This haunted house, allegedly voted the number one attraction in Kissimmee, is open all year around, so boyfriends and ghoul friends don't have to wait until Halloween to be scared half to death. (And what, I ask you, happens if a person is scared half to death... twice???)
How about THIS? On our way to Bok Tower Gardens, we passed a sign for Spook Hill. We saw something about this unusual place on some TV show a while back, so we wanted to take a quick detour to check it out.
Here's a closer look at the sign describing the legend of this weird stretch of road that seems to defy gravity. Not sure what the scientific explanation is, but the car definitely rolled... and it sure seemed like we were going uphill...
Again, not scary. But fascinating.
Wanta hear scary?
We were back home prior to Halloween, and appropriately enough, I celebrated the day by doing something that's really ghoulie and ghostie scary for a lot of women. I had a (shudder) mammogram.
Okeydoke, time for a rerun of last year's post about getting a mammogram, which was titled, Oh, Crap! It's That Time Again:
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Thought for the day: Since men undoubtedly invented the mammogram machine, I think it's only fair that women should be given the opportunity to invent an equally delightful machine to test men for testicular cancer.
As much as I dislike having to compress anything I've written, as much as I hate having to scratch through any of my words, I'd rather cut another 10,000 words from my WIP than do what I have to do tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I get my up close and personal annual compression. It's (gulp) mammogram time.
OMG! It's that time of year again. |
Alas, I forgot to forgo caffeine like I usually do the week before the big test, so I may regret that, but in preparation, I have been dutifully doing my exercises. Not the running around the block or stomach crunches kind of exercise. I still stink at doing that. But there are certain specialized exercises that can help any woman psyche herself up for her annual appointment with the torture machine. Out of the kindness of my heart, I share them with you:
EXERCISE #1
Put a pair of metal bookends in the freezer, and leave them there overnight.
Invite a stranger over to help.
Next day, strip from the waist up.
Have the stranger place one of your breasts between the bookends. (This may require considerable stretching.)
Have him/her smash them together and hold.
Repeat with the other breast.
EXERCISE #2
Open your fridge door and place one breast between the door and appliance.
Ask your biggest, strongest friend to slam the door on it, and to lean on it for a few seconds for good measure.
Hold your breath while (s)he holds the door shut.
Repeat with other breast.
EXERCISE #3
Go into your garage at 3 AM, take off all your clothes, and lie on the cold concrete floor. (If you don't have a garage, the driveway will suffice.)
Ask a pal to slowly back the car over your boob.
Turn over and repeat with the other one.
What a guy! |
OK, so maybe I exaggerate. (But not by much.)
Here's a poem that's been around for years, so you may have already seen it. Unfortunately, no one seems to know who wrote it, but now is the perfect time for me to share it with you. It's called
ODE TO A MAMMOGRAM
For years and years they told me,
Be careful of your breasts,
Don't ever squeeze or bruise them,
And give them monthly tests.
So I heeded all their warnings,
And protected them by law.
Guarded them very carefully,
And my bra I always wore.
After thirty years of astute care,
My doctor found a lump.
She ordered up a mammogram
To look inside that clump.
"Stand up very close," she said,
As she got my boobs in line,
"And tell me where it hurts," she said.
"Ah, yes! There, that's fine."
She stepped upon a pedal.
I could not believe my eyes!
A plastic plate pressed down and down,
My boob was in a vise!
My skin was stretched and stretched,
From way up under my chin.
My poor boob was being squashed
To Swedish pancake thin.
Excruciating pain I felt
Within its vice-like grip.
A prisoner in this vicious thing,
My poor defenseless tit!
"Take a deep breath." she said to me.
Who does she think she's kidding?
My chest is mashed in her machine,
And woozy I am getting.
"There, that was good," I heard her say
As the room was slowly swaying.
"Now, let's have a go at the other one."
Lord, have mercy, I was praying.
It squeezed me from up and down,
It squeezed me from both sides,
I'll bet she's never had this done,
Not to her tender little hide!
If I had no problem when I came in,
I surely have one now.
If there had been a cyst in there,
It would have popped Ker-pow!
This machine was designed by man,
Of this I have no doubt,
I'd like to stick his balls in there,
And see how they come out!
***
On a serious note, breast cancer is nothing to laugh about, and every woman should be diligent about getting those annual mammograms, no matter how much we fear or dislike them. I've lost several dear friends to breast cancer, and I'll bet you have, too. Do yourself and your family a favor: if you haven't had your test yet this year, call and make that appointment. Please. And men, make sure the ladies in your life take care of themselves, too. It's perfectly understandable to be terrified of the Big C, but it's irrational to fear the mammogram. Face those fears, embrace your life, and get that test!
Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.
Tomorrow, I get my up close and personal annual compression. It's (gulp) mammogram time.
ReplyDeleteWorked on medical x-ray equipment for a while and you ladies have my deepest sympathies having to deal with those machines.
Thanks. Those torture machines aren't fun, but they're a necessary evil. (And the process isn't really all thaaaat bad.)
ReplyDeleteI loved the picture of the ghoul in the car.
ReplyDeleteOur hospital got a new mammy machine and it is not as bad, not fun, but not as eye popping.
It's not my EYES I worry about popping!
DeleteOn the third picture, the guy behind the wheel, do you think he is the original owner?
ReplyDeleteWhy yes, yes I do. He's obviously a die-hard car buff.
DeleteWonderfully hilarious. It's been a while since I had the boob squishing done. The last time, the tech came out and said, Hi! I'm Pam. I'll be doing your mam.
ReplyDeleteI thought I'd fallen into Seuss mammogramland.
Love,
Janie
Okay, Seuss or no Seuss, it's time for YOOSE to get them thar tatas squeezed again, kiddo. (And I'm no talking about Elvis, either...) Take care of yourself, okay?
DeleteOld Town in Kissimmee and Spook Hill Road are on my list of places to visit!
ReplyDeleteSpook Hill isn't far from Bok Tower Gardens. Kinda neat. Old Town, I really enjoy. Especially on Friday and Saturday nights. (Sometimes, they have a swap meet on Saturday mornings, too.) Lots of fun shops, too. Some rides, too, but that isn't my thing.
DeleteI'd like to see the Spook Hill road, I have heard of similar places but have never been to one myself.
ReplyDeleteBreast Cancer is a serious subject and keeping yourself checked is so important, the Mammogram scenario is not one I would want to go through myself but am proud that the technology is there to make sure all of you ladies are fine.
My wife had hers done already and thumbs up on the results, Thank you for bringing this to the attention of everyone in a humorous manner.
Spook Hill is pretty neat. It seems to defy gravity, but there must be a scientific explanation, right? Or an optical illusion, or something. Still, it's kinda fun. Glad to hear Mrs. Jimmy got a thumbs up on her mammogram.
DeleteLOL! that free mammogram guy made me laugh. I haven't had a mammogram yet, sounds delightful! I think here in my country they start doing them at 55. Something to look forward to I guess :D
ReplyDeleteYeah, that guy's a real humanitarian, isn't he? HA! That cracked me up, too. I think the mammograms start here at 40. To tell the truth, I can't even remember for sure when I got my first one. Might have even been earlier. I sure am glad they're only once a year, though.
ReplyDelete