It is my opinion, that we have come a long way when it comes to technology. We can see into the brain without cutting it open. We can see the inside of a home from the comfort of our own homes before buying it just by entering the address. We can now meet virtually and enjoy the company of family and friends and not even get out of our beds. I used to think that the fax machine was the most awesome piece of technology ever invented; the fact that I could actually send a document to someone and that person would have it in hand in just a few minutes, no matter how far away from my location they were, was fascinating to me. Today, we can simply scan a document or email it as an attachment or take a photo of it with our phones and upload, attach, and send it. Technology has, indeed, come a long way. So would somebody please tell me why it is such an ordeal to check breasts for cancer.

I went to the doctor the other day, and the nurse reminded me that I had not been back for a mammogram in three years. I couldn't believe it had been that long since I had returned. But once she started rattling off instructions to me, I remembered why.

First of all, the machine resembles a 9 or 10 foot, unwelcoming, black and white robot. The room is small and unassuming and somewhat dark. The nurse stood behind a computer on the other side of the small room as I stood in the middle of the room between her and the robot. Eventually, she instructed me to open my gown, and step close to the machine. She walked up behind me and grabbed my right boob and laid it on the cold shelf. I complained, as I always do, "why is this thing so cold?" Isn't there some way to at least warm it up?" I thought to myself, 'a man must have designed this damn thing, because I know good and well that if a man had to lay his penis on this cold tray, somebody would find a way to warm it up.'

"Step closer, lift your right arm, cross your left eye, grab the left side of the machine with your left toe, stick your ass out, and keep your tummy tucked in. Look up and to your right. Now hold your breath for 10 minutes and don't move," instructed the nurse.

The nurse stepped back to her area, pressed a few buttons and instructed the machine to press down on my boob. It bit into me and squeezed until it was satisfied. I thought about how many years I wore a bra to bed in order to keep gravity from dragging my boobs southward. For years, I was proud of my accomplishment. But, every single year (with the exception of the last three) I have allowed the monster to have its way as it mashed down and destroyed, single-handedly, my progress.

Now, time for the other side instructed the nurse. "You're doing great," she said. What she didn't know was that the experience upset me to the point of giving me a mild asthma attack. I wheezed in silence and said not a word for fear that the nurse would not finish the grueling assignment and force me to come back another time to start the process all over again.

"Okay, step close to the giant, black and white, unwelcoming, very cold monster and lay your left boob on the chilled tray," instructed the nurse. lift your left arm, cross your right eye, grab the right side of the machine with your right toe, stick your ass out, but tuck your tummy in. Look up and to your left with your right eye. Now hold your breath for 10 minutes and don't move," instructed the nurse.

As I held myself in place, forcing myself not to breath, struggling with the coldness against my skin, I thought that the next time I have to experience this awful process, I will first prepare by slamming both my tits in my stainless steel refrigerator door several times so that I don't throw my body into shock when the monster starts its assault.

"You're all done now. Here's a chap stick for you," the nurse said as I walked out of the room feeling assaulted; the chap stick did nothing to soothe my nerves. I left there, got in my car, and drove my car to Burger King and got not one but two breakfast sandwiches and ate my stress away.