SINSULL lives to jiggle another day. After two weeks of being poked, prodded, squeezed into inch thick layers, and slimed with ultrasound jelly, I have been pronounced cancer-free. False alarms like this make me wonder about the wisdom of an annual mammogram. The stress has shortened my life by at least three months and turned a dozen more hairs gray...but I slept thorough the night last night. And made contact with a doctor who can cut these babies down to size, quite literally, if I decide to go that route voluntarily.