I am, a bit. But not for the reasons you all might think. Or the reasons you might be obsessed with them.
See, I hit a critical point a little over a year ago with respect to these bad boys. Well, bad girls.
I turned 40. It's the year all women who don't have other risk factors are supposed to get their first screening mammogram. I'm fortunate enough that I don't have other risk factors, to be sure. But there is something a little nerve-racking, even about something that should be routine. The likelihood that they find something is small. But what if they do?
Breast cancer is a scary thing. Your lifetime chances of developing it are about 1 in 8. And while chances increase with age, it's not just a disease of old women. Unlike, say, prostate cancer. I'm not sure on the exact statistics, but if you guys are fortunate enough to live to the average male lifespan or beyond, there is a pretty good chance your prostrate cells go haywire and give it up to the big C. But breasts are funny things. You can have 90 year old breasts that (save for gravity) are as good as new; but you can lose them at 35 to an aggressive cancer in the blink of an eye.
And its not just about statistics. Its about real people. Like my roommate/suitemate from college who's already been through it, the treatments, the lost hair, the lost breasts. All before the age of 42.
Seems like an easy fix, and eventually, it just is something I have to do. But there always seems to be one good excuse or another. First it was that we switched from being a military family to a civilian family, and I didn't have free dependant health care and had to find a new provider. Then it was we moved, and I have to find a new provider. And the excuses are supplemented by things like the fact that I haphazardly check myself and haven't found anything. And the fact that my husband is a doctor and periodically checks (though between you and me, I think somewhere in the process he gets distracted and it loses its medical efficacy).
The excuses will eventually run out, and I'll eventually go to the doctor, but it will likely be because I need my migraine prescription refilled and not because I'm so diligent about my preventative care.
I take my kids to get their shots and their teeth cleaned. I take my car to get it tuned up. I budget. I just need to make that call - be willing to give up an hour in my day to let some machine give me a squeeze and spit out the images for someone like my husband to read.
Piece of cake, right?