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"Good luck at the office."
"Good luck getting squished."
And with that, my daughter and I parted one recent school day. She was heading to a social studies field trip where she would become a newspaper editor for a day.
I was heading to the doctor's office to get, well, "squished."
"Squished" is what happens to your breasts during a mammogram. The procedure, as I told my daughter, is a reliable indicator of cancerous growth. I told her mammography can save lives. Still, this Baby Woman winced at the thought of her mother undergoing this life-saving torture.
I winced with the sudden recall that not too long ago I had "squished" veal between a cutting board and Saran Wrap and pounded it mercilessly for veal ...