Yes, it is breast cancer awareness month and time for my annual torture and flattening session.
I remember my first mammogram when the machines first came out, when men techs did the deed. Ugh. A complete stranger touching my breast. But, thatās not why I remember, I remember because a lump was found. Barely captured, right in the exact of my breast, pressed up against the chest bone. A lump.
Luckily we found it. Itās cancer. Hmm.
I was given my choices. I chose to have the lump out, be woken up while on the table, told the bio results, and make my decision then. Btw, they donāt do it this way anymore. I was young. Too young to deal with this. I was lucky. The surgeon knew what he was doing, the scaring is minimal, and I didnāt have cancer.
Few years later, another mammogram, another suspicious lump, but it doesnāt look like cancer. Now there are woman centers, woman techs, but male radiologists. Still, letās have it out. They used the same incision site. A week wait for the results of the bio, no cancer.
Few years later, two bluish lumps in an inconvenient obvious place, other breast. Not cancer, but, lets have them out. Bio results no cancer. Then mother is diagnosed with breast cancer, has the lump and surrounding issue out. No need for other treatment, no recurrence.
On every single mammogram I had, I had a large lump show up. See this Iump, not cancer. Every single mammogram, not cancer. But now, mother, has had cancer. Puts me in a different category. I ask. OMGosh, jinx. I ask how do you know that lump is not cancer? Cause of the way it looks, cause it has not changed, cause it has not spread. Itās just a lump. Alrighty. I have the mammogram. They call me in, they show me the films.
See the large lump, yup. See the line to the smaller lump, yes. See this line to the next smaller lump. Yes. See the surgeon-up. Now, they grade cancer. By looking at the lumps, they grade me at cancer zero. It will be cancer, but itās not cancer yet. You can wait a year, maybe longer until it is actually cancer, then have it out.
Oh, yeah, sure, letās wait the year or longer, till my zero cancer turns into full blown cancer so I can experience the joys of radiation and chemo therapy. Not. Week later surgery. Bio back, no cancer yet, but pre cancerous. Whatever that means, as they pat themselves on the back.
Three years later I have a dimple. Dimples are a sign of the most aggressive breast cancer there is. I am a bit freaked out. What the heck is this? Get the mammogram, hmm. Get the ultrasound, hmm. Saw the radiologist. Letās have a look. By all means letās look. Did I get twenty dollars tucked into my pants? Nope. But we all āhad a lookā.
And we/they have no ideal. None. Zero. Ziltch. What that dimple is. But, we/they are concerned. We/they will check it next year. I didnāt go. The dimple is now looks like a cave, kind of-deep. I try not to look at it. It disturbs me.
Who wants a cave? Not me. My mammogram is next week. Have not decided yet if I will go.
I remember my first mammogram when the machines first came out, when men techs did the deed. Ugh. A complete stranger touching my breast. But, thatās not why I remember, I remember because a lump was found. Barely captured, right in the exact of my breast, pressed up against the chest bone. A lump.
Luckily we found it. Itās cancer. Hmm.
I was given my choices. I chose to have the lump out, be woken up while on the table, told the bio results, and make my decision then. Btw, they donāt do it this way anymore. I was young. Too young to deal with this. I was lucky. The surgeon knew what he was doing, the scaring is minimal, and I didnāt have cancer.
Few years later, another mammogram, another suspicious lump, but it doesnāt look like cancer. Now there are woman centers, woman techs, but male radiologists. Still, letās have it out. They used the same incision site. A week wait for the results of the bio, no cancer.
Few years later, two bluish lumps in an inconvenient obvious place, other breast. Not cancer, but, lets have them out. Bio results no cancer. Then mother is diagnosed with breast cancer, has the lump and surrounding issue out. No need for other treatment, no recurrence.
On every single mammogram I had, I had a large lump show up. See this Iump, not cancer. Every single mammogram, not cancer. But now, mother, has had cancer. Puts me in a different category. I ask. OMGosh, jinx. I ask how do you know that lump is not cancer? Cause of the way it looks, cause it has not changed, cause it has not spread. Itās just a lump. Alrighty. I have the mammogram. They call me in, they show me the films.
See the large lump, yup. See the line to the smaller lump, yes. See this line to the next smaller lump. Yes. See the surgeon-up. Now, they grade cancer. By looking at the lumps, they grade me at cancer zero. It will be cancer, but itās not cancer yet. You can wait a year, maybe longer until it is actually cancer, then have it out.
Oh, yeah, sure, letās wait the year or longer, till my zero cancer turns into full blown cancer so I can experience the joys of radiation and chemo therapy. Not. Week later surgery. Bio back, no cancer yet, but pre cancerous. Whatever that means, as they pat themselves on the back.
Three years later I have a dimple. Dimples are a sign of the most aggressive breast cancer there is. I am a bit freaked out. What the heck is this? Get the mammogram, hmm. Get the ultrasound, hmm. Saw the radiologist. Letās have a look. By all means letās look. Did I get twenty dollars tucked into my pants? Nope. But we all āhad a lookā.
And we/they have no ideal. None. Zero. Ziltch. What that dimple is. But, we/they are concerned. We/they will check it next year. I didnāt go. The dimple is now looks like a cave, kind of-deep. I try not to look at it. It disturbs me.
Who wants a cave? Not me. My mammogram is next week. Have not decided yet if I will go.
