Dreaded annual mammogram appointment. There isn’t a woman who looks forward to this brutal experience. Humiliating, horrendous and scary, even scarier than results.
As if we’ve inserted or wedged one breast in a chilled ice cooler. Someone strong slams the door shut as hard as possible, holds for five seconds. Repeats, never stops.
Machine resembles something out of Star Wars movies. After a lot of torturous tugging, twirling, pulling, shoving it finally makes a move with a terrifying sound.
Crazy poses, postures to adopt – turn, twist hips around, lift chin, pull in tummy, stop breathing. Just freshly squeezed. Getting it off my chest…!
Felt like an awkward ballerina – clawed, clamped down, can’t move for life.
Ended up with stony, numb, frozen breasts. Beautiful sprinkles of red, blue blood clots. Unrecognisable, not their usual perky self, at all…
Definitely no tests in 2019 – whatever, just don’t care…