Pinktober

Well, today is the first of October once again and the pink ribbons are starting to pop up everywhere. Last year, I hated seeing them. They were a constant reminder that my life had become intertwined with breast cancer. I didn't like it one little bit and I said so. This year, I'm feeling a little different.

One year can make a lot of difference in the life of a breast cancer survivor. 365 days can bring many changes. It can also bring death. I am grateful the past year has been good to me. I'm still here. Many of my friends are not. Today, I focus on how I feel about breast cancer awareness month.

Conflicted would be the word that describes my feelings best. While I'm a proponent of early detection, I can understand the trepidation that comes with a first mammogram. Years ago, I remember my mother and my sister telling me I needed to go have one done. I was 42 at the time. I should have had my first mammogram at the age of 40. That was the recommendation most doctors issued back then, but I was rebel. I didn't feel like I needed to have a mammogram done. I didn't want to have one done. I was very modest. I was not willing to bare my breasts in front of anyone other than my husband or my physician. So I always came up with an excuse not to go. I was too busy. I had to work. I always found an excuse.

A few years passed and now, at the age of 45, things were different. I'd lost a couple of friends to breast cancer. As I thought about mammograms, I realized I was being silly. Why wouldn't I want to have a test done that could save my life? Surely those technicians were trained not to look at breasts as anything other than body parts guaranteeing their monthly income. So I called and made an appointment.

The day before my appointment, I wanted to cancel it. I almost did, in fact. I tried to call on my lunch break but was unable to get through. The line was constantly busy. Every chance I got, I tried to call the imaging center and cancel, but with no luck. I was stuck. I was going to have to go have my first mammogram.

The morning of my appointment, I got a shower. I was told, in the pre-test instructions, not to put on any deodorant. I wondered why. I figured it might have something to do with their equipment. Maybe they didn't want deodorant smeared all over it from each woman that came for testing that day. I'm sure it would have been extremely aggravating to have to clean the heavily scented cream off of the machinery in between each patient. I wouldn't have wanted to do it.

When I arrived at the imaging center, I was amazed at how many women were there early in the morning. I guess lots of us were wanting to get in and get the test over with before heading off to work. I waited about half an hour until my name was called. I was nervous. I didn't know what to expect.

The technician was a gruff looking sort, even the way she said my name scared me. She barked out orders to me telling me to put my clothing into a locker. She told me to take the key, attached to a stretch bracelet, around my wrist. She sounded like she was in a hurry and that she wanted me to be quick about undressing, so I complied. I was told to sit in a little waiting room after I'd donned my gown and I obeyed.

My turn came too soon. I wasn't ready. I needed time to mentally prepare myself. I'd heard, from friends, that mammograms hurt. I didn't want any pain, especially this early in the morning. The technician led me to a weird looking machine. She told me to slip my right arm out of the gown. I was really embarrassed. This meant she was going to see my breast. There was no way to hide it. I know I must have turned a bright shade of red as I did as instructed. I felt her cold hand on my back moving me toward the machine. She told me to put my breast in the part of the machine that would scan me. I didn't know how to do it since it was my first time. I tried to do what I thought she wanted done, but I must have messed up. She came over and grabbed my breast as she re-positioned it. I was mortified to have her touch me like that. Then she lowered down some clear plastic plates over my breast and adjusted them tighter and tighter. My boob looked like a pancake and it was very uncomfortable...no, it really hurt! She turned to walk away and as she did, she barked out, "stand still, do not move."

I stood there with my breast sandwiched in between the two clear plastic plates. I held on tightly to the little handle that helped me stay positioned right where the technician wanted me. I heard her remind me to be still again. Then I heard some noises as she ran the test. After several minutes, she came over and repeated the whole scenario on my left breast. When she was done, I was instructed to put my gown on and return to the locker area. As I got dressed, I began to cry. What a horrible experience! No wonder women didn't want to schedule mammograms. I wondered if all the technicians were as brusk as the one I'd encountered. I hoped not.

About a week later, the doctor called and said my baseline mammogram was all clear. He said I needed to come back in a year and have the test repeated. I told him I would, but I didn't. I didn't want to go through that humiliation and pain again.

I waited several years before going back for another mammogram. The next time I went, the technician was very friendly and kind. She made jokes during the entire time I was being tested. She made it a joy instead of a nightmare. I was so thankful for her and made sure to tell her about my first experience. She apologized and said no one should ever have to go through that. Once again, the doctor called and gave me a clear report and once again, he asked me to return a year later for another test. I assured him I would and this time I meant it.

Every October, women are reminded, with the pink ribbon campaign, to get their breasts checked. I'm sure a lot of people have become desensitized to the "pinknado." Many companies capitalize on breast cancer awareness month by putting pink ribbons on their merchandise. They say they'll donate X amount of dollars to breast cancer research, but I wonder if they really do.

This year, instead of wanting to retch when I see pink ribbons, I am thankful. Anything that can help bring awareness to the need for breast examinations is fine by me, especially since I've lost both of my breasts to cancer.

I had fun with a little nurse's aide on my last pre-op visit to the hospital. As she was asking me a zillion questions and writing furiously, she asked if I'd had my mammogram this year. I looked at her and said, "Seriously...are you joking?" She looked up from her clipboard and said, "No, why?" I motioned toward my chest and said, "how can I get a mammogram when I have no breasts?" She turned a bright shade of red and apologized profusely..."payback's a bitch," as they say. I couldn't help but laugh inside. I bet she won't ever ask that question again without first looking at her patient's chest.

"Pinktober" will soon be over and the sea of pink ribbons will disappear until the following year. Most people won't give breast cancer a second thought except those who have felt its grip personally through a family member or friend.

If you, or someone you know, needs a mammogram, please schedule one today. Yes, it's scary if you've never had one. Yes, it's humiliating to bare your breast in public...but if those few moments of shame can help save your life, aren't they worth it? Early detection can make a huge difference in the kind of care and treatment you receive if cancer is found. Don't be silly like I was in skipping a few years in between tests. If I'd been diligent to have those yearly mammograms, they might have found my cancer earlier and I might not have lost two valuable parts of my body.

Take it from someone who truly understands both sides of the picture. Every time you see a pink ribbon, ask yourself when you had your last mammogram. Those little ribbons are great reminders not to take our health for granted. Don't be the "one in eight" that will diagnosed with breast cancer this year.

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