What does one wear to a mammogram? Well not lotion, perfume, deodorant or anything else that might stop the waiting room from smelling like the inside of teenagers sneaker.
So to feel human and look as gay as possible - I choose basic black slacks accented with a jaunty white belt - matching black and white old school converse tournaments, and topped it all off with a popped collar black polo - the one with the giant white horse and a red number four.
The imaging department is really like Walmart. Cancer for everyone. I was early and got called in right away. Lucky me. Liza came with me for moral support and of course to hold my sunglasses and phone. We went into a smaller waiting room which had three other freaked out women, nasty magazines, a nastier couch, and a tv. Coverage of 'the Gaza conflict' was on - which for me was a nice reminder that it can always be worse.
Then Liza changed the channel to a talk show with 5 bald flat chested cancer patients all crying. It can always get worse.
It was my turn to go into the bathroom, strip from the waist up and put on a gown. I stood there - my lovely shirt and sports bra stuffed into a plastic bag and stared at the shelf. My choice was sea foam pale blue washed within an inch of its life or a lovely gentle mint green. I picked the mint which turns out is xxxl. Ethyl and Myrtle might be but i am not. Jabba the Hut is not this big. I could have stolen a piano. That is if i had succeeded in getting it on.
I thought gowns had sequins and straps not three gaping holes. I had no idea. So i tried putting it on like curtains - my arms as the rods. Nope wide open. I tried wrapping it around me like a scarf. Nope covered exactly nothing. Then I tried it like a 1972 poncho with my head in one hole and my arms out the side. Memories of my near death in the pool surfaced. I wrestled it off and stuffed it in the 'soiled gowns bin'. ew.
Blue it is. As reached to the top shelf i finally i saw the giant poster. Step by step instructions. So simple. You put it on like a coat and wrap the third hole over your other arm. Who knew? I exited the bathroom with as much dignity as one can wearing something at least 500 others have sported and the girls and i sat down beside Liza to wait.
Poor Ethyl and Myrtle had no idea what was happening - they just huddled in my armpits completely confused as to why they free falling in public - and when the woman who had gone in ahead of me came out clutching her chest and crying i just whispered quietly -
"Hey Myrtle - wanna play a game called put the marshmallow in the parking meter?"