I’m so excited about our special guest today! Please help me welcome author Stacy Eaton to the blog. She’s sharing a very important guest post that will make you smile, laugh, grimace and hopefully schedule a mammo if you are due for one and have been putting it off. This is a subject near and dear to me because my sister is a mammographer, and I also work at a hospital where one of my tasks is scheduling those all important mamms. And I’ve had some great conversations with several of the women I’ve scheduled. There’s something about a mamm that brings us ladies together…hmmm, dare I say sisterhood of the dreaded boob smash? lol
Stacy is also sharing her latest release Six Days of Memories! I absolutely love the cover, but if you check out Stacy’s other books you’ll see that all her covers are incredible. And there is one quote in particular from Jay that Stacy listed in her favorite quotes that sold me on this book. Yep, I just bought my copy!
Congrats on your latest Stacy…and take it away…
Talking about the Dreaded Boob check!
Christine – thank you so much for having me here today! I’m excited to be visiting and share my guest post today!
Ladies – we all have them, or have had them at one time in our lives. They are called breasts. Often called one of the following: Tits, ta ta’s, melons, twins, mountains or mole hills, boobs, the oingo bongo twins, hooters, the girls, fun bags, pillow, lovelies or bosom.
No matter what you call them, having them can be a pain in the, well for lack of a better word, tit. If you have reached the age of 35, chances are your doctor has passed along a medical order for you to go get your baseline mammogram. I know that I had heard stories about how horrible it was from older woman, but I think when I turned 35 and got that order, I was almost excited. Not excited to have the test, but to know that I had reached that age where I was considered a woman and needed to keep track of what was going on in my body. Of course, once I had the first mammogram, I dreaded turning 40 and having to get another one.
Now at 45, I have had several of them and I wanted to share a story about my latest one. Those of you who have had them, will feel my pain, and those of you who haven’t will laugh. Well, you’ll laugh until you have to have your own, then you’ll fall into the other category!
So, I missed last years mammo. I know, My Bad. I know better, I really do. Over the last two years, I can think of at least five women I personally know who were diagnosed with breast cancer. But after having a few of them, the thought of purposely going in so they could physically hurt me was not something I looked forward too. Actually, doing a re-certification with the Taser at the police department I work for would have been more fun. But I finally made the appointment and went.
My appointment was early. I was the first person of the day, 7:00 am. I’m bright and chipper and ready to get the squashing over so I can get to work. I remembered not to wear deodorant, and had slipped it into my purse to put on afterwards. I changed into that pretty pink gown they give you and headed off to the exam room.
My technician was a nice older woman. It was obvious that she was good at her job and took away the last minute unease I was feeling with having the test. She chatted while she got things ready and by the time I had to slip my arm out of my gown and she started the process I was relaxed and ready to get it over with.
What a difference there is when you have a man grasping your boob in a sexual way, compared to the clinical plopping of the fatty flesh onto the cold platform of the mammogram machine. A chill goes up my spin at the temperature difference of being close to my body, to being pulled straight out and dropped down with a thud. (Yes, I have big boobs)
Do me a favor, the next time you hear a man complain about having to go to the doctor and have his balls fondled while he turns his head an coughs, smack him upside the head. Yeah, that might be uncomfortable for what, 5 seconds? They have no clue!
So the technician is pulling and stretching and contorting my body. Put your arm here, grasp that, roll your shoulders, step closer, turn your head, bend your knees and you are getting up close and personal with a large standing piece of metal and plastic. Then… oh God! Then she says, now don’t move and the clear plastic clamps come down. Okay, uncomfortable. She tugs at the tissues and pulls it further in. It clamps harder, and I wince. She pulls the nipple straight out and pushes and prods the breast tissue so it all fits under the clear tray. I think by the way she is pulling me that she has part of my ribs and lung under there too. That has to be the reason why when she clamps it down again, I can’t breathe.
Thank God my knees are bent, or they would have buckled. “Just a little bit more.” She says and pulls my now squashed mass of flesh tighter. I glance down. My boobs which are borderline D-E cups can’t be more than 1 ½” thick. My forehead breaks out in sweat, my breathing is shallow. It clamps again and I want to pass out. “Okay, now just hold right there.”
WHAT? Where am I supposed to go? Even if the floor fell out from underneath me, my right boob is so far squashed under the plexiglass that my feet would be dangling in mid air. So, she steps away, my hand is gripping the handle so freaking hard it is cramping. I’m breathing through my teeth in pants. I want to freaking scream, cry! Get my firearm out and shoot myself to end the pain! “Okay, hold your breath.” I clamp my eyes shut trying to shut out the pain, the noise of the machine moving, the string of fowl words reading to take possession of my mouth and hold my breath.
Relief like you have never imagined explodes over you as the machine automatically releases you for its confines. I cradle my poor boob to my chest with both hands, saying tender words of love to it while in the back of my mind I’m wondering if I will ever let my husband touch it again. I think it is bruised for life.
Guess what? Time for the second one. Wow, did I really make this appointment myself? I wasn’t held at gun point and dragged in here? Nope, this is important I tell myself. This helps prevent breast cancer. Fine, I’ll suck it up and allow her to abuse my second boob.
The process is the same. Same pain, same can’t breathe, can barely stand feeling and then I am free. I flee the room! Run back to the changing room and put on my deodorant and pull on my shirt. She’s waiting for me. “Your doctor will call you in two days with the results.” She smiles and walks away.
