Princess of Irony

I will NOT have you hanging off of my breast like a piercing.

Issue Date: Friday, Apr. 16, 2004

Caution: Image Heavy Entry

Happy Friday everyone, I hope this weekend brings you all rest and relaxation.

So, yeah, the boob thing. If you have no clue about the back-story, please follow the link offered to you in the previous sentence. Click on the red or otherwise underlined [word] boob. Hee. That sounded a bit randy.

Annnnyway, I went to the Richardson Regional Women�s Center on Tuesday for them to do a mammogram on each breast, a sonogram on each breast and if necessary� aspiration of cysts in my right breast. To catch you up to speed, aspiration means a Friggin Needle In. MY. BOOB.

And because of my state of �freaked the fuck out� my lovely husband had called my gynecologist, Dr. Goatee. Dr. Goatee placed a prescription for Valium and my husband gave me the lovely pills when he picked me up to drive to the hospital.

So, yeah, I wasn�t all up with that nonsense. Needles.. in my boob. Shudder.

I wasn�t looking forward to that bit of heaven at all. I mean, it is awkward enough to have some random person [in the case of the Women�s Center� ironically enough, they are all women] ask you to put on a poorly fitting paper gown and gracefully place your� Wait a second. To be honest there is no way to do this gracefully.

Let me just lay it out for you. �� No pun intended�. Well, maybe a little one.

You are freezing your chi-chi�s off in an office complex. Standing there in a paper �gown� when some woman asks you to, �Kindly follow me.� You follow her like a lamb to slaughter. Unlike said lamb [stupid lamb] you are unblissfully [it is too a word] aware of what this person is going to do to you.

You follow her into a room, which is dominated by a machine that looks like this�

Scary piece of shit huh? Yep-o buddy boy. That sucker right there will make you wish you had worn depends when you catch your first glimpse of it.

Heh, just kidding. The machine really looks like this�

Which isn�t much better if you ask me.

And no, that lady doesn�t come standard with the machine. The lady who was going to be smooshing my breasts (official terminology) was a tiny thing, no more than five feet tall. Cute little woman with a beautiful mane of hair and hands that made me think of Austin Powers.

No clue what I�m talking about huh?

�I have a fear of carnival people. What? They have small hands and smell like cabbage��

So, yeah. When she went to perform this maneuver on me�.

I almost offered a helpful suggestion of, �Get a friggin step stool ya munchkin, I will NOT have you hanging off of my breast like a piercing.� But I refrained.

By the way� that picture? Not my boob. If it were, I am sure that this whole procedure would have been less painful. I could have just unrolled my breast from my poorly fitting bra. Adjust it so it was hanging somewhere near my navel, give a rousing rendition of an old timey Vaudeville act and whomp! that bad girl into place on the [FREEZING cold!] glass smoosh platform.

Alas, my breasts do not garner the description of wet socks with sand in them, so� it was a bit of an ordeal.

These women are professionals in what they do, I understand. Really, I do. But when strange women comes at you and opens your flimsy covering and immediately fondles you, it doesn�t give you quite the chill many of my male readers were hoping for.

Seriously.

The tiny-tech� did the regular mammogram on both breasts then went for the diagonal view. This shit hurts.

If you would like to have an approximation of the pain, go into your garage, take a cinder block and a four by six piece of lumber. Lay on the ground with your breast (or he-hooter) and the area between your breast (or he-hooter) and your armpit under the cinderblock. Place the piece of lumber on top of the cinderblock to act as a ramp and have your friend/spouse/significant other/lover/grandma or mailman drive their car/truck/Rascal scooter or delivery van up onto the cinderblock using the lumber �ramp�.

There.

Nice huh?

Yeah. I didn�t appreciate it too much either. But I must say, tiny-tech� was thorough with a capital �Cut THAT shit out already!�

After the mammogram of delight, I was asked to wait in what I like to refer to as the holding pen. Sorta like the same kind of holding pen lobsters are kept in before they are boiled alive and served to a patron. Minus the swirling water.

After what seemed like about eleventy-four hours another tech opened the door to the inner sanctum and asked me to follow her. Same lamb, same results. I followed her to another room.

This room was warm with a nice comfy bed and the lights were low. She asked me to remove my flimsy gown and lay on the table. I did, and she covered my chi-chi�s with a dishtowel. Now, I�m sure that it was a medical dishtowel, but it was a dishtowel nonetheless.

The doctor came in shortly after and I was immediately put at ease. I alerted her to the fact that I was on Valium. She said, �Me too!� snorted and threw her head back and laughed.

I love her.

She is a breast cancer survivor and has a great sense of humor. She was as thorough as tiny-tech� and very pleasant.

It turns out that my boobies are healthy and I do not have cysts. No need for the boob/needle combination.

YAY!

On another note. My husband rocks. Not just because he called my gyno for Valium. [I was really freaking out.] But he knew that I was in LOVE with the Donald J. Pliner Jasa shoe/boot from the Fall 2003 line.

I fell in love with them at Nordstrom.

Like two seasons too late. They didn�t have the size I needed or the color I liked.

I found them at the Donald J. Pliner outlet in New York.

Mister ordered them for me and they were delivered Monday evening.

He is the bestest in the whole world.

Lookit these! They rock!

Oh� and just because I am spoiled rotten.

No seriously. I am. I�m not kidding.

Mister spoils me like my parents spoil their only grandchild.

I received a relatively safe facsimile of the below picture for no apparent reason.

The only differences are that mine is pretty without all the scroll-y stuff and it has channel set diamonds, two above, two to either side and seven below. I love it.

Mister rocks. :)

THIS JUST IN!

Yeah, I�m long winded. Deal.

My bestest girlfriend in the whole wide world LuLu is pregnant! So excited! Gonna rub her belly!

I talked to her yesterday and she said that she feels great (fantastic news) and she is very excited. She said that she has been keeping up with me via the journal because we suck when it comes to talking on the phone. She also told me that she was going to give her husband the site address so he can read too.

So, if you are reading Mr. LuLu� welcome. Pull up a seat, enjoy your stay and don�t forget to sign the guest book!

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