I broke my breasts

Every time I have a mammogram I think about mashed potatoes. There is some logic there - I always feel like they are squishing out any possible lumps. The main difference of course is that they refrigerate the machine before they slap your bare skin on it.

Tuesday I had my yearly mammogram. Usually I pass. I study hard, but one time the gyn nurse called me after the exam and said, "There is nothing wrong, but we need to talk for a few minutes." I ended up in the hospital having something removed. I didn't know what it was until they removed it, and it turned out to be a benign cyst. It was scary for me. Some male doctor who is a breast specialist (he had to go to school for that?) performed the procedure. I had never seen him before. They didn't even give me any good drugs.

I thought I had been a bit sore lately, and so I was sure to get my appointment scheduled as soon as my insurance would cover it. I figure it's due to gaining a few pounds over the holidays and not buying a bigger bra. Crush anything enough, and it will get a little sore. I also figure that if they are both sore equally, nothing is wrong.

Today I took the dogs for a quick walk. I wasn't gone more than half an hour. I spent some time outside visiting with the neighbor who has retired from her job as Vice President in a bank to babysit her grandchild. She has good priorities. I then walked the dogs maybe half a mile, long enough to have Zeke the standard poodle come out of no where and scare the crap out of us as usual. Zeke is adorable. He makes my heart race, after all.

While I was gone, the gyn nurse left me a message on my answering machine.

"Nothing is wrong, but we need to talk for a few minutes."

By the time I got home, she was gone for the day.