I’m not the youngest woman in the waiting room any more.
Okay, I’m probably ONE of the youngest women who gets a mammogram (I’m not THAT old), but I can’t honestly say I’m THE youngest any more.
On the way to my mammogram, I was more nervous than I should be. I’ve had mammograms for years, so why was my stomach in knots? I think I was more nervous about being able to pick up Emmy from preschool after my appointment than my actual mammogram. My mammogram went very smoothly with nothing to report. As I was complaining about how this left nothing to blog about, Ed told me that yes, this is what we want, remember?
After registration, which took about 15 minutes, and waiting for my name to be called, which was about twenty minutes, I was finally ushered into the changing room. (“Undress from the waist up and put the gown on with with opening in front.” Yes, I think impatiently, I know.) By this time I was getting antsy since I only had 45 minutes before I had to be at Emmy’s preschool. Once I had the gown on and was called into the mammography room, I was in and out, and was able to pick up Emmy right on time.
The ease of my mammogram didn’t prevent me from getting an age-old stress headache; the kind starts in my back and works its way up; the kind that I always used to get on the day of doctor appointments and hospital visits. I suppose I’ll never grow out them.
But I take back what I wrote before. I was the youngest woman in that waiting room!
