Ode To The Mammogram
For several years they've told me,
"Be careful of your breasts.
Don't ever bruise or hurt them,
And give them monthly tests."
So I heeded all their warnings
And protected, both, they are!
I've guarded them most carefully,
And always worn a bra.
After thirty years of tender care,
The doctor found a lump.
He ordered me a mammogram,
To look inside that bump.
"Stand up very close," she said,
As she got my breast in line,
"And tell me if it hurts," she said,
"Ah yes, there… that's fine!"
She stepped upon a pedal…
I could not believe my eyes!
A plastic plate was pushing down,
My boob was in a vice!
My skin was stretched and stretched,
From way up by my chin.
And my poor breast was being squashed
To Swedish pancake thin!
Excruciating pain I felt,
Within this vice-like fit.
A prisoner in this vicious thing…
My poor, defenceless tit!
"Breathe deeply, now," I heard her say.
Who does she think she's kidding?
My chest's been smashed in her machine -
Can't breathe, can't do her bidding!
"There, that was good," I heard her say,
As the room was slowly swaying.
"Now, let's have the other one."
Lord, have mercy, I was praying!
It squeezed me from the up and down,
It squeezed from each side.
I'll bet she's never had this done
Upon her tender little hide!
If I had no problem when I came here,
I'm sure I'll have one now.
For if there'd been a cyst in there,
It would have popped - ker-pow!
This machine was made by men,
Of this I have no doubt.
I'd like to get their nuts in there -
For months they'd go without!