I vote for Barney!
"If they stick me with the Mammogram technician I had last time, so help me, I'll sue 'em," Mrs. G fumed, arms crossed and lips pursed. That didn't sound good! What on earth happened? I mean, all women fuss and whine about their yearly Mammogram, but none had ever threatened to sue before. Sure, one patient equated her mammogram screening to a cement roller squeezing her from a 38 DD to a 32 AA and another claimed she now knew what it felt like to be run over by a Mack truck. But Mrs. G must have had a dreadful experience. "What happened?" I inquired.
The technician crammed Mrs. G's ample breast into the two metal Mammogram plates and cranked up the pressure until her breast was thinner than a crepe. She was about to snap the X-ray when her cell phone rang. Instead of ignoring her personal phone call and completing the Mammogram, the technician abandoned her patient and bolted to the adjoining room to answer her phone. Meanwhile, there stood Mrs. G, topless, arm extended into an awkward position, and breast strangled by the merciless mashing Mammogram machine. Imagine Mrs. G's disgust when she overheard the following phone conversation from the next room:
"I know Josh likes Thomas Tank Engine, but he loves Barney. And Barney would look so adorable on his cake."
Apparently, the husband thought Barney was too "girlie" because the technician added, "There's nothing sissy about Barney for a three-year-old."
Mrs. G grit her teeth. She left me stranded in this torture device to discuss a kid's birthday party?
The technician droned on. "We can always do Thomas Tank Engine next year and I saw the cutest little Barney cups and plates and napkins. . ."
Unable to stand the pain another second, my patient hollered, "I vote for Barney. Now get in here and get me out of this thing!"
Turns out, the technician thought she had loosened the X-ray plates before she took her personal phone call. She apologized for her mistake, but with a swollen, bruised breast, Mrs. G was in no the mood for excuses and after they completed the films, she stormed out swearing she would never come back.
My heart lurched when two days later her report came back stating she needed additional views to glean a more accurate picture of a questionable area. I dreaded the phone call so much I did what any physician would do-- I turfed the job to my nurse!