I survived….

the tit squashing process!

It was with trembling legs that I walked up the steps of the mobile breast screening unit. Having had a mammogram before I knew what was coming and I wasn’t looking forward to it.  A stern faced woman sat in a tiny booth greeted me with, “Have you got your form? Sit down there”

I took a seat next to woman who looked even more white faced and scared than me. . She was obviously younger than me so I’m guessing hers wasn’t just  routine. No wonder she looked scared. Her husband had been turned away at the door so her moral support was wandering round the car park looking as forlorn as his wife.

After two or three minutes I was called through and directed to what was basically a small cupboard and told to strip to the waist. “Keep your top round your shoulders.” It wasn’t my shoulders that were feeling vunerable at that point so instead I clutched it to my nervous chest as I walked through for my xray.

The dreaded machine was waiting for me. I stepped up to it and the nurse positioned Righty on a cold metal plate. I looked at the top plate, the flattener, with trepidation.  I sincerely hoped that the top plate came down to meet the bottom plate and not the other way round or I could very well end up dangling off the floor, hanging by my boob! I was already stood to my full height. Mind you, If it had lifted me off the floor it might have stopped my knees from knocking.

The plate came down on poor Righty and I watched in horrified fascination as she quickly changed shape and morphed into a pancake. “My, that smarts a bit.” I said.  At least this nurse was sympathetic, having had the same treatment herself about half an hour previously. ” I know exactly what you’re going through, I’ll be as quick as I can.”   After a minute, righty was released and it was Lefty’s turn.

Lefty, having seen what had just happened,  wasn’t as brave as Righty and shrank back from the metal plate, hugging my chest and pleading with me not to make her do it. “Don’t be so soft” I told her, “at least Righty warmed it up  for you.”

After a minute it was over, or so I thought. “Ok, let’s do the first one again.”

“What?” Oh no!  I’d forgotten about the sideways squish. The one that involves contortions. “Stand here, put your arm up here, hold this handle, lean backwards, lean in, keep your other breast out the way.” Oh dear God!

Once it was all over I dressed and walked back to my car on wobbly legs, fighting back the tears. I felt  bit shell shocked, Im not very good at pain.

I texted Boofuls to tell him I was out and feeling a bit sore. He went straight into his Benny Hill ‘knickers, knackers knockers’ routine and offered to rub them better for me. Not totally sure how altruistic his motives were. I could practically see him leering through the words on the screen, I was completely unimpressed at his thoughtlessness and lack of sympathy. ‘You try and get anywhere near these. Pal and you’re a dead man,’ I  thought in my misery.  He still didn’t  pick up on my tone in my next text and  came back with  yet another smutty joke. Has the man no survival instinct at all?

Lashes was much better as a source of sympathy, she took me for a coffee in town and calmed me down nicely. Thanks, Lashes.

So that was that. Now I can forget about it for another few years  and by that time they may have found a less brutal way of doing it. Fingers crossed – or even boobs crossed now that they’ve been rolled out long enough to tie into a bow!

 

 

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