The person who collects my contact and insurance information at the local breast health center seems vaguely apologetic when she tells me that the main waiting room is for women only. She directs me back to the reception area, where I take a seat again among a handful of other men, most of whom are presumably there waiting for wives or other female significant others. I grab a bottle of water from the “patients only” fridge, open my book back up, and bide my time until my name is called.
I am here for my mammogram.
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