A few weeks ago, Parts excitedly told me at 40 I needed to start having annual mammograms. So I scheduled one. TMI I’m not sure how this all works with the diminutive size of my breast material but whatever.
I’m still a little bitter that Parts told me I had to have one. But shouldn’t she, too? We could have made this a joint activity!
On the anticipated mammogram day, I figured out how it worked. It will forever be known as “The great smash and dash!” Which oddly sounds like I’m committing a felony and is truly exciting.
Ok, if you don’t think it’s funny that I’m making jokes about having a mammogram, then I’m sorry; feel free to never read my posts ever again. Yes, I am aware of the seriousness of breast cancer as I have a very close friend currently in the throes of chemotherapy which will be followed by surgery, then culminating in radiation. It’s serious. And my heart hurts for her. I am not making light of her situation, or anyone else’s. However, if you know me well, you know I have the absolute worst sense of humor when it comes to serious things, like death, funerals, and, now, mammograms. It’s my coping mechanism. Could be worse, maybe?
Fortunately, the results indicated no issues except a gentle warning I have dense breast tissue and I have been granted a reprieve until next year.
Other things -:
The week of the great smash and dash included the great grab and smash. I’m onto something.
For context, 100 lbs is approx 70% of my bodyweight. And I’ve never lifted anything close to 70 lbs over my head. This “realization phase” was quite a success!
A week of reloading, then a week completely off from everything. Except running, of course. Then, I’ll start another 5-week routine.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
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I ask you –
For my mammary-beholden friends, have you completed your annual mammogram?
(The post Mission Accomplished first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)
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