Mammogram
While I don't often admit it, I am just a tad bid obsessive compulsive. I do things like count stairs when going up AND when coming down, as if the number might have changed. And I worry too much. If I don't have something to worry about, well then, I worry about that. I am a moderate to over-the-top hyperchondriac. Show me a molehill and I'll see Mt. Everest; give me a hangnail and I'll practice writing with my opposite hand just in case I should need an operation; give me a little tiny cyst in my breast and, well, you can imagine where I'm going with that. Obviously the technicians who did my recent mamogram and ultrasound have had patients like me before. They were all business, showing no emotion, and making no eye contact. Of course, eye contact with "Brigitta" would have been impossible anyway as she was so short, her eyes only came up to my belly button. It was a little disconcerting to think that a woman who could barely reach my boobs was going to...