The first mammogram is the worst. Especially when the machine catches on
fire. That's what happened to me. The technician, Gail, positioned me
exactly as she wanted me (think a really complicated game of Twister --
right hand on the blue, left shoulder on the yellow, right breast as far
away as humanly possible from the rest of your body). Then she clamped
the machine down so tight, I think my breast actually turned inside out.
I'm pretty sure Victoria's Secret doesn't have a bra for that. Suddenly,
there was a loud popping noise. I looked down at my right breast to make
sure it hadn't exploded. Nope, it was still flat as a pancake and still
attached to my body. "Oh no!" Gail said loudly. These are, perhaps, the
words you least want to hear from any health professional. Suddenly, she
came flying past me, her lab coat whipping behind her, on her way out
the door. She yelled over her shoulder, "The machine's on fire, I'm
going to get help! Okay, I was wrong. "The machine's on fire," are the
worst words you can hear from a health professional. Especially if
you're all alone and semi-permanently attached to A MACHINE and don't
know if it's THE MACHINE in question. I struggled for a few seconds
trying to get free, but even Houdini couldn't have escaped. I decided to
go to plan B: yelling at the top of my lung (the one that was still
working). I hadn't seen anything on fire, so my panic hadn't quite
reached epic proportions. But then I started to smell smoke coming from
behind the partition. This is ridiculous, I thought. I can't die like
this. What would they put in my obituary? Cause of death: Breast
entrapment? I may have inhaled some fumes because I started to
hallucinate. An imaginary fireman rushed in with a fire hose and a
hatchet. "Howdy ma'am," he said. "What happened here?" he asked,
averting his eyes. "My breasts were too hot for the machine," I quipped,
as my imaginary fireman ran out of the room again. "This is gonna take
the Jaws of Life!" In reality, Gail returned with a fire extinguisher
and put out the fire. She gave me a big smile and released me from the
machine, "Sorry! That's the first time that's ever happened. Why don't
you take a few minutes to relax before we finish up?" I think that's
what she said. I was running across the parking lot in my backless paper
gown at the time. After I'd relaxed for a few years, I figured I might
go back. But I was bringing my own fire extinguisher.
fire. That's what happened to me. The technician, Gail, positioned me
exactly as she wanted me (think a really complicated game of Twister --
right hand on the blue, left shoulder on the yellow, right breast as far
away as humanly possible from the rest of your body). Then she clamped
the machine down so tight, I think my breast actually turned inside out.
I'm pretty sure Victoria's Secret doesn't have a bra for that. Suddenly,
there was a loud popping noise. I looked down at my right breast to make
sure it hadn't exploded. Nope, it was still flat as a pancake and still
attached to my body. "Oh no!" Gail said loudly. These are, perhaps, the
words you least want to hear from any health professional. Suddenly, she
came flying past me, her lab coat whipping behind her, on her way out
the door. She yelled over her shoulder, "The machine's on fire, I'm
going to get help! Okay, I was wrong. "The machine's on fire," are the
worst words you can hear from a health professional. Especially if
you're all alone and semi-permanently attached to A MACHINE and don't
know if it's THE MACHINE in question. I struggled for a few seconds
trying to get free, but even Houdini couldn't have escaped. I decided to
go to plan B: yelling at the top of my lung (the one that was still
working). I hadn't seen anything on fire, so my panic hadn't quite
reached epic proportions. But then I started to smell smoke coming from
behind the partition. This is ridiculous, I thought. I can't die like
this. What would they put in my obituary? Cause of death: Breast
entrapment? I may have inhaled some fumes because I started to
hallucinate. An imaginary fireman rushed in with a fire hose and a
hatchet. "Howdy ma'am," he said. "What happened here?" he asked,
averting his eyes. "My breasts were too hot for the machine," I quipped,
as my imaginary fireman ran out of the room again. "This is gonna take
the Jaws of Life!" In reality, Gail returned with a fire extinguisher
and put out the fire. She gave me a big smile and released me from the
machine, "Sorry! That's the first time that's ever happened. Why don't
you take a few minutes to relax before we finish up?" I think that's
what she said. I was running across the parking lot in my backless paper
gown at the time. After I'd relaxed for a few years, I figured I might
go back. But I was bringing my own fire extinguisher.
