Official diagnosis: Bupkis!
I squirmed through a slippery sonogram of both my breasts today (they throw in the goop for free) and it turned up a screenful of stuff that looks a lot like the surface of Mars. No signs of life. I thought I saw something shaped vaguely like a hat -- which could have been the Monopoly piece or Carmen Sandiego (thanks, Lior) -- but it was just a tiny lymph node.
I'm to return in a couple weeks for a baseline mammogram... and all I can think about is California Pizza Kitchen. Next time you eat at CPK, take a peek behind the counter where they prepare the crust: They stick a round lump of dough between two circular steel slabs, pull a lever that clamps them together, and when they finally let go that dough is as wide and flat at the plate they'll serve it on.
Man, I could really go for a pizza right now.
Thank you, everyone, for your concern and for keeping the gag going; I enjoyed a few chuckles this week that helped the days fly by.