It’s just a goddam word!
Does it spark fear, pain inducing wincing and a slight knee scrunch, or, oh  it’s that time of year again, or some other reaction for you?
Well yesterday it was my pleasure!
I could have got all worked up, upset my tummy and screwed up an entire day… but I decided to play a game.
How can I make this necessary check up more fun?
Fuelled by an M+S chocolate eclair – ok so brace of  utterly delicious fresh cream eclairs ( other makes are available but in all honestly who gives a crap about anyone else’s?) – ( the only excuse for all dietary  rules always being ignored) and a couple of pain killers, in I went.
Sitting quietly.
I was called in.
WTF designed the machine for a mammogram?
Sorry I’m going to sling in a sweeping generalisation here…but it must have  been a man!
For those who have never had one, here is a  brief summary…
You strip down to your waist.
You offer yourself up to this, rather  erm…cold machine
One breast, is woman handled onto a cold glass shelf type thing.
You body is then twisted around to get the ‘perfect angle’.😳
Another sodding great sheet of something equally hard is then squished down on top of said boob to create a pancake effect.
If you move at all a this point you are going to inflict some serious pain and damage.
The lovely nurse lady, then scampers off behind a large sheet of protective something, presses a button, checks the image…all the while, the said pancake effect is bloody uncomfortable.  Then….. bliss the top squisher is released upwards. Breathe again!!
Same thing happens for the other breast.
Relief…then bugger!
I remembered there is another, ever more contorted position image to be taken on each side.
You arm is angled up and around the machine, like you’re hugging your best friend who is cold, hard and giving off some seriously unfriendly vibes!
Both sides done.
“That’s it.
You’re done.
You can get dressed now.”
I amused myself during the four images by chatting with the nurse.
I was really really curious about her, her job, her life.
She was fabulous.
I learnt lots.  I guessed her accent!
We laughed.
It felt like the most natural procedure in  the  world.
I left smiling.
I consciously instructed my brain to ignore Eric (we’re going to die, this is going to be really really painful, if you pass out your boob will be ripped off…really Eric? 😳 )and get all focused on me and something I hadn’t been looking forward to… and find all the positives available.
The moral of this wee story of squish, is that every experience we have, is clouded, good or bad by our thoughts about it.
We can decide its going to be OK
We can decide we will look for some good things.
We can decide it’s going to be bloody awful and our brian will gleefully find all the evidence to prove this right.
So next time you have to do something you aren’t really looking forward to, I invite you to play this game.
Make yourself laugh, make someone else laugh ( if they happen to be really grumpy, this is even more fun)
You get to chose how you want to experience  anything.
Something  like this is the ideal midlife playground!
Love. Marianne