The second squishing.

So, I have to go get my boobs re-squished today because they saw something that needed further testing when I got my mammogram last week.

It was my first mammogram ever. My baseline mammogram, according to my doctor. I didn't worry about it. Other than the normal anxiety about what was going to happen to my girls.

Turns out, it wasn't that bad after all. It was super uncomfortable. I guess any machine that attempts to flatten out something that is supposed to be round is going to be uncomfortable.

It reminded me of an incident at the ice cream stand I worked at the beach. A customer once complained that there was something in her ice cream. This was after she had been standing there licking away on a very windy day. My boss had used up all of his patience for the day. He took her ice cream and smushed it all over the counter right in front of her. "I don't see anything in your ice cream."

It was awesome.

I'm not sure why my boob squishing conjured up that particular memory, but it did.

Anyway, I was in and out of my mammogram in 10 minutes. No problems. No worries.

Then, they call back. Apparently there is something on the right boob that they want to examine further. They want me to come back in for additional testing on the right boob.

(Gulp)

Umm. Okay. I scheduled it for Monday and tried not to panic about it over the weekend. Yeah right.

Of course, I told my mother who then told my brother to pray for me because I was having testing done. Omg. My brother does not need to be aware of anything involving my boobs.

Ewww.

Most people I talk to say that it's just normal, especially because I have bigger boobs. Especially because the right one is the biggest.

I'm trying not to stress, but I can't help it.

When a lot of people think about mammograms, they think about cancer. When they think about cancer, they think about pink ribbons and 5k walks and 'save the ta-tas' stickers.

When I think about cancer, I think about loss. I think about death. I think about sadness.

I think about my Uncle Ralph and how he just wasted away with lung cancer. I think about the day my mother came into my room and said "It's over." and we just cried.

I think about my Uncle Joe and how he kept saying something about 'time' when they took him to the hospital that last time. My aunt thought he was asking what time it was. He was actually telling her that it was time to go. He didn't come back home that time.

I think about my cousin Barry lying in a hospital bed as the tumor consumed his body. He was in a coma as we watched the tumor slowly grow and take over. His wife never left his side until peace finally came.

I think about my cousin Connie who died of breast cancer. She was a soldier. She died young after returning home. She died alone, never having the chance to find love or have children. My mother puts flowers on her grave because others often forget to.

There are currently two breast cancer survivors in my family. One dreads the return of cancer because she watched her husband die of the disease. The other has to wear hats every day because her hair has never grown back from the chemo.

I suppose you could understand why I would panic at the mere thought of cancer. I don't see pink ribbons and 5ks. I see loss. I see fear.

Today at 1:30pm, I will be squished again. I will also have an ultrasound. I'm sure that it's nothing. I'm sure that it's normal. I just can't seem to shake the thoughts of those who have been taken from me.

I'll be back later to share the results. After I consume large amounts of alcohol and cupcakes. Duh.