Mammograb, again
Aug. 19th, 2021 11:23 pmI knew I was unlikely to get any basement stuff done today (Thursday) so I did A Lot on Wednesday, then called Belovedest downstairs for a second opinion on whether we could chair swap between the guest nook and Sewzb0t Parlor. They thought we could! And furthermore, they proposed shoving a bookcase out of the way instead of having to move possibly three or four pieces of furniture and several boxes. I was on board with that, and so we did that thing and the chairs were switched and I had them hang up one of the decorative pieces I'd accidentally acquired off Craigslist as a privacy curtain for the bed end of the guest nook. And we deployed the folding desk thing, and grabbed a folding chair, and it's looking remarkably cozy.
Today was The Mammogram. I woke up in time to proceed in a leisurely fashion through the morning routine (with some brainhacking about how Shower Does Not Have To Feel Like An Entire Production, which is potentially incorrect due to Fucking Bodies but whatever) and then about an hour before I was due to leave, I went to look for a certain piece of paperwork that was supposed to be in a specific binder pocket and It Was Not There. I promptly scheduled myself a very organized panic attack and went clawing through a stack of paper with my bonus size pad of fingertip moistener. I found it about half an hour before I was supposed to leave.
I dressed sensibly for the trip (no bra, a loose and easy to remove top) and was off. Slowly, because someone tried to call me and I had to pull over because I was expecting a call and my phone did not want to give me the actual phone. (It was not the call I was expecting. I rebooted after I arrived.) I passed a motorhome on the side of the road near where the Barbie's Dream Motorhome was destroyed. Someone who was driving like an asshole whipped around me and beat me to one of the good parking spots. Hrmf.
I got checked in and barely had time to read half the privacy policy before I was being called back. Someone tried to barge in on me while I was changing, because there are not many changing booths. I found a seat, and helped orient two people who had put on the standard white bathrobes but didn't quite know what to do next. (Have a seat, and they will call you by name.) Shortly after that it was my turn.
The equipment was room temperature plastic, not particularly cold. The poses I had to get into were extremely awkward and I would have preferred that someone else be there to appreciate the hilarity, because I was
a) twisting myself about like the twisted ones
b) reminiscent of models for Renaissance art
and in conclusion if you are into predicament bondage and need mammograms perhaps you have a top who could make your experience of a mammogram better.
When I was all finished I got dressed again, waited my turn for the bathroom, then came home. The large tow truck was just starting to get the motor home loaded. I enlisted Alex's help to get the 12 year old smoke detector out of commission and no longer chirping at us, and wrote a Customer Service Letter.
( Misgendering, deadnaming, having to advocate for myself, and inaccessible chairs )
So, all in all it went basically how I expected it to be from that location.
The form also insisted that my name did not have punctuation. The version of my wallet name that I use in business and medical contexts has punctuation, sometimes.
I flattened myself after that, and suggested a dinner. By the time that was in progress I was un-flat enough to emerge, and the initial test results (just fine, thanks) were in. (Not that I was expecting anything else. And the tech made sure to get that probably-underwire-caused dimple on the right side.)
Belovedest was headachey, and tea wasn't entirely fixing it. I had A Thought, and grabbed a bar of chocolate covered marzipan. I made a little hollow in it. Belovedest heard the rattle of the ibuprofen jar and started to laugh.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alexseanchai: "What's going on?"
Belovedest: "Azz is pilling me."
They took their ibuprofen, and ate enough of the marzipan bar to cushion the ibuprofen.
Dinner did set off the kitchen smoke detector on account of the high-temperature mozzarella sticks. I need to remember to request marinara sauce from fast-food orders, since the correct amount of it currently for me is a tiny amount, and that makes having big jars of it a little awkward.
I got an email from Mama with an update on Dad's condition. It's not great.
Today was The Mammogram. I woke up in time to proceed in a leisurely fashion through the morning routine (with some brainhacking about how Shower Does Not Have To Feel Like An Entire Production, which is potentially incorrect due to Fucking Bodies but whatever) and then about an hour before I was due to leave, I went to look for a certain piece of paperwork that was supposed to be in a specific binder pocket and It Was Not There. I promptly scheduled myself a very organized panic attack and went clawing through a stack of paper with my bonus size pad of fingertip moistener. I found it about half an hour before I was supposed to leave.
I dressed sensibly for the trip (no bra, a loose and easy to remove top) and was off. Slowly, because someone tried to call me and I had to pull over because I was expecting a call and my phone did not want to give me the actual phone. (It was not the call I was expecting. I rebooted after I arrived.) I passed a motorhome on the side of the road near where the Barbie's Dream Motorhome was destroyed. Someone who was driving like an asshole whipped around me and beat me to one of the good parking spots. Hrmf.
I got checked in and barely had time to read half the privacy policy before I was being called back. Someone tried to barge in on me while I was changing, because there are not many changing booths. I found a seat, and helped orient two people who had put on the standard white bathrobes but didn't quite know what to do next. (Have a seat, and they will call you by name.) Shortly after that it was my turn.
The equipment was room temperature plastic, not particularly cold. The poses I had to get into were extremely awkward and I would have preferred that someone else be there to appreciate the hilarity, because I was
a) twisting myself about like the twisted ones
b) reminiscent of models for Renaissance art
and in conclusion if you are into predicament bondage and need mammograms perhaps you have a top who could make your experience of a mammogram better.
When I was all finished I got dressed again, waited my turn for the bathroom, then came home. The large tow truck was just starting to get the motor home loaded. I enlisted Alex's help to get the 12 year old smoke detector out of commission and no longer chirping at us, and wrote a Customer Service Letter.
( Misgendering, deadnaming, having to advocate for myself, and inaccessible chairs )
So, all in all it went basically how I expected it to be from that location.
The form also insisted that my name did not have punctuation. The version of my wallet name that I use in business and medical contexts has punctuation, sometimes.
I flattened myself after that, and suggested a dinner. By the time that was in progress I was un-flat enough to emerge, and the initial test results (just fine, thanks) were in. (Not that I was expecting anything else. And the tech made sure to get that probably-underwire-caused dimple on the right side.)
Belovedest was headachey, and tea wasn't entirely fixing it. I had A Thought, and grabbed a bar of chocolate covered marzipan. I made a little hollow in it. Belovedest heard the rattle of the ibuprofen jar and started to laugh.
alexseanchai: "What's going on?"Belovedest: "Azz is pilling me."
They took their ibuprofen, and ate enough of the marzipan bar to cushion the ibuprofen.
Dinner did set off the kitchen smoke detector on account of the high-temperature mozzarella sticks. I need to remember to request marinara sauce from fast-food orders, since the correct amount of it currently for me is a tiny amount, and that makes having big jars of it a little awkward.
I got an email from Mama with an update on Dad's condition. It's not great.
