Last week, a commenter said my dental post made her “squirm” and asked that I not give the blow-by-blow of my recent root canal (which was, admittedly, pretty grisly). So OK, let’s dish about mammograms instead. I’ll be doing mine soon. Last year, I chose the closest facility and totally lucked out. Their mammography tech had worked hard to create a spa-like atmosphere: a Keurig machine with assorted herbal teas, soft terrycloth robes, current issues of women’s magazines and the pièce de résistance, a revolutionary “variable-pressure” mammo-gram machine. Your boobs still get flattened, but gently, as if they were sofa cushions being sat upon by the world’s politest elephant.
If they added complimentary mani-pedis, women would be beating down the door.
I’ve condensed the mammogram experience into a new-to-me poetry form. A TYBURN is a six-line poem, four rhyming lines of two syllables each, followed by two rhyming lines of nine syllables each. Lines 1 and 2 reappear as syllables 5, 6, 7, and 8 in line 5. Lines 3 and 4 reappear as syllables 5, 6, 7, and 8 in line 6. You’ll get it when you see it in action:
(Whoever thought these up is a genius!)
MAMMOGRAM IN A NUTSHELL
Undressed
Compressed
Flattest
Breathless
Left breast, right breast, undressed, compressed, trapped
squashed flat… flatter… flattest… breathless… SNAP!
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JUST JOAN 42 
I guess the mammogram procedure is the equivalent to how it must feel to get your tits caught in a wringer. I hope that “polite elephant” is just as gentle to you this year, as last.
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Good analogy, Tippy, though I would have compared my prior experiences to a CIA operative tightening a vice saying, “We have ways of making you talk.” I’m not looking forward to the elephant, but I’m not dreading it either. The fuzzy robe and green jasmine tea sweeten the pot a little. 🙂
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Glad your sense of humor is not flattened! I like your Tyburn! I always find it amusing that they tighten the compression and then say “Don’t breathe” as if you could take a breath without ripping off a breast!!
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Thanks, Muri. Life seems to become more health-related as you get older… you hit 50 and suddenly you need labwork, bone density testing, calcium supplements, hormone replacement, reading glasses, a mammogram, a colonoscopy, vaccines for flu, pneumonia and shingles, appointments to have moles removed and calluses shaved. Miss a beat and you’ll buy yourself a dementia test. A spoonful of humor helps the medicine go down. I think the mammo tech cranks the compression up a notch after she disappears into the booth; maybe warning us not to breathe is just an un-funny joke? If you did accidentally rip off a breast, you might be able to find a prosthetic replacement at Goodwill; I’ve heard they hide them in the wallet bin. I’ve tinkered with several Tyburns since I saw the form on your site–they’re fun, but oh, so challenging. If you missed last week’s post (a creepy dental parody of Poe’s The Raven), check it out. It makes a mammogram seem like a cakewalk. 🙂
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As a male, I can’t comment on how it feels to get a breast exam. The closest thing a man has to go through is the manual prostate exam. “I apologize up front. There is going to be some discomfort.” He wasn’t kidding about that. Tim
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Aging is full of unpleasant surprises, eh, Tim? Male or female, we all have our crosses to bear. Glad you survived your ordeal. Ever wonder why people avoid going to the doctor after a certain age? Me neither. 🙂
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I suppose it’s better to end with a SNAP! than a POP!
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Right on, Snoozin! Even worse if it ends with an “UH-OH, THE MACHINE SEEMS TO BE JAMMED. HOLD STILL, WE’LL HAVE MAINTENANCE HERE IN A JIFFY.” 🙂
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I don’t know what I enjoy more, your post or your followers’ comments. The politest elephant (insert the word my porous brain can’t find) conjures up a fun visual image.
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Thanks, Judy. I enjoy the comments, too. You really never know what readers will share in this space, but dialoguing with them is half the fun. When I think of the world’s politest elephant, Babar comes to mind, from childhood story books. Remember him? He was orphaned, I think, and taken in by a kindly old lady in the city. Most of the bloggers I follow, I found via their amusing comments on someone else’s post. 🙂
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I thoroughly enjoyed your Tyburn. I think those clever lines cover that procedure rather well. I can say, I don’t miss them for sure. Great job, Joan!
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Thanks, Lana. You don’t miss them? I wouldn’t either, if I could find a way to be exempt. The “polite elephant” might miss me though. 🙂
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They are a major inconvenience and a tad bit uncomfortable for sure. I don’t get them anymore because I don’t have health insurance, so I have to be super sick to go to the doctor these days. Luckily I’ve very healthy. Knock on wood. I’m sure the “polite elephant” would surely miss you!
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Prayers for your continued good health, Lana, also that we’ll soon have universal health care in the USA. In with the Blue Wave, out with the Cheeto and his minions! 🙂
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Those Mammo-Grahams look even more disturbing than some of the freakishly grisly Halloween-themed treats I’d seen. Are they meant to be eaten, or are they intended to be smashed and smooshed as an outlet for post-mammogram aggression?
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LOL, Quirky. This was a Google image, probably from a bake sale to raise money for cancer screenings or something. Right next to the Prostate Chex and Colonosco Pies. 🙂
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That last “SNAP!” is pretty gruesome.
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Kind of a play on words, but meant to be the camera “snap” as it takes the xray. 🙂
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In the future you should probably avoid x-ray machines that make snapping sounds.
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Love the humour you bring here Joan!
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Thanks, Sam. Most life events can be seen through the eye of humor… eventually. 🙂
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