It’s that time of year again. I know, because the Bradford pear trees are blooming, the pushy daylilies in my garden are nosing through the pine straw groundcover, and my neighbor’s azaleas are a riotous explosion of fuchsia and white. And let’s not forget the pollen dusting everything like powdered sugar over French toast, and the red-breasted robins that are so plentiful they’d take over the world if they could trade in their little bird feet for hands with opposable thumbs.
What’s that you say? The signs of spring? Why no, buttercup. My annual mammogram.
See, I take the girls for their annual Squish every April. A creature of habit, I would never dream of scheduling a Squish in December. That medical torture device is cold enough without adding the chill of winter. Besides, if I have to succumb to the indignity of having my ta-tas flattened to a mere shadow of their former selves (as if the poor girls don’t have self-esteem issues already) I’d rather do it on a day that is bright and bloomy. Even if it rains, so what? April, remember? It’s supposed to rain, and when it does the blossoming things look so happy. Ever seen a daffodil turn its face from a good spring shower?
The point is, if I have to engage in something unpleasant, I’d rather it be done on an otherwise cheery day. So my annual Squish, a must-do for every woman over the age of 40, occurs in April.
When is your annual Squish? If you don’t know, you should. The Squish isn’t something to be forgotten or trifled with. Even if you have no family history of breast cancer, why risk it when mammography can offer early detection and cure?
If you’re past due for your mammogram, schedule it today. And next year when you spy those first green sprouts destined to be daffodils, when you catch wrens nesting in the hanging baskets on your patio, you’ll hear a little voice in the back of your mind holler, “Squish!” and you’ll know it isn’t in reference to the suicidal squirrel that just darted in front of your car. No ma’am. It’s a shout out to your girls.
Take care of them. You only have two.
See you next time –