Probably too much information

This morning, I had a mammogram for which I was way overdue. Having one is always a nerve-wracking experience, but that wasn’t what made me procrastinate. Blame that on last year’s mammogram.

It wasn’t the results, which were excellent, and it had nothing to do with the physical discomfort of having a mammogram. Sure, when your breasts are run over by a steamroller, it hurts a bit, but if you've given birth, you have some perspective. If you haven’t given birth, just know that a mammogram is a dewdrop in the pain bucket.

No, my reticence in scheduling this year’s appointment was the result of what happened after last year’s mammogram. I was still in my gown, waiting to hear if I needed more x-rays taken. Suddenly, I heard hysterical laughter emanating from the radiologist’s office, where the doctor and tech were looking at my x-rays.

Let me define “hysterical” for you. You know how, sometimes, you laugh so hard you think you are going to throw up? Or how, when you can’t stop laughing, you think you’re going to lose control of your bladder? Multiply those kinds of hysterical by, say, 5 gazillion, and you’ll get a sense of how those two “professionals” were laughing.

At my breasts.

First of all, let me say that my breasts are 55 years old. Certainly, they are past their prime, but they have served me well. Besides, I have seen enough other breasts to feel fairly confident that they are, if not stupendous, then certainly not laughable.

Most important, my breasts are healthy, for which I am profoundly grateful. Indeed, I respect them and, naively, I figured my mammography tag team would, too, given that they are attached to a person.

What my tech lacked in professionalism she made up for in stupidity. When she came to tell me to get dressed, I asked what it was about my x-ray that had made her and the doctor laugh so hard. She didn’t even try to come up with an excuse. Here’s what she offered up instead: “Oh, I’m so sorry, ma’am. You should never have heard that.”

In my head, I’m around 25 years old, so the ma’am thing always rankles, but I know how to prioritize so I focused on the larger issue: her misconception that what she did would have been fine if only I hadn’t heard it.

“Did it occur to you,” I yelled, “that I would never have had to hear ‘that’ if you and your buddy hadn’t acted like pre-prepubescent assholes?” She apologized again and walked away. Very quickly.

Within an hour of my visit, I had called the director of the facility and emailed the owner. An hour later, both contacted me to express their “horror,” which I was fairly sure wasn't going to keep them up at night. But it gets better.

Two days later, the radiologist phoned me. “I’m calling to apologize for your visit," he said.

“It’s not my visit that needs apologizing for. Your behavior during my visit is the problem,” I sniped.

He tried again. “I didn’t mean to do anything that would make you uncomfortable.The walls are very thin."

The walls are very thin? That’s the problem?

“The acoustics in your office is not my concern. Your laughing at my breasts is. Try to imagine how you would feel if someone took an x-ray of your penis and you overheard people laughing like hyenas at it?”

“Again, ma’am. I’m sorry it happened. I hope you have a nice day.”

Wow. Like an act of god, it just “happened.” I could picture him checking "apologize to the woman with funny breasts" off of his "To Do" list.

Today’s mammogram went a lot better. My results were great and there was no laughter. Still, there’s a nagging little worry I can’t get rid of. What the hell is so amusing about my breasts?