Four Scary Words:: An Under-40 Mammogram Experience

Life gets busy. So busy I frequently am having to make choices on commitments and routines. I can’t remember what was on the calendar during the month of September, but it was important enough to cancel my annual appointment with my OB/GYN. I love my doctor. She’s delivered both my babies, but I couldn’t help but grimace when I made the call to reschedule as her next available appointment wasn’t until November. 

Fine. Not a big deal. Appointment rescheduled…life goes on. 

Two months later, I found myself sitting in a gown (opening in the front) sitting on an exam table anxiously browsing my phone. These appointments are normally quick and “almost” painless, but the waiting is always the worst part. After about 10 minutes the doctor came in and began small talk. The usual, How are the boys? Are we thinking about any more? all while she warms up her hands and begins to feel. Within seconds the small talk fades and she becomes more focused. After a few moments, the silence is broken by four simple words. 

I feel a lump. 

The rest of the appointment was a blur. I did my best to keep a straight face and acknowledge what she was saying, but my body was numb. She wrote an order for me to make an appointment with the Women’s Diagnostic Center and once again tried to reassure me that it’d be okay and it’s always best to have each abnormality examined. 

I barely closed the door to her office before I was calling to make my first mammogram appointment at 32. Since I had been asked by my doctor to make the appointment, they were able to schedule me for the same week, but it would be a three day wait. Once I’d hung up, there was nothing left to do but call my husband. I really couldn’t remember much of the appointment I’d just had, so I tried to provide the details I could. She’d found a lump, but it didn’t “feel cancerous”… I’d already scheduled my appointment… We’ll just have to wait.

The next three days were torture. I went about doing all the usual things to keep myself busy but scary thoughts kept creeping into my day. By the time the appointment rolled around, all the worst case scenarios had been played out in my head. Walking into the Women’s Center was a very surreal experience. My body was cold, my hands were clammy, and it took every ounce of my brain to focus on the words the receptionists were saying. My whole appointment went a little something like this:

Before the Mammogram

As I reflect back, I’m still so grateful at how kind and courteous everyone I came into contact was. Whether it was making light, casual conversation or walking through instructions detail-by-detail, it was obvious these women were trained to do their job well — even when the occasional comment about my age slipped in. 

From the waiting room all the way through my mammogram screening, I often had to remind myself I was still in a hospital setting. The waiting room was decorated like an English parlor with fashion and lifestyle magazines spread about, coffee and tea at the ready, and fresh flowers were on every table. 

Every step of the way, each person provided an exact itinerary of what would happen next. From the beginning, I was told every step I’d be taken through their facility and what would happen during each screening. I was also told in advance that a ultrasound wasn’t routine, but a doctor would evaluate my mammogram and determine if an ultrasound was needed prior to leaving the mammogram room. Either way, I’d know the results before I left that day. 

After about 5 minutes, my name was called and I was escorted back and my appointment began.

I was again escorted to a changing room that was just as cared for as the waiting room. There were elegant individual changing rooms with linen curtains for privacy. Each women was given a cover-up to wear, but these definitely weren’t the paper robes typically provided by the hospital. After placing my belongings in a personal locker I was brought back to the mammogram room by the technician. 

The Screening

The technician gave me a friendly, but brief explanation of what would happen. She explained that I’d feel some pressure, but it shouldn’t be painful (like the rumors I’d heard). She asked me how comfortable I was with her touching my breasts, and I laughed. After having two babies in a hospital and several over-eager nurses physically helping me breastfeed, I was completely fine with whatever she needed to do. I showed her where the doctor felt my lump and she made a mark with a Sharpie to ensure she took photos of the right spot. 

She took about 4-5 images from various directions of each breast. Yes. My breasts were smooshed, but I would compare it to your child sitting on your chest or expressing milk while nursing. It was far from painful and each picture lasted about 3-5 seconds per position — no time to really be uncomfortable. And of course I also tried to read the tech’s face the entire time, but knew that would be pointless– these ladies are trained in the art of the poker face. 

She left me for a few moments and took my results to a doctor in another room. When she came back she informed me that a doctor would like for me to go ahead and have an ultrasound for more detailed results. 

More Waiting

After my mammogram, they look me to another transitional waiting room to wait for an ultrasound technician to become available. It was 100% private and had a couch and television…more magazines to help pass the time. 

With each passing moment I became more and more calm. Whatever the results would be, my husband and I would handle. I went into prayers and a few moments later, they were ready. 

Time for the Results

Walking into the sonogram, memories rushed back. Similar to my visits during pregnancy, the ultrasound room was a dark room with a table hospital bed and large television screen on the wall. The hopped up onto the table, only this time instead of rolling down my maternity pants and applying cold jelly to my belly, she applied the warmed jelly to my chest. And instead of watching for a face on the screen I was trying to translate a bunch of static into what could or could not be cancer. After awhile, I just gave up. And I definitely wasn’t getting anything out of Poker Face…

After 15 minutes, my tech left with the photos to take to the doctor. As I waited, prayers filled my mind. I kept it together as long as I could and right as tears were about to roll down my face, the doctor walked in and immediately said the four words I’d been wanting to hear. . .

I have good news! 

Like many women, I “suffer” from dense breast tissue which will make mammograms sometimes difficult to see. In addition, a fluctuation in hormones can also create lumps– spongy, movable and pea-sized. None of which are a sign of cancer, but just important to be aware of as I get older. It’s apparently very common in women with larger chests, but unless you’ve experienced a scare like mine, you probably wouldn’t know it. 

With positive results, the receptionist said with a smile, “We’ll see you when you’re 40” and I walked out of my appointment. When I got to the car, I called my husband. Before I even said two words I completely broke down. A life that could have been had been flashed before my eyes and all the stress, anxiety, and emotions erupted to the surface. 

While it was an experience I wish I’d never encountered, I realize it was an experience many women haven’t been through yet – and perhaps you are facing a similar situation.  If you are, I hope that you’re forty years old and reading this to see what your first mammogram experience will be like.  But if you’re like me and facing this appointment a little younger than expected, I hope this glimpse of what’s to come gives you a little peace. I’ll be sending prayers and well wishes that your appointment goes smoothly, and with the results you’re hoping to hear!