David Arioch – Jornalismo Cultural

I just stayed in the hallway (Photo: Copy)

Some time ago, I was dating a girl who lived in a very small apartment. So, whenever I picked her up, when she was in the bath, we had the habit of talking through the door. I did not come in, just stood in the hallway. One day, an elderly woman, who lived in the apartment next door, opened the door and appeared wrapped in a towel, asking me to keep my voice down, because she felt vulnerable at the sound of my voice. I apologized and she replied:

“Don’t you realize that I’m naked? Only with this towel over my body? I don’t want to hear your voice, it brings me uncomfortable memories. I just don’t want to hear it! Don’t you understand?” I was confused, but I answered that I understood. She didn’t believe me, and told me that I should not speak in the hallway, because she felt uncomfortable. She claimed that I was interfering with her privacy of feeling naked and free. She said that my voice was invading her body.

I was scared and worried. I started knocking on the door and my girl said she would come out soon. The elderly woman continued watching me from afar, with a questioning look, very weird and challenging. Dissatisfied, she opened the door a little more and her eyes widened. Even faltering, I stated:

“Look, lady, I’m just waiting for my girl here. Please, I don’t want confusion. Perhaps, you are very sensitive. Forgive me if I did something wrong.” Startled, she frowned and shouted: “What? How dare you, motherfucker!” Then, she dropped the towel, opened the door, took two steps completely naked and stared at me fixedly.

Embarrassed, not knowing how to react, I observed the right wall and kept my eyes on a fixed point. Before closing the door, the lady scowled and shouted, “You pig!” several times. Seconds later, my girl came out and we got out of there as quickly as possible.

It was 7:50 a.m., and the sun lit up the room with an intensity that relegated the lamps lit to uselessness

After having my chest pressed several times and in several positions, I left the examination room (Photo: Copy)

Today, I went to a clinic for an examination. Once there, I gave the health plan request to the receptionist and she asked: “Who’s the patient? Where is your wife?” I answered that I was the patient. Embarrassed, the girl apologized. For a moment, I wanted to laugh as I remembered her saying: “Where is your wife”, but I didn’t want to leave her embarrassed. Once she confirmed my data and handed me a pink badge written MAMMOGRAPHY, I understood why she asked “Who’s the patient? Where is your wife?”

With the identification of the examination in my hand, I walked to a quiet waiting room. It was 7:50 a.m., and the sun lit up the room with an intensity that relegated the lamps lit to uselessness. When they saw me, three women could not take their eyes off of my badge written MAMMOGRAPHY. And I was thinking, inert in a veiled smile and wordlessly: “Yes! I’m a man and I will do mammography. That’s it! Draw your conclusions. I can also have fun interpreting your thoughts.”

My pink badge sparkled even more with the warm incidence of the sun. It was aiming more strongly where I sat. No problem! It did not take too much time for the three women to be called to an exam room. Alone, I changed my place, because there was sunlight everywhere, warming my back, arms and face. I felt better when I could hide myself under a white wall.

I was standing there with my badge while the TV showed stories of corruption and cheating. I watched a guy saying that the electricity theft in Brazil corresponds to the energy consumed in the state of Paraná. OK! At that moment, everything seemed to revolve around energy, including the sun that was still sneaking in the window.

Soon the room began to fill, and no one avoided looking at my badge. “It’s all right! It’s all right! That’s right! I will do MAMMOGRAPHY”, I thought again. In the meantime, a friend, Rafael, saw me and came to congratulate me for my texts, which pleased me because it helped distract me from all the inquisitive looks.

I was at least 40 minutes waiting for my turn, which was unusual, since I saw people who arrived after me were being attended to before me. I got up, I went to the reception and I asked if it would take a long time for me to be attended. All around me, more people looked at my pink badge. In another waiting room, I saw someone pointing at me and commenting: “That boy will do mammography. That’s weird!”

They pronounced my name: “Davi”, not David, wich I hadn’t been called since I was a baby. I walked to the technical assistant in mammography and she apologized. She told me that the examination, in the way requested by the mastologist, required adjustments on the machine, explaining the delay. “Someone with breast cancer in the family?” I said no. I was there to make bilateral mammography with the intention to evaluate the disappearance of a mild gynecomastia.

After having my chest pressed several times and in several positions, I left the examination room feeling my marked chest and I walked to the exit. Before entering the streets, I heard a whispering woman close to the door: “I didn’t know men can also get breast cancer.” Without bothering to explain the reason for my visit to the clinic, I replied: “Well, lady, tell you husband and your sons to be very careful. The greatest danger comes when milk suddenly drips from the nipple. “Startled, she cowered in a corner with glazed eyes.