The girls are fine, thank you. They squished me again (I do NOT squishy heart the squishing) and the doctor says that the little whatevers that made him unhappy the last time were merely the result of weird squishing the last time. It's all good.
I almost cheered when they told me, but walking out I heard someone in another room mention scheduling surgery. Then saw the tear-stained face of another woman passing me. And remembered why I was there in the first place. And left very, very grateful.
If you're over forty and haven't done it this year, schedule a mammogram. Do it now. Don't be that tear-stained woman in the pink room (Good lord, people - the entire place, including the parking lot, was PINK). Pick up the phone.
Until I write again ...