Look at the "Selenia," such a beautiful name for such an evil machine.
Impressive, for sure. And a great screening tool, no doubt. We’re lucky to have this diagnostic tool available to us. I do realize this. But anyone that’s had one done has to admit that it’s a bit strange to have this rather sensitive part of your body, pulled up, out, and away from you, then laid on a shelf, and compressed -- with force.
And it’s not as though you can do this all yourself. No. You need help, in fact, at least in my experience, the technician takes over and woman handles your breasts into place. She’s also not shy about grabbing your naked torso to shift you left or right, or about helping you to relax your shoulders or brushing your hair out of the way. (All the while you're trapped by your own tit in the blasted machine.)
Luckily this woman’s hands weren’t cold. This cannot be said for the machine itself. Frigid. Iceberg. Glacial. But in a way the bracing cold is a blessing because it takes your mind off the force with which the top section is going to come down on your poor teat.
Once the technician has gotten you into place, she says, “Don’t move”; which of course is an invitation to your mind to start squirming. I decided to employ some breathing techniques I’d picked up in yoga. Good idea in theory, but guess what? When you take long, deep breaths you may still your inner self, but the singular part of you that does move is your chest. Try it. Did you see? Just your boobs seem to move. Not optimal for the mammography machine – a total rookie move.
Regardless, I survived my exam and even snapped the above photo of the Selenia at the end. The technician though I was a bit cracked, but here’s how I look at it, you fondle my breasts, I have the right to take a photo of your machine. (And I did ask first.)
I'm lucky to have this yearly screening; but I sometimes wonder why men don't have a similar one to check for testicular cancer. Where oh where is the manogram?