Something fun you get to do when you turn forty is have a mammogram every year. Or in my case a mammogram and a sonogram. I got to do this today. It's uncomfortable, Katie calls it midieval, but for me the worst part is waiting for the results. As a semi-recovered hypochondriac it's especially grueling.
Back in my twenties I started getting overly pre-occupied with illness and every pain or lump would send me into a spiral of fear and ignorance. One year at Christmas I received three self-diagnosis books as gifts. And I was psyched. For the most part the hypo is under control now (except for at 5am) but it comes out with a vengeance around mammogram time. Sweating, panic praying. It's so stressful.
I'm happy to report that all is well with my upper lady parts. For those of you forties who haven't done it yet, I'm going to yell at you now. Suck it up, get them checked. If I have to do it, you have to do it.