The Mammogram Experience is one without which I would rather live. After all my mother and grandmother were past eighty when they left this world and neither of them had ever had a mammogram or pap smear, and neither died from cancer.
Based on this thinking, I never do either of these two routine checks on a regular basis. My friends who have them done annually, are usually horrified, so too my doctors whom as you can well guess I see only for things like the common cold, the common stress, or for what in local parlance is called "my pressure."
Each time, the doc will ask "when last you had a pap smear or mammogram?" And I usually get away with the quick reply "not for a while but I will have it done."
So last week's mammogram experience which led to my sipping herb tea, which I dislike intensely, at 2 a.m. one morning to calm my taut nerves, was only the second in my longish life.
The first one three years ago, saw me leave my house at the early hour of 7 a.m. in the Maraval bumper-to-bumper traffic, minus deodorant, you know that which most women put under their armpits straight out of the bath. What's the fuss about no deodorant some people may be already asking. No deodorant is like not brushing your teeth in my books. But this was the instruction from that Radiology Center, where one's breasts were smashed to a pulp from different angles in a machine located in the tiniest of cubicles.
With no deodorant, and fear of the unknown that first time, there was a feeling I would suffocate before they found out the results of the mammogram.
Needless to say, I dodged for the next three years until a doctor pinned me down last week.
This time I was allowed to wear my deodorant, the room was bigger and the machine more modern so the smashing sensation was lessened, also I knew what to expect.
The problem this time was major uncertainty. First off the family physician wondered if there was a slight thickening, something that usually happens to women in their twenties which I am no longer anywhere near to.
Then when I went to collect the results of the mammogram, there was just a cryptic message from the doctor who had read the results that he wished to do a further ultra sound. No explanations, that was it, and the appointment could not be for another two days.
And that is how I came to be drinking herb tea at 2 a.m. on the day of the ultra sound.
Each night on the television, we are treated to numerous ads about one in eight women will get breast cancer, needless to say we boldly believe ourselves to be in the remaining seven; and to words of wisdom from those who are fighting breast cancer, usually very normal women like you and I. Is all of this supposed to stop us worrying? (After all if caught in the early stages our chances of recovery are excellent.) I think not especially when you are sitting through a two- day period waiting on a ultra sound and you do not know if there is reason to be worried.
My point is that doctors have to become more sensitive. Why didn't the doctor who read the mammogram, and could have later on told me that he really didn't see anything but just wanted to double check with the ultra sound because the referring doctor had mentioned "a thickening", leave this explanation with the receptionist, nurse, even the janitor would have been acceptable at that stage. Such a message would have helped tremendously during the two-day layover.
On the other hand, if a doctor does see something suspicious on the mammogram, I trust that the patient would not be kept waiting two whole days, and/or he would personally have explained why the ultra sound was being done immediately or in two days.
In my nerve-wracked mind, for the two interminably long days, I reached the point where I was already making several decisions, such as, whether to have a lumpectomy or mastectomy, what nursing home, how much it was going to cost, radiation or chemotherapy, could I afford reconstruction, prognosis, pain, loss of hair, wigs, etc., etc.
Remember women are to-day well educated about the many expectations if diagnosed with this still dreaded disease. It remains a life threatening disease and no matter how many women flash across your television screen with bright smiles saying "I am a survivor, I have survived for X years" it is not an easy situation to deal with. Hence the presiding doctors should try their best to "ease the tension" as Shadow would say.