stickers and mammograms

In May, 2023, when I had to get a mammogram, I decided to lighten it up a bit.  I have a bunch of Frida Kahlo stickers, so I picked one that said, "Love me, because I adore you," and another that said, "Thank You."  

You know the procedure:  they have you go in and remove everything above the waist and have you put on a gown that opens in the front.  Then when it’s time, they stand you before the machine, and they help you take out your left arm to put your breast in the machine.  All done very seriously.   So, when I was in the dressing room, I put one sticker on each breast. 

Now, I had tried this once before a couple of years ago, and the tech just said, “You’ll have to take those off.” No sense of humor. 

But this time, when Julie (the technician) uncovered my left breast, she saw the sticker and said, "What is this?"  I looked her right in the eyes and said, "That is for you."  She actually bent over double laughing.  So, after she recovered, she asked, "What does the other one say?"  I showed her, and she said, "May I have them?" Sure.

So right then, she went over to her desk and drew a picture of two breasts and put a sticker on each one.  She showed it to me.  Then she folded the paper so the picture was hidden, and it opened in the middle like curtains on a stage.  She said, "Now when I tell people I can show them what I saw."  I had never had so much fun at a mammogram.  I’ve had a lot of fun telling this story to my friends, who, I suspect, only half-believed it. 

Today, July 31, 2026, I went back for my yearly mammogram. By now my sheet of stickers from the Unemployed Philosopher’s Guild is looking pretty ragged.  But I thought I’d use some one last time. Today the technician took me back and we started the procedure, and when she saw my stickers, she cried, “You’re the one!”

Turns out it was Julie. I hadn’t recognized her, but it was old home week there in the breast center while she was smashing my boobs and trying to keep my pacemaker out of it.  She said she had saved the little paper she had made and put it on her locker, but something had happened to it. 

I told Julie about my blog, and she wrote down the address. So Julie, if you read this, thank you for your sense of humor, for making a dreaded ordeal fun, and for a happy ending to my mammogram story.

And a belated thanks to Melanie who, years ago, made me a little pottery bowl with Frida Kahlo's face on it and gave me a card with stickers.