Dreaded Machine

Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

With my steps slowing, I follow the technician into the darkened room. A monitor glows. The only source of light is an overhead spotlight. I step up and face the dreaded machine, willing my mind to take me somewhere else.

“Step forward a little. Turn your head. Lean to the left. Put  your arm here, bend your elbow. Shoulder down. Reach over here. Tilt your head back.”

As the machine squeezes, the final command, “Don’t breathe!”

A repeat performance on the right side.

A few moments of pain are required each year. These uncomfortable minutes could save my life. Thank goodness the yearly mammogram is over!