'Male Mammograms'.

I received my letter that it was time for my two yearly check up. Time to squeeze the boobies in between translucent sandwich boards - and honestly ladies, it does not hurt.

On the day of my appointment, off to the hospital I puttered. Hi Ho, Hi Ho, its off to have my breasts  on show - with a squish squash here and a squish squash there, hi ho, hi ho.

I digress. I parked my car (which is a sensible thing to do), and was on my way to the lifts, and then realised why there were quite a few empty spaces. On the walls there was written 'Volunteer Car Parks'. Should I head back? Should I let 'Good Irene' rule my conscience?  After a minute's (okay 10 seconds) reflection, I figured I was there in a voluntary capacity, the carparks were marked for volunteers, so all was ok.

Next dilemma - the Hospital has blue lifts and orange lifts and another choice is required. Orange for someone with a sunny disposition, Blue if things are getting you down, and life is a bitch at the moment?  Even more puzzling, is the fact I figured out later they head to the same destination. Do they monitor who heads into which lift? I can just imagine the Lift Police "Sorry Madam, you look grumpy, into the Blue lift you Go'' or ''What a lovely sunny smile - allow me dear, we have this Orange lift just for people like you''.

Onwards and forwards to have my mammaries mammogrammed.  Into the changing room I go, and get handed a gown to change into. Bottom half of my attire stays on, but if I had used the gown I was handed, it would not have covered my mammaries. A multitude of skin (and sins) would have been exposed. I snuck out and found a suitable gown. I think the one they gave me is for very slender and very, very, and I mean very, tiny ladies.

Sitting, sitting, sitting in my suitable gown - and then I am called in. I have experienced quite a few Mammograms. It's a case of a shuffle here, lean forward, grasp the handle, lift the mammary, push it here, push it there, excuse me Madam, can you pull your tummy back, we want your Mammaries, not your Tum. Bum out, Tum In. Hold your breath. Lovely pose - but not one for the art books believe me! Although it possibly could qualify for an edition of the Karma Sutra.

Remember I said Mammograms are not painful. I lied. They usually aren't. But I think my technician didn't like me - talk about nipping it in the bud - this *&@# actually drew blood. Ouch - how could she get skin caught in god knows where and cause me pain. Karma will get you lady and I am not talking the Karma Sutra!

Let's finish with a little witty ditty:

They told me they wanted to photograph some bits,
By that they meant they wanted to squeeze me tits,
It isn't painful don't you know,
It's just into clear sandwich boards that they go.

Shuffle here, lean this way
hold your breath, please don't sway
And that's it for another two years
Now move your car, its parked in a space for volunteers!