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November 12, 2009

The Big Squish

Yes, you got it. Yesterday I went for my annual mammogram. What fun! The technicians at Mercy Hospital are lovely – women who have been on the other side of the machine, i.e., women who have been the squishees as well as the squishers. It’s not fun for anyone involved but it has to be done so . . .

Stephen was in New York on foodie business so I took a cab to the hospital and back. The driver on the return trip was a woman about my age, maybe a bit younger. I just had to tell her what I’d been doing at the hospital, and within a second we had launched into a humorous tirade about the agonies and humiliations women have to endure in the world of medicine. Why, the driver wondered, can’t gynecological exams be conducted via some sort of camera that reads right through the skin, etc.? Why does my collar bone get bruised during the squishing process, I asked.

From there the conversation naturally led to men – specifically, our husbands – and their uncanny ability not to notice things about us – like new haircuts or the fact that we’re soaking wet and yes, have just taken a shower. (That’s one of Stephen’s specialties, asking if I’ve taken a shower yet when I’m soaking wet with a towel around me. It’s quite amazing, actually.)

There was a lot of laughter and some good-natured shouting and when we pulled up outside my house I felt compelled to dramatically overtip and to thank her for relieving some of the residual tension I had been feeling post cancer screening. As she pulled away she shouted out some advice. Here it is: “Be sure to have three glasses of wine tonight, one for you and one for each of the girls!”

I did.


I always treat myself to a new bra after the big squish!

Hey...I notice all sorts of stuff that I don't mention, FYI...but, you know, I'm glad squishday ended with a laugh!...xoxo

Posted by: stephen |

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