I had my first mammogram this morning, (a.k.a., the boob squish). It's definitely not a comfortable procedure, but not as bad as I expected. I held it together pretty well until the technician was done, and then I burst into tears. She wasn't surprised and said it's a common reaction. It's an emotional experience for a lot of women.
My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was in her mid-40s. I was about 11 years old. For some reason, my dad and I were with her, waiting in the lobby of the doctor's office, when she got the news. I have a vivid image of her as she strode hard and fast through the doorway from the exam room, looked at my dad and said, "Yep, it's cancer," and just kept walking straight out through the building to the car. She kept moving forward. She made the air move around her.
I saw such strength and energy in her in that moment, when what she was probably feeling was shock, fear and an instinct to flee. It doesn't matter, since what she demonstrated to me, her young daughter -- to keep moving forward -- has influenced my life ever since in a powerful and positive way.
I remember asking my oldest brother, who was 21 and in medical school, if she was going to die. He said, "I don't know" and hugged me while I sobbed. It registered that it was one of the first times I'd been given such honest news, delivered without candy coating. And for that, I thank my brother.
Our mom went through major surgeries and chemotherapy, and eventually she beat the cancer back. She lived another 15 years, long enough to see all five of her kids fall in love and get married and begin to have kids of their own. She was a true survivor.
Because we have a history of breast cancer on both sides of our family, getting a mammogram this morning felt like a step toward acknowledging my own mortality. In my mind, the girls -- and my sister's -- are like ticking time bombs. Very small ones, in my case, but dangerous nonetheless. And I hate that.
5 comments:
So sorry... My family has a similar family history, and my sisters and I started our mamograms at 30. This summer, I had my first biopsy, too. But, all this prep and testing makes me feel like I am doing my part to stay healthy, and even if I do feel fated to get breast cancer at some point, at least I will catch it early.
My God...that first diagnosis happened, what, when you were in junior high? Or a year or two before? And I was a year ahead of you, and Anne a year ahead of me. I had zero idea that you were all dealing with that. I don't have much of a point here, except to realize again how little we really know of people we think we know.
Honestly, did you or your sister ever have a conversation with Kelly Sedinger in high school?
Yes, as a matter of fact we did.
Since you seem to know who Kelly is, you would know that we are all part of the high school band, which was like a family. Dysfunctional, but familial nonetheless.
The band was probably one of the things that helped my sister and I get through a really hard time.
I had a hard time too in high school dealing with my fathers illness: alcholism. Unlike cancer though, his illness illicited sneers and sarcasim.
Band for me though provided NO type of refuge as my own self esteem issues of teenage awkwardness were only exhasberated by pretending that dad was normal (everyone sleeps in the bushes) and that mom really had it all together (its perfectly fine to compulively shop to avoid beint at home) If only I was not such a goofy looking loser with a changing voice and acne then maybe it would have been better.
I guess if I was a hot girl with a hot sister I would have had an easier time of it.
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