Pancakes.

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My boobs hurt.

Last Friday, I went to the doc for random stuff, and he found a lump in my right breast. Nothing major, he said, prolly just a cyst. But with my family history, better safe than sorry. Whoopie.

So this morning, I was up at 5:45am to catch a crazy-hour train to NYC for a "we'll squeeze her in" appointment.

The usual paperwork later, I was escorted into the examining room, where the doc did a breast exam. Then...the fun part. The mammogram.

I've had a mammogram before - about 10 years ago after my mom was first diagnosed. But it still baffles me that they can actually do this to my breasts and still have them be attached to my body. I couldn't watch as they turned them into boob-pancakes this-way-and-that-way. Wow. Ouch. I'll never think of pancakes the same way again.

But after the doc looked at the first set of films, she wanted another take on another device, which the lovely lady told me would be "slightly more uncomfortable" than the first takes. (I think in helpful nurse-and-doctor language, "slightly more uncomfortable" describes what you feel when you amputate your arm with no anesthesia.)

After that fun time, she still wanted to check me out more, so we did a sonogram. First off, I can't tell you how depressing that my first sonogram of my life was looking for boob lumps. But at least it was "slightly less uncomfortable" than the mammogram / torture machine we started with.

The exams were quick - I felt like I and my boobs were on a conveyer-belt of boob-imaging along with about 30 other women in the office and their boobs. And in the end, $785 dollars later (why doesn't insurance cover this again?) the doc says my "denser than normal" breast tissue looks normal, and no bumps, lumps, or anything to be concerned about. See you next year.

I'm relieved - obviously - that the girls are healthy. But I had to take some aspirin for my poor boobs when I got back. And I'm already dreading next year.
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