Memo to all: If you have time for a latte, you have time for a mammogram.
Pastrami a go-go and other wry tales of the city #37
Up to the left. Over to the right. Feet straight. Move in. Right arm up and over. Not good. Hold your breath. No!. You’re not following directions. This isn’t going to work. Lift it up. Over to the side. Tilt your head. Step back.
I moved my feet in.
To the right. A step in. Chin up. As high up as you can get. Don’t go anywhere.
Where was I going?
This was the annual dance with a mammogram machine.
When I was about 29, I felt a lump in my left breast. My family doesn’t have a history of breast cancer but I still recall a story told by my grandmother. Her older sister, my great-aunt Stema Attas, had confided that she felt a mass in her breast. This was in the 1960s, when awareness, detection, and treatment were not as advanced as it is today. Auntie Stema finally went to see a doctor and by that time, it was too late. The cancer had spread. She died at the age of 70 in 1971.
My gynecologist referred me to a specialist who decided that my walnut size lump was likely a mass of fibrous tissue and not cancerous. A biopsy was inconclusive. I could watch it, he proposed. Or I could have it removed. Those were my options. What did “wait to see what happens” mean? At 29, I didn’t know anyone with breast cancer and the friends my age were more focused on their careers than health. I only told one or two friends, not my mother and not relatives who would worry. I didn’t get much sleep, afraid of being the one in eight women diagnosed with breast cancer.
So there I was, wheeled into surgery as an outpatient, lines of white fluorescent lights above me a blur of white and the stretcher clattering along the tiled floor.
I chatted with the surgeon as he began his work.
“How does your wife feel about you touching breasts all day?’ I wondered woozily.
“More anesthesia!” he called out.
The results, thankfully, were negative.
For several years after that, mammograms twice a year were required. Then scattered bursts of microcalcifications showed up.
There I was in surgery again, chatting it up and interviewing the surgeon and taking pains to point out to the anesthesiologist, “Your hands looks swollen. You should have that checked out.”
At my follow up visit, I asked my doctor if I talked to much during the surgery
“Oh, no,” he said in animated protest, looking upwards. “Not a bit.”
Well, this all might be humorous but it must have been a distraction because he left a guidewire in. It’s still there. Note to self.
The American Cancer Society recommends that women between the ages of 45 to 54 get a mammogram every year with women from 40 to 44 having the option to screen every year. Do it.
Mammogram machines have become more sophisticated and tests results arrive much faster these days. For those worried about Covid and cleanliness, machines are thoroughly wiped down before and after usage. You can request that the mammographer wear a mask.
A self-exam, as I did and do, does not replace a yearly mammogram. I’ve been sent for sonograms and biopsies using a gigantic needle straight of out Little Shop of Horrors when shadows showed up on mammograms.
A male friend once asked me it felt like. For some women, it’s not that painful. For other women, like me, I feel a sharp wincing pain as my breasts are pushed, squeezed, and squashed into position. The mammographer said that smaller breasts could be more painful. Less tissues, same pressure.
“Imagine placing your—.” My interrupted me, that light bulb of enlightenment switching on. “Oh, wait. I get it,” he said.
If something doesn’t feel right, get it checked out. Most preventative mammograms are covered by health insurance with no out of pocket costs. Some non-profits have mammogram buses that they sent throughout New York City. The American-Italian Cancer Foundation is one of them.
Breast Cancer Awareness Month is every October. But you don’t need to wait until then. Make your mammogram appointment today. Early detection for everyone, not matter how you identify, is imperative. Transgender men, trans women, and non-binary people can also develop breast cancer.
Results are in. My 38Ds are fine. Making my appointment for next year.
Humorously told, except when your fear comes roaring through. Glad you wrote this one.