So, this morning I did my yearly mammogram gig. Because of the weird scare last year, I decided to go to an actual hospital this time around. I thought I would leave with my results, but apparently I have to wait until at least the middle of next week to receive my letter in the mail. (I was told that the letter would say something to the effect of, “All Clear!” or “Whoops! We see something strange, so we’re waiting on the strip mall x-ray center to send your images from last year.” or “You should probably drop what you’re doing right now and call to make another appointment.”)
(Public Service Announcement: If you’ve never had a mammogram and you’re spooked by the thought, I explain the procedure over here.)
Anyway, after I went topless and opened my robe to the front, I sat in the waiting room with four other women. I heard a rumor that this particular hospital has only one 3-D mammogram machine and that for now, they’re reporting it to insurance companies as a 2-D. (Insurance will nearly always cover a 2-D. 3-D? Not so much.) None of us knew which room had the 3-D machine, which made the waiting room feel ELECTRIC–like potentially being chosen to “Come on down!” during a taping of The Price is Right. (Disclaimer: Supposedly, 2-D machines are JUST AS GOOD as 3-D machines. Ah, but if they’re REALLY just as good, why would a hospital invest in a super-expensive machine that insurance companies may not cover? I’m the first to admit that I have no idea what I’m talking about half of the time, but to me? 3-D seems to one up 2-D. Finally, I’m really (really) hoping that eventually the 3-D machines start using holography to laser beam my chest onto the wall. (Bonus points if my chesty hologram is able to speak to me. WELCOME TO THE FUTURE!))
When my name was called, the mammogram technician took me into a room and said, “My name is Judy, and I’ll be doing your mammogram today on the 3-D machine.”
Judy: Actually the 2-D machines are just as effective as the 3-D machines. Buying a 3-D machine is just the hospital’s way of keeping with the times. For now, we’re coding it as a 2-D machine, but eventually you’ll have to ask your insurance company if they’ll approve a 3-D mammogram.
Me (to myself, while taking my left arm out of the robe): I’m walking on sunshine, WHOA-OH!
After four images, she told me that she needed me to sign a paper so they could get last year’s images. And I’m sure that’s a standard thing, but it flooded me with horrible memories from last year. SO, I signed the paper, got dressed, and headed straight to a coffee dump where I grabbed a caramel latte. (Because I tend to control my emotions with coffee and/or too much pie.)
I’ll keep you updated.
Until then, watch this. It’s the first time a dance has choked me.