First, a PSA. Alright ladies, I don't know about you, but my mom and aunts put the fear of God into me regarding mammograms, or as my mom calls them, slammograms. I literally thought that my boob would be crushed between two metal plates to the point of almost popping. Well, I am happy to report that that is not the case. 

I arrived to the radiology clinic this day unworried besides from the irrational fear of my tit exploding in the mammogram machine. I had to wait in a common waiting area where two men were asked to leave because they wouldn't comply with the mask policy (sigh). Soon after, I was led to a changing room where I was advised to put on a shirt-like gown that opened in the front with a single tie. This was a one-size-fits-all type of gown and I might as well have just gone topless. My small boobs for once did not feel like being constrained within the cheap blue cotton blend of the gown. Awkwardly clutching the opening together, I was led to another waiting room for women only. The almost spa-like setting made me instantly relax. I joined three older women and we sat quietly together in our blue smocks while watching HGTV. 

Shortly after I was called into a small room with the dreaded slammogram machine. If I thought the blue smock was embarrassing, boy was I wrong!  A short, older and extremely confident woman man-handled my boob between two plastic trays while my face smooshed against the plexiglass barrier. The trays tightened and I was told to relax my shoulders and hold my breath. I almost started laughing at the thought of what I must look like. There was no pain, but oh the embarrassment! Images were taken of both boobs every which way - straight on, side boob, right boob, left boob, while the blue smock hung awkwardly over the unpressed tit. 

I was led back to my HGTV viewing spot, but was called back in shortly after for a few additional slams of my right breast. I was then told that the doctor would also like an ultrasound of my right breast, so I made my way to another small room where a stranger massaged my boob with warm lube. The awkwardness continued as she also came back a second time for more images. At this point, I knew something must be wrong, but thought it must just be a benign cyst or something else inconsequential. 

Finally, the doctor came in and rambled off a bunch of doctor-y words and said I needed to come back for a biopsy of two visible masses in my right breast. There were also calcifications around the masses which she said could be pre-cancerous (the first C word drop). She didn't seem too worried and neither did I. I asked for her to write down her big doctor words and immediately called my sister who reassured me that it is probably nothing. 

And so, I went on believing that the worst of what could be would simply be a minor inconvenience.