We squeezed. We smooshed. We flattened. Then I stood with my left boob still on the torture device as the technician sent the images to the radiologist who then came in and pronounced there was no change at all in whatever he guessed it was.
With his best bedside manner in place, he assured me, "We'll repeat this imaging in six month just to make sure, but I can say with all certainty that it's nothing." I had flashbacks to junior high when the mean girls in gym class told me my chest was nothing as well, but the relief was overwhelming regardless of the flashback.
The technician, who had been with me through my entire year-long ordeal, gave me and my half-draped torso a great big hug. "I just love happy endings!" she squealed. Then she opened the door and escorted me out of the imaging room.
I grinned and expressed how happy I was to be a happy ending, I thanked her for being so kind and understanding through the whole thing, and then I walked out of the examination area into the reception area.
The reception area, by the way, is not where my clothes were. It was not even where the dressing rooms were. It took me less than an instant to realize I had forgotten to put my top on. It also took less than an instant for the door to close behind me with my drape caught in the door. I grinned at the elderly couple who were probably there for a prostate photo shoot or something like that. I dropped my hand and knocked behind me to let the people on the other side of the door with my clothes know that I needed in.
You'll be happy to know that I eventually got dressed. And that I am still clear with only a nothing in my left boob.
It's hard being this cool, yo.
We gotta take care of ourselves, my friends; we might be the only ones to take care of ourselves. So, tell me - when was your last exam? Are you checking yourself? Are you regularly scheduling time with your doctor? If yes, go buy yourself a pretty new bra. You deserve it. If not, do it right now.
