Dear mammogram,

It's always a bitch to see you. It's particularly annoying when you land on Valentine's Day.

That was not what my right breast had in mind.

Since my 40th birthday in July, I have had three mammograms. Two of them were diagnostic mammograms which, simply put, are discomforting.

I have this irrational fear that I will somehow piss off the tech and they will just leave me clamped in the machine and not return.

I mean where would I go? What would I do?

But mamomogram, that didn't happen and for that I am grateful. In fact, I feel truly lucky. There are no changes and I'm counting my blessings but I'm praying for all the ladies who I shared a waiting room with.

The women without their hair.

The women wearing medical masks so they don't catch any common germs that might drop their blood count.

The women fighting for what we all take for granted.

Our health.

And that health, well it can change with one unusual calcification.

And when you're in that room, mammogram, it all looks and feels so very random.

A spin of the wheel and what will you land on.

Today I spun the wheel and it said proceed as usual until July and then we'll take another look.

Until then, I will inhale and exhale.