Every year around Christmas time for the past few years, I've had this awful phone call. "This is the breast imaging clinic. Please call us at your earliest convenience."
Which means it's time for the annual mammogram. I had one a few years ago because my doc thought it would be a good idea, since there's a history of breast cancer in my family. Then they thought they saw something abnormal, so I've been subjected to twice-a-year mammos for a while. I'm down to one a year now, with them thinking I'm looking fine with no worries.
But they call two weeks before freaking Christmas. Who wants to get their boobs squished and poked and prodded by heavy equipment during the holiday season? Non moi.
So when I called this a.m. to schedule the appointment, I pointed out to them that there was no huge rush. It could wait until after the first of the year. I don't need to worry over nothing. Particularly right now.