Mamm-A-Gram

Dear breasts:

Hi! How are you tots doing? You girls are just so quiet and unassuming it's easy to overlook you. Painfully easy to overlook you. Anyway, I wanted to give you a heads up about a little something I have to have done to you today. Don't worry; you haven't done anything wrong.

My new radiation oncologist says we are in a high-risk category because you guys got radiated during my lymphoma treatment, and we have to pay closer attention to you than we have been. That means every year we have to have something called a mammogram, and another test called an MRI, to make sure you all are healthy. The mammogram is later today, and I don't want you to be caught off guard about it.

It won't hurt, but you aren't going to enjoy it very much, I'm afraid. See, someone is going to have to gather you each up and squeeze you between two plates until you're flat as pancakes and then take your picture. Now, you think that's no big deal because you're already kinda flat like pancakes. But they're going to flatten you out in an unnatural direction. I know; trust me, I feel your pain.

This isn't exactly how I would spend my first free afternoon this summer, either, but it will be over quickly, I promise. And then maybe I'll let you guys relax and go free from your bra the rest of the afternoon just to show you how much I care.

And I do care, tots. I know you hear me complain about you a lot, about how I feel like you both just never grew up and achieved your full potential, but as much as I dis you sometimes, I would really miss you if you had to go. You both did good work while I was pregnant with Ains and really got your act together when you were called upon.

This thing we're doing today will catch anything that goes wrong with you early and could help me hold on to you more or less intact for the rest of my life. And even if someday one of these tests tells us it's time for one or both of you to go, it's a sacrifice that could save my life. That makes you heroes, in a twisted kind of way.

Have a good day until then.

P.S.--Would it kill you two to fatten up a little bit?

Thanks for your support,
Cranky