between 3-4 pm on Friday I was at the hospital. I went from the waiting room to the exam room and got my breasts smooshed repeatedly for a mammogram. Then I was ushered back to a different waiting room where I was told I could wait yet again, up to an hour, but I could help myself to juice, water, or graham crackers. C’mon! I’m not 5 years old. While waiting, I couldn’t help overhear the other women talking. Apparently, I was in the diagnostic waiting room where they put women who have something suspicious found in the mammogram. Great. I just wish someone had said this to me. I was nervous as it was, but I was listening to women talk about suspicious lumps, blood coming from their nipples, and one woman who actually had dealt with breast cancer. Finally, it’s my turn and they want to do more images. So here we go again. This is one of the dirty little secrets that women keep from other women. Find a woman who will actually tell you what a mammogram is like — I dare you. They had to take clearer pictures, which meant that they had to squish my breast flatter and flatter for the image. To say it didn’t hurt would be to lie. I am ushered back out to the waiting room again and I wait before I am called back yet again. This time, yes — they want more images. More squishing, more pain, but all for the greater good. Finally I am sent into speak with the radiologist.