Remember the 70’s commercial that asked: How do you spell relief? And the reply was: R-o-l-a-i-d-s. Well, here in Carpenter Country, the short one has come up with an entirely different response.
It all started the other day when her mammogram report arrived with a notice that a more extensive scan was needed.
The only info she could get when she called her doctor’s office was her first scan showed calcification in an area where there shouldn’t have been any–and the appointment for another screening was a week away.
For seven days all kinds of ‘what if‘ scenarios danced through her head.
On the morning of the second scan, the short one arrived early, changed into that wonderful abbreviated gown handed out in most mammogram rooms, stood in front of the x-ray machine and watched part of herself get compressed into a pancake.
“Have a seat in the dressing room,” she was told when the procedure was over.
Five minutes of floor pacing passed – followed by ten minutes of fingernail chewing. At that point the tech walked into the room and said, “You can go. Everything looks okay.”
The short one jumped up, sang out, “Thank you, thank you!” and headed for the door.
“Wait,” the tech said on a laugh, “You should change back into your own clothes before you leave.”
The short one looked down at the short open shift she’d forgotten she was wearing. “Good idea,” she replied, wondering if the butterflies in her stomach had flown up to addle her brain.
And that’s when the old commercial popped into her head.
How do you spell relief?