MammoWriMo?

I got a little reminder in the mail the other day: “Hey, Linda, it’s time for your yearly mammogram! Give us a call to schedule yours today!”

It felt a little like getting those flyers in the mail for car dealerships. “C’mon down! Everything’s on sale! We’re makin’ crazy deals! Good credit? Bad credit? No credit? We’ve got the financing for you!”

So, awash with the appropriate amount of excitement, I called yesterday to schedule an appointment. The scheduling-lady-person on the phone said, casually, “How about tomorrow?”

Now, see, scheduling-lady-person, I purposely called on a Friday afternoon so that you would NOT say “How about tomorrow?” I figured the earliest you’d suggest would be Monday, or, if it’s your busy season or something, next June. Who stays open on Saturdays to do mammograms?

Before I had enough time to process what I was saying, I blurted out, “Sure.”

And so, in a half-hour, I leave for the mammogram.

And you can bet I’ll be taking notes for another book essay. After all, I already try to lighten the mood while I’m there by asking the technician (as she looks over the shots to make sure she got them right), “Can I have a few wallet-size for my husband?”

Yeah, that always breaks ’em up behind the heavy lead apron.

The trick will be coming up with mammogram jokes that haven’t already been done to death, but I’ll try. And the real trick will be communicating that humor without being tasteless. You know, more tasteless than usual, I mean.

Let’s face it: The dermatologist appointments aren’t all that funny. The general practitioner appointments are a snooze (except when they ask me to stand on the scale to get my weight and I take off my shoes, and then they ask me to stand on the scale again to get my height and I put them back on). The eye doctor visits just mean yellow eye drops, crazy Roy Orbison impressions in the car on the way home, and taking bets on whether this is the time I’ll hear the word “trifocals.”

So, the only funny appointments left are the mammograms.

Just thinking about that huge machine with the rotating vise grip is making me chuckle already. Yeah, um, no. But I’ll write about it. You can bet on that.

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About Linda M Au

Freelance humor and fiction writer; Proofreader; Typesetter; Word Brain; Wife of a Math Brain; Crocheter of afghans; Caretaker of Bob and Frid, the guinea pigs; and Meanderer around Sam's Club

Posted on September 29, 2012, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 10 Comments.

  1. I guess you could call the challenge of finding something humorous in a mammogram appointment a “pressing problem.”

  2. This is great. You must live in an area rampant with mammo appts. I have to call months in advance to schedule mine. And then there is that whole issue of whether it’s been 365 days plus one so that insurance will cover it.

  3. Linda, I love your blog! And I had a similar experience this summer–called to make the appointment and got whisked right in the next day. But at least that way, there’s no time to worry.

    • I don’t worry about them, really. They’re mostly just annoying necessities. It was strangely quiet there today. Took me longer to drive there than to go through the whole appointment.

  4. Mammograms would be far more tolerable if there were testiclograms for the guys!

  5. Last time I had a mammogram the technician took one look at my mammarian flesh and said “I’ll need a bigger film”. Then apparently she put it in upside down and had to start over.

    • Shirls, I’m not sure how much I should laugh at that comment without being rude, but I’m dyin’ here. The technician I had yesterday was a real pro. I am thankful for small things. (No pun intended there.)

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