Now there's a post title I bet you'll never see anywhere outside a suicide bomber rants board.
All went well with my mammo, and after much bullying and blackmailing I got to take a look at the pics. Naturally they'll have to be officially reviewed -- the pics, not my womanly curves -- but everything appears to be spot- and shadow-free.
I try not to be a militant snot about health checkups, but since Darlene and Robin have already posted good reminders in comments, I'd like to chime in. You ladies out there, please get regular pap smears and, if you're over forty, annual mammograms. Gentlemen, you need prostate exams. I know they're a pain, they're uncomfortable, they're embarrassing, you don't have time, etc. I don't care. Call your doctor. Schedule them. Have the tests done. If you need a why, my guy and I are both cancer survivors only because we take these tests every year, and we found out early enough to stomp the big C.
I did better on the treadmill this year (translation: I didn't fall off, didn't lacerate anything, didn't scare the tech out of his wits by bleeding all over him, etc.) Test results are pending, but the doc didn't have that pinched look around his mouth like he did before I went on my all-whole-wheat-all-the-time diet, so I'm taking that as a good omen.
I still can't believe people pay big bucks to join a gym and voluntarily run on those treadmills, though. What if you have a cramp or an itch on your ankle? What if your shoelace comes untied? What if you turn around to say hey to a pal? You fall on your ass, is what. Okay, if you're me. . .