Ode to Mamogram
For years ‘n 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,
An always wore a bra.
After thirty years of careful care,
The doctor found a lump,
He ordered up a Mammogram
To look inside that clump.
“Stand up very close,” she said,
As she got my tit in line,
“And tell me when it hurts,” she said,
“Ah, yes! There! That’s just fine.”
She stepped upon a pedal. . .
I could not believe my eyes!
A plastic plate was pressing down.
My boob was in a vise!!!
My skin was stretched ‘n stretched
From way up by my chin,
And my poor tit was being squeezed
To Swedish pancake thin!!!
Excruciating pain I felt,
Within its vise-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 smashed in her machine,
I can’t breathe and woozy I am getting.
“There, that was good,” I heard her say
As the room was slowly swaying. ”
Now let’s get the other one.”
“Lord, have mercy,” I was praying.
It squeezed me from the up and down,
It squeezed me from both sides,
I’ll bet she’s never had this done
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 made by a man,
Of this I have no doubt.
I’d like to get his balls in there,
For months, he’d go “without”!!
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