PSA

Inspirational song: I Hope You Die (Bloodhound Gang)

Being a woman "of a certain age," I have reached the time in my life when I must submit to much more routine medical testing than I had to as a younger woman. Although, to be fair, I do have one post-surgical advantage I didn't have when I was in my twenties and thirties, that allows me to skip the worst of all routine tests. But this beautiful summer day was all about soaking in the rays. X-rays, that is. I know you have heard the over-the-top stories about mammography, with older women trying to scare the younguns about getting grabbed and squeezed in the plates, and oh, it's so awful. Ladies, stop trying to use these melodramatic exaggerations to compete with our old horror stories of childbirth. You just sound desperate for attention. It really isn't that bad, and if you go to the right place, it's actually easier than any other medical procedure on the planet. I went to a medical complex that has a giant breast care center, and they have their core efficiencies down pat. You sign in, are escorted by one person to a locker room where you change into a kimono-top, and are immediately whisked from the second waiting room to the imaging room. Two tiny metal beads on pasties and four quick poses later, and you're already back in the changing room, ready to leave. I parked in the South Carolina sun in August, and my car didn't even have time to heat up before I was back in it. I am not lying. The worst part about the whole experience was peeling the stickers off. This was even the tightest anyone has ever cranked down the apparatus, but it's a softly curving acrylic, and it still didn't actually hurt. If any of you are approaching the age of your first mammogram, and dreading it, or trying to convince yourself you don't want to go back because you got one years ago in a place that didn't specialize in something like this, don't listen to writers who are trying to make you laugh and cringe when they tell you it's such a trial. No fear, ladies. Plus, with digital imaging, it was only four hours later when I got the phone call that said yep, they're still there. All good. See you in a year.

To piggyback on this, something that will eventually apply to us all, not just the 51% of the population with a double X: people, stop letting people tell you colonoscopies are horrible too. The worst part is trying to swallow the worst-tasting concoction on earth (that is supposedly an improvement? oh, how bad could it have been before?) to prepare for the cleanse. The fasting isn't so bad. If you have games on an iPad, even hanging out in the bathroom for hours goes by quickly. Nothing will help the taste of that horrid liquid, but if you can choke it down quickly you're allowed lots of water to wash it down. By the time I was in the room for my procedure last year, I was nervous, but had the presence of mind to thank the anaesthesiologist in advance for the milky white miracle she was starting to push in my IV. I think I got the whole sentence out before they were waking me up in the recovery room, but I can't be sure of that. Sure, we can all get embarrassed and act like thirteen year olds over the the topic, but let's be honest with ourselves. You sleep through the procedure, and as long as you have a nice loose pair of yoga pants (or sweats) to wear home, you only need a couple hours to shake it off, tops. Bring a snack for the ride home, plan on lying around watching television, and set aside the fear. It's no big thing.

A word about the song for today. No, I most assuredly do NOT hope you die. Quite the opposite. I hope you stay on top of your health care, eat right, exercise, and live long, comfortable lives. But that song is the first off of the "Hooray for Boobies" album, and well, that's what today was all about, wasn't it? Mine are still here, and they are still healthy. Hooray!