This is the Before

Irregular or inconclusive mammogram results can send us spiraling. I know I’m not alone.

Photo by Angiola Harry on Unsplash

“Hello?” I answered the unfamiliar number on my phone.

A woman introduced herself and said she was from my doctor’s office.

“Have you viewed your mammogram results in MyChart?” she asked.

“I have not,” I said. 

Truth is, I had looked, but it was set up for a medical group that my new doctor didn’t belong to. I tried to call tech support, but after 11 minutes of the same 20-second music loop, I threw in the towel. This must be the convenience we were promised when they made us set up an account.

I told her as much and she gave me a different number to call.

“Well, have YOU seen my results?” I asked. “Are they normal?”

“That’s what I’m calling for. We’d like you to have a follow up.”

This is how it starts.

This is how it started for my grandmother.

And my aunt. 

And my two college friends. 

And my neighbor. 

This is the “before”. 

This is the last moment of not being worried, the last moment before catastrophizing all the What Ifs. 

It could be nothing. I’ve had inconclusive mammograms before. Or, it could be another in a long line of stories I definitely wish no one had to tell.

My father died of cancer on the heels of my grandmother dying of cancer. My other grandmother fought it off twice because she was one tough old bitty. Because of this, I’ve dived deeper into cancer research, history, mainstream and unconventional treatment options than most people I know. One of my favorite books is The Emperor of All Maladies which is basically a fascinating history of cancer in all its forms. Yeah, real light reading. I know I’m a geek. 

Everything I’ve read suggests cancer is not something to fear. Your body can (and does) beat it if your immune system is firing on all pistons.

Problem is: do we know if our immune systems are up to snuff?

I’m 51 and perimenopause is kicking my ass like Jackie Chan on coke. My body’s landscape has become foreign to me. Between the hot flashes, hair loss, weight gain and forgetfulness, I often feel like a dollar store knockoff of the me I used to be. So, do I really feel confident about what’s going on under the hood?

Despite our best efforts, most of us Monday-morning-quarterback our lives. I should’ve done this. I could’ve done that. We can’t really stop ourselves from that look-back.

• Should I have completely given up sugar forever when my cancer research clearly explained how it feeds cancer? Yeah, probably.

• Should I have bought and eaten only pastured, grass-fed- and finished meat despite the price tag? I should have.

• Should I have guarded my sleep like a knight on the high ground? Without a doubt.

I didn’t do these things. At least not all the time. I did a little, but I could’ve done more. If I’m being honest, health vigilance takes a LOT of energy. And when you’re busy working, raising kids and chauffeuring them to sports all over the state (and sometimes others), Chipotle can be a godsend.

But then, you get an “inconclusive” on a routine mammogram and you start to second-guess your entire lifestyle and self-flagellate like you invented the whip.

This situation also underscores my contempt for women’s healthcare. Mammogram providers are now required to tell a woman if she has “dense” breasts. Since dense breasts are harder to read with a standard mammogram than fatty breasts, women can often get a false “positive” or an inconclusive result. <raises hand> This has happened to me in the past, and thankfully the second screening with the addition of an ultrasound showed that all was well.

Why then do I continue to have to radiate my breasts when we have already established that the standard mammogram doesn’t work well for me? Why can’t we just skip to the ultrasound if that’s a better standard of care for MY particular body?

You already know the answer: The insurance companies. The bureaucracy. The bean counters interloping in the relationship between doctor and patient. It’s ridiculous. And enraging.

Many years ago, I did some copywriting work for a medical device company that was trying to bring diagnostic ultrasound technology to the open market for women’s breast cancer screenings. Their machine could detect “hot spots” in a breast well before it ever became a mass or worse, cancer. Here we are 15 years on and I don’t have access to this. Do you?

At risk of sounding like a yahoo, I need to ask why not? Is someone or something intentionally keeping that from going mainstream? We all know these medical lobbyists are powerful.

Can’t we at least agree that women’s bodies are phenomenally complex, and our care should be (and can be) more tailored to our own biology? Shouldn’t this be a priority? Assembly-line healthcare isn’t cutting it.

Because life is ironic, I spent yesterday at my daughter’s field hockey game, where the kids were wearing hot pink socks in solidarity for “the cure”. You know the color––it’s the Susan G. Komen Foundation’s trademark. That was just the visual cue I needed while this is all knocking around in my brain! Not.

October is “breast cancer awareness” month, a moniker I sort of hate because who the F isn’t yet “aware” of breast cancer? I want it to be “breast cancer eradication” month. Or, how about “put real food in our food” month or “stop poisoning us with synthetic chemicals” month. 

Not as catchy, I know.

I’m writing this article one hour from my next mammogram and ultrasound. 

I’m sitting snugly in what’s left of my “before” and watching the sand drain from the hourglass. I’m thinking of all the women––thousands and thousands and thousands of women––who’ve been in my exact spot…waiting for that next test and the all-clear. 

Sisterhood has never been so scary.

To the survivors out there, the fight in you is amazing. 

To the ones who’ve exited this plane, you’re missed and will never be forgotten. 

To my grandmother, who’s hopefully looking down from above, stay with me today.

Here goes nothing.