It started innocently enough. I had an annual checkup with my family medicine doctor, which went really well. My blood work was fine, I've lost a little weight, I feel fantastic these days. I was just about to make a clean getaway when she stopped me and asked how long it had been since my last mammogram.
Ruh-roh. I'd never had a mammogram. And I didn't want to get one now. But I have tremendous respect for my doctor, and she was on a mission. So I let her talk me into it. Reluctantly, I went out to the appointment desk and requested a mammogram. The whole time I'm thinking, I can cancel this. I really don't need to do this....but then the appointment chick tells me, they can take you right now. Ruh-roh.
So she leads me back to Radiology and I sit. I take the copy of "Eat, Pray, Love" out of my bag and read the passage where the Indonesian medicine man does a ceremony to remove the curse of a baby born on Thursdays. Seems babies born on Thursdays have nothing but bad luck. It occurs to me that I was born on a Thursday, and I get a little irritated at the whole passage.
The appointment chick reappears to tell me that I can't get scanned, today, after all, and we go back to the appointment desk. She hands me a card to come back the next week and I leave to meet Walker for supper before I go to work.