She knows that several of her life choices (exercising, watching her weight, avoiding alcohol, having her first child before the age of 30, and having nursed all of the Offspring as infants for significant lengths of time) have reduced her overall risk of breast cancer. All the same, she has that tiny fear that lurks in the back of every woman's mind in the interval between the mammogram itself and the receipt of the results. The concern is compounded in Herself's case by the recollection of the three (mercifully benign) breast lumps that she had removed many years ago. While the incidence of those benign lumps does not increase her risk of cancer, the memory of the surgeries is still enough to make her just a tiny bit more apprehensive.
It's quite a relief when the letter arrives in the mail - for any problem would have resulted in a phone call. For another year, she appreciates her continued bodily integrity. Once more, she is grateful for the presence of her bit of cleavage.
Now that this year's test is behind us, we can joke about the procedure itself. Herself quipped that given the way the technician manhandles her mammaries to position them properly in the machine, she should at least get dinner and a movie first. I racked my brain for every possible breast-related pun I could conjure, making quite a boob of myself in the process. It was quite titillating. (Terrible, I know.)
Ta-tas for now!
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