Good Luck?!

So, last week I went in to the clinic for my annual exam. I walked into the little (cold) room with the big (cold) piece of equipment that was going to compress my breasts. The very nice woman handed me a card, pulled a flimsy curtain partially shut and told me to undress to the waist and put the beautiful gown on, open to the front. Without a single question, I did as I was told and proceeded to approach the machine. Every man should have to do this . . . just once! Imagine having a relatively concealed part of your body placed on a cold piece of glass, one arm holding a bar above you, one holding onto a bar below you, a piece of plastic whirring down the column to press this relatively concealed part of your body into a pancake shape and then being told to put your chin up and hold your breath! Yeah, right!

Well, I managed to get through the few minutes of humiliation and get myself redressed, ready for my next appointment - the check of my nether regions. As I was waiting for the lab tech to come back, I decided to glance at the card she handed to me. As I turned it over, I noticed it was basically a business card with two words written on it that nearly made me laugh out loud . . . Good Luck!

Hello . . . was I supposed to read this before the compression process as good luck while she flattened each breast from into a vertical and horizontal pancake? Was I supposed to read this after the compression as her wishes for my patience as I wait a week or more for the results? Or was this simply her best wishes as I proceeded to have other, really concealed parts of my body probed and prodded? Perhaps she could have come up with a more appropriate two words that wouldn't leave me pondering the intent of her message: "Cozy compressions!" or "wishful waiting!" - or even "Pleasant Dreams!" But . . . Good Luck?!?!?!