Now that Breast Cancer Awareness Month has come and gone I finally feel ready to share my experience with my very first mammogram in hopes that telling women what I was not told will take some of the sting (squeeze, ouch, and ugh) out of the experience. I turned 40 this summer. It wasn't too bad. A few grey hairs, a few stretch marks, a few laugh lines. Nothing major. Except for that first time baseline mammogram looming in the back ground. All my friends said, "No problem. It's no big deal." I was still moderately concerned. First of all because, although I don't have an MD or a PhD I understand enough about simple physics to have slight terror.
You see, I'm a barely there A cup and I know there is no stinking way it is easier to squeeze a barely there A in between two metal plates than it is a C or a D. Simple physics.
So, on the day of the dreaded ta ta photo session I went in with a bit of concern. Put on my stylish little gown, open in the front of course, headed into the imaging room. The sweet little 20 something tech told me to place my left breast on the metal plate. I told her she was being optimistic. She chuckled....and then proceeded to pull skin from down around my ankles to place in the machine. She then asked me to do Downward Facing Dog. No not really, but she did ask me to place my arm up here, lean in there, twist over here. It didn't take long. It was uncomfortable, but not painful. I'm standing there thinking I've just totally conquered this whole ordeal.
I'm patting myself on the back. Until I hear, "Hmmmmm."
"Hmmmmmm," you say?? Nope. Not what you would like to hear. She turns the screen my direction. I see lots of white streaks that look something like cirrus clouds. The tech explains that this could be dense breast tissue. Cancer is white, dense breast tissue is white. This makes my mammogram harder to read. My turn to say, "Hmmmmm." She explains that they will likely call me back for a second mammo and ultrasound.
Not exactly what you want to hear on your first go at this.
So, I go home and immediately get on the internet and look for anything about dense breast tissue (because apparently I haven't figured out that diagnosing one's self on the internet is the dumbest thing you can do). What I read was both frightening and reassuring. I read that dense breast tissue makes you 4 to 5 times more likely to develop breast cancer. I also read that breast tissue becomes less dense as you age and younger women (that's me) sometimes have denser tissue. I read there just really isn't a whole lot you can do about dense tissue. So I waited for the call telling me I needed to go again and have another mammo. Two days later I received a letter that I was all clear.
That was a relief, but I started to wonder. Had I done my part of the job yet? I don't smoke, haven't had to start using hormones, and I'm not over weight. I was starting to feel rather smug. Then I got to the part about how brisk walking a few times a week can cut your risk of breast cancer about 15%. Yeah, about that. I've been too "busy" to walk. Then I read about how a healthy diet helps cut your risk further. I eat plenty of fruits and vegetables, but I'm thinking the chili dogs and chips may not fit the bill.
I began to come to a realization. I can't do anything about dense breast tissue or the fact that I didn't breast feed. I can't do anything about my family history or the fact that I'm a barely there A. But I can tell you this, I don't want to walk in to next year's mammogram and have that nagging thought in the back of my mind that I didn't quite do everything I could do to ward off this hateful disease. So I'm going to walk and eat well and stop stressing. I'm going to do what I can to make sure that next year at this time I have done my part to make sure I will be here to homeschool our kids and tuck them in until they are 20. I'm going to encourage all my not quite 40 friends that are dreading their first mammogram.
I'm going to remember those who have lost their battle with breast cancer and those that are fighting. And I'm going to fight for my own health, one mammogram at a time.
