Happy Mammogram Day to Me!

I’ve been a happy Mollianne today. I have been seen bouncing around The Church House just beaming. I woke up and my first thought was, “Its Mammogram Day.” Now you might not think much of Mammogram Day, and I’ll have to admit that the process itself isn’t my favorite thing in the whole world. But I have a rule and we strictly adhere to the rule.

When I have my mammogram or various and sundry other ‘female’ yearly things done, I get a prize.

I’ve had this rule for as long as I can remember. Thing was…nobody but me adhered to the rules. And buying a prize for myself just didn’t make me feel as rewarded as having somebody else give the prize.

However, I recited my rule to Rocket Man when we were first married, just in case. You know what? He bit! He asked a very logical question, “What constitutes a prize?”

Here was my chance! I could set the parameter of prize-giving! I nonchalantly said, “Ohhhh….something like a piece of jewelry, dinner out, flowers…the usual. A Prize.”

He nodded and said, “Okay.”

Okay? Could it be that easy? I love prizes! He asked what I would like for that particular mammogram and I told him I was in need of a long silver chain to wear with several pendants. Presto! I had a chain. This was going to work splendidly!

Since I try to be fair, I asked him if there was anything he had to do that was unpleasant and offered to give him a prize for that, but he didn’t seem to think he was in need of prize-receiving. Guess that is a Mars/Venus thing.

Over the years we have adjusted the prize giving and receiving. He has taken me to lunch at my choice of restaurant, he has given me flowers, and my favorite of all…he finally told me to just pick out a prize and he would pay for it. Can you believe it?

The most precious prize giving for a mammogram happened several years ago when I found a lump in my breast. I was terrified and rushed to the doctor. Of course, it happened on a Friday and the next emergency mammogram appointment wasn’t until the following Tuesday. Just hearing the words ‘emergency’ and ‘mammogram’ in the same sentence made my blood turn cold.

That was a long, long weekend. To make matters worse, Rocket Man was leaving for a meeting in Houston that he really couldn’t get out of, short of me being in surgery. Too many people were scheduled to attend and he was vital to the meeting. Besides, it was only a mammogram. Really. I think I’m big…so I said I could have that done without him. After all, they wouldn’t let him accompany me into that cold room where they keep the torture device. No boys allowed! It was probably nothing anyway. Only a very few people knew that I was going to have it done. No sense in getting folks stirred up for no good reason.

That Tuesday, the downstairs Administrative Assistant came parading into my office with the most beautiful dozen red roses that I have ever seen. They took my breath away. The card read, “A Prize Before You Go! All My Love, Ed.”

What a darling man! That mammogram showed a lump that needed to be biopsied, but the biopsy results were that the lump was benign. He was in the room with me, holding my hand when the biopsy was taken. That was the really scary part. Don't you think that benign is one of the most beautiful of all the words in the English language? I do!

So this afternoon, I’m off to get squashed. Then, I believe I will stop at Hobby Lobby and get some sort of Christmas decoration. That will serve quite nicely as my prize!