Ah, the diagnostic mammogram. How can this lovely experience be described? Think of a machine with clear, flat plates. Then think of being positioned just right to be squished, nice and snug, between those plates, cranking and leaning and hugging and lots of pressure, and then being told not to breathe.
I was anxious about this one. My first experience had been a nightmare – not the test itself but what had come later. It was Halloween 2019. After finding a lump in my left breast and checked by my OB, I was referred to Breast Health Services for an ultrasound only, being that I was almost 16 weeks pregnant at the time. So a week later, I had had that ultrasound and then was told a mammogram would need to be ordered after all, so had to wait for my doctor to clear it. What had started as a one-hour appointment eventually stretched to 4, as I proceeded with my first mammogram (ever) and then brought in subsequent times for more and more pictures. The techs eventually fed me when they realized I hadn't had lunch since I naively thought I'd make it back to the office that afternoon. My nerves were through the roof as I waited and waited, still in my gown, for the results to be read. I knew something was amiss as the appointment stretched endlessly, even before I was brought back into the room to finally hear it with my own ears.
Afterwards, I had walked to the car in a daze. I called my husband and broke down crying. He told me to stay put so that he could pick me up, but realizing the late time, I had told him that I felt okay to drive home. I texted my friend who had just been through this the year before, collected myself and took a breath, called the office, and then drove to my daughter's school parade. Then I went trick-or-treating with her and pushed the nightmare aside for one night.
So yes, after the year I've had, I was anxious about this one. It was the first mammogram after surgery and treatment, my first as a survivor.
This time, I was told to plan for up to 2 hours. I was ready for the wait. It wasn't painless, but it was quick, and I was grateful the results were read and given then and there. When my name was called and, "It's good news!" followed, only then did my shoulders relax. Thank. God.
As I walked to the car, it was frigid and windy, but the sun was shining. I took a moment to collect myself. I texted my husband and that same friend, and we shared a celebratory meme together, much like how we did after she had gone for hers a couple of months ago.
To all the other pink warriors out there – I feel you. I'm with you. I am you.
