The Boob Squeeze Blues
From anxiety to HUZZAH! — navigating mammograms one squeeze at a time. Join me on this wild ride of nerves, hope, and post-meno victories!
Let’s talk about something that gets to me every year: the annual mammogram. It’s funny — when I go to the dentist, I don’t walk in thinking I’ll leave with cavities. When I get tested for STIs, I’m not bracing myself for the worst. But mammograms? That’s a different story. Every single time, I’m filled with this unsettling dread. And guess what? Today is the day. I’m sitting here, iPhone in hand, typing this out while waiting for the tech to call me back. So, in a way, thanks for being here with me, even if you didn’t realize it — you’re helping me keep calm while I wait. I know, I know — I shouldn’t assume the worst. Anxiety doesn’t exactly play by the rules of reason though, does it? It’s like it grabs the wheel and doesn’t let go. I’m aware it’s irrational, especially compared to the challenges so many women face, but that doesn’t make the fear any less real.
The whole process just feels… daunting. Taking off my bra, putting on that weird blue gown, and staring down the machine that’s about to squish my boobs flat — it’s not a pleasant thought. Now, don’t get me wrong, the test itself isn’t awful. A little awkward, sure. And yes, the whole “pancaking” situation isn’t exactly comfortable, but it’s over fast enough. It’s not the physical discomfort that gets to me — it’s everything else.
But you know what gets to me? It’s not the test itself — it’s the results. Or more accurately, the weight of what those results could mean. That’s the part that sets my nerves on fire. After a string of abnormal mammograms that led to heart-stopping e-alerts and more follow-up tests, I now go straight to a regional cancer care facility to get my results in real-time. No more waiting around for those dreaded middle-of-the-night e-care emails with “you have a mass in your breast” — because let’s be honest, nothing is caring about that. It’s a relief to get answers right away, but even so, the build-up to this day never gets any easier. Walking into the building, knowing that life-altering news could be waiting for me, is a surreal experience.
You’d think after all the clear results so far, I’d be used to it. But nope, the nerves are still there, louder than ever. Oh, wait — here comes the technician. Hang tight, I’ll be right back. Okay, back. The nice tech took four shots — two on each side. And let me tell you, the instructions are comically impossible: “Turn this way, press that, contort your body here, flatten yourself over there, and oh yeah, just breathe and relax.”
I mean, relax? Seriously? There is nothing relaxing about being squished into a machine while trying to balance like a human pretzel. But sure, let me tap into my inner yogi and find my zen as my boobs get mashed into a screen. I just avoid looking at the images — and avoid glancing at the tech’s face, because even though she’s not the one to give the results, you just know she’s already seen something if there’s anything to worry about. But here we are, fingers crossed. Is she being extra friendly because she knows everything’s fine? Or… is she being extra friendly because she knows I’m about to get some really bad news? I close my eyes as the machine squeezes me again. “I’m on a beach, I’m on a beach, I’m on a beach,”
I chant in my head, trying to conjure some relaxation amidst the discomfort. The machine finally releases. The tech says, “All done!” Okay, so far so good. But now comes the real waiting game. Will the results be okay? I hope my boobs are okay. The tech says she’ll be back in 15–20 minutes with the results. Cue the mental countdown. Oh, and by the way, this is a bit of a milestone for me — my very first post-menopause mammogram. Last year, I was unknowingly in menopause, but now that I’ve officially crossed that 12-month mark, I can say it: welcome to my post-meno-mammo. Try saying that 10 times fast!
It’s also my first mammogram since starting hormone replacement therapy (HRT), which, fun fact, slightly ups my risk of breast cancer. So yeah, no added pressure or anything. Five minutes have passed. Just 10–15 more and I’ll know if I can head home or if I’m off to the next round of tests. Two out of my last three mammograms sent me on to further testing, but last year? They let me go after one. Fingers crossed that this year follows suit. Me and my post-menopausal boobs are ready to go home. AND WE’RE GOOD TO GO!!!!
The nurse just popped in with the best news ever — my boobs are clear, and I can take them (and the rest of me) home. HUZZAH!!! Thanks for sticking with me through this little anxiety-filled adventure. Here I am, sitting in this tiny private waiting room, quietly celebrating my good news. All clear, baby!
The Bottom Line
As I sit here, soaking in the relief of a clear result, I can’t help but reflect on the journey. It’s not just about the mammogram; it’s about the courage to confront those fears, navigate the uncomfortable, and embrace the uncertainty. Each squeeze of that machine is a reminder of resilience, a testament to the importance of self-care and vigilance.
To all the women out there feeling the same anxiety, know you’re not alone. Let’s keep sharing our stories, supporting one another, and turning those boob-squeeze blues into collective strength. Here’s to all the little victories — because when we stand together, we’re unstoppable! Until next year, my friends — let’s keep celebrating our health and embracing our journeys, one mammogram at a time!