two strawberries

Today I went for my second mammogram. At the first they said:

"We can see something irregular. Nothing to worry about, Madame Merrow-Smith, but we would like to keep an eye on it. Come again in four months"

So there we are, four quietly agonizing months later, my faithful husband and I, in the Carpentras echographie joint, waiting. At last they call my name. You can almost hear the mispronunciation:

"Madame Feel-lips"

I want to hit them I am so nervous.

There is nothing like medical experiences in a foreign language to freak one out, and after a near fatal ectopic pregnancy and an IVF in the very same town, I should be used to it, but I still find it terrifying, as if suddenly I will misunderstand the words: "I'm sorry Madame but you only have ten minutes to live unless we lop your breast off now"

I am ordered to make myself 'torse nu'. I guess this means bra an' all so I think I do as I am asked. I am remembering a moment in a hammam in the Atlas mountains when the body parts of my traveling companion and I were ordered hither and thither by the ample pummeleuse, but the instructions were often misunderstood and I ended up in a very rude position. There was much laughter and shaking of uninhibited female flesh therewith...

Suddenly my reverie is disturbed by the blonde bombshell nurse as she yanks my right breast up onto the tray, splays it out and lowers an upper tray onto it, flattening a naturally round plump thing into a painful pancake. All I can think of is:

"Is this how the strawberries feel in the jam when the bread is pressed down on them by the sandwich-maker, forcing those fruit to squelch out of the sides and drip down onto the plate in protest....."

She says (I suppose):

"Get your left breast out of the way you moron"

so I whip it over to the left making room for the right breast to spread her flesh comfortably on the tray. I think to myself: "What do they do with walnuts?"

Two Click 'n Ouches later the nurse disappears for ten minutes, leaving me 'torse nu' and petrified in my nakedness. i feel so vulnerable and wonder why they would not allow Julian with me into this moment between cancer and not - cancer.

"Right one again" she says and flattens me once more, this time down to 5.4 according to the docs orders. Trouble is my breast doesn't want to be flattened that much and lays resolutely at 5.6.

Ten more minutes alone...

"Impeccable" says the doc, not looking directly at my torse nu.

Oh, I think, not only am I healthy, but I have impeccable breasts. Marvellous, Vive la galanterie.