When I was a child, back in the 60’s, there were these ads in the back of comic books for Xray glasses that could see through clothes. One day in second grade, Tommy Craven, who sat next to me, came to school with a pair and began ogling the girls. “I see your underwear!” he shouted as girls squealed and ran away. I snatched those glasses from his hands, looked back at him, and called out, “I see right through your underpants!”
I’ve been thinking of those glasses this month after receiving both an inconclusive mammogram and ultrasound. So far my doctor has assured me I should not worry because my algorithm is good. (Even though I have many relatives with cancer.) And there are lots of women in my category, lots of women with impenetrable breasts. Between 50 and 90% depending on which study you read. And which algorithm is used. But then, she changed her mind. And so now I am in another waiting room, hoping my algorithm will protect me.
While waiting, I’ve been reading various poems to distract me. What else can you read in a waiting room? Certainly not the news . . . Like Denise Duhamel, I’ve been reading Ellen Bass.
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Author: Nin Andrews