I’m outta there! Free for another year! Thank you God! I climb into my car and head off to work. My boobs are aching and tender. I kept hugging them to my chest in hopes that will help. When I get to work, I’m standing in my office hugging myself. I still freaking hurt! I take some Tylenol and an hour later, the pain is gone.
When I get home that night I have a message on my machine. “Hello Stacy, It’s the Radiology department, we need you to call us back.” Really? You leave that message on my home phone? You have my cell number! Why didn’t you call that? Now I have to try and sleep and wait until morning to call.
The next morning, I’m tired and cranky. I make the call and guess what… they need me to come back for more torture because there were some areas of concern.
Great – I am just getting over the mental anguish of the first one and now I’m going back for more.
But it’s worth it!
If I go back and they say I have something that needs to be further checked, it’s worth the pain. My life is worth the two hours of discomfort. My family is worth it. Every woman out there is worth it! Don’t put off your mammogram! Even though they suck! Get it done! It could save your life!
A few days later I went back for more tests, luckily it was a cyst in one breast and dense tissue in the other. While we might hate to have this one – it’s important to do so – and now I feel so much better having made the appointment.
Detective Natasha Foster will put her job on the line to prove her gut feeling is dead on.
When Detective Foster responds to the scene of a crash, she finds the female passenger dead, a bag full of money in the back seat and a body in the trunk. It is only when the driver, whom she nicknames Jay, wakes up with no memory that she must go with her instincts and continue the investigation in a way that was never taught.
Jay finds himself lost, but drawn to the beautiful detective who steps above and beyond the call of duty. His need to know if he was a victim or the criminal pushes him to try and recall what happened and who he is. With the pull of a trigger, Jay’s memory will suddenly return and with it, the terrible truth.
Excerpt – Chapter 7 – Jay
Normal people wake up with random thoughts filling their mind; little remnants of things they did the previous day or a list of stuff that was on their agenda for the day. Not for me, though.
I woke up slowly, as if I was fighting to get above a heavy cloud. My mind was sluggish, dark, and for the most part empty. The only thing that raced through my brainwaves was the fact that I didn’t know what the hell was wrong with me.
I heard a beep and a female voice in my room say, “He’s waking up.”
Another voice spoke from right beside me, as if they were only inches from my head. “Okay, I’ll be right in.”
Right in where? You’re right next to my head! I tried to turn and see where the voice came from, but pain radiated through my neck so I stopped. I reached up to touch my neck and wondered why my hands felt so heavy. I blinked and realized I had something attached to one of my fingers. I blinked again. Where the hell am I?
“Hello, there?” the first woman said. She was wearing dark gray medical scrubs and had an ID hanging around her neck. The name printed in large letters was Julie.
I swallowed twice before I tried to speak. “Hello.”
Before the woman could say anything further, another woman in dark blue scrubs hustled into the room and directly toward me.
“Well, hello there, sir. Nice to have you back with us.” She smiled and glanced at the monitor near my head.
“Where am I?” I croaked through a dry throat, and tried to wet my lips with my sandpaper tongue.
“You’re in Fairview Memorial Hospital. Do you remember what happened to you?” The nurse drew her attention back to me as I tried to shake my head and winced. “Don’t try to move your neck. You have some minor swelling in your spine. The collar you are wearing will help give you support and limit your movements until the swelling goes down and we know if there is any damage. How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a truck,” I rasped. “Can I have some water?”
“I’ll let you have a few sips, but you need to be careful. You were in a car accident and have been unconscious for a while.” She stepped away and I heard the click of fingers on a keyboard. There must be a computer behind me, I thought.
She returned to my side. “Can you tell me your name?”
I stared into her face. She was probably around forty and her brown eyes were intent on mine. My name? “Um…” I searched my dark mind. What the hell is my name? I had no clue.
She put her hand on my arm. “Calm down, it can be very confusing when you wake up after an accident. Do you not remember your name?” I saw her glance up at a monitor. I didn’t have to look to know my heart was racing. I could feel it thudding in my chest.
“No, I can’t remember it,” I stated.
“What about where you live?” she asked slowly, turning her attention back to me.
“Is there anything you can tell me about yourself?” she questioned.
“I’m in a hospital.” I heard her chuckle.
“Okay, why don’t you rest for a little while? I’m going to let the doctor know you’re awake. I’m sure it will all come back to you soon.”
“Do you know what my name is?”
She stared into my eyes. “Nope, I was hoping you could tell me.” She patted my arm, allowed me to take a long sip of water from a straw, and then turned and left the room.
Barnes & Noble:
Favorite Quotes from Jay:
“I have thirty five years of memories, and yet the only ones I want to think about are the six days I was with you.”
“I’m sorry, you said no more of this, but I can’t. I just can’t leave you without one more.”
“Don’t you close those beautiful eyes from me! Don’t shut me out, Tasha.”
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Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Stacy-Eaton/e/B005KQIJY8/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
Stacy is a full-time police officer who enjoys crime scene investigation above all else, taking a passion in putting the pieces together to figure out the crime. She is also a business owner where she helps people get the awareness out for the causes they care most about. She is a mother of two, a son proudly serving in the United States Navy and a young daughter. Her husband is also in law enforcement. Stacy is also currently serving on the board of directors for her local domestic violence center. She is very much into photography and carries her Nikon Digital SLR with her almost everywhere, just in case.