When I was a teen age girl, my wonderful Aunt Olga was diagnosed with breast cancer. That was back in the day of radical mastectomies. To save her life, they butchered her. When I was eighteen she showed me part of her scar, only part, and I hurt for her.
Cancer. IT is a word that all women fear. It makes me cry just thinking of the word... just the word! let alone the victims.
I'm no 66 and was getting my mammogram. The first report was fine, but that's when everything went wanky.
They hadn't gotten the results of the one I had done in 2017, and when it arrived and they compared them.... they were not the same. The call came and I was told that I needed a second set of shots of my left breast... and everything would be fine. But the dummy on the phone didn't give me the right location... she made an appointment for me at the hospital. She didn't tell me that what I was going in for wasn't a regular set of shots... I was going back for a diagnostic and that I could be there from 2 to 4 hours.
I got to where I thought I was supposed to be, and was given the news that no, I was supposed to be at the hospital. My day was already shot. I had to have my son come and get me, and take me home. And a new appointment had been set up.
Three days later I called my Doctor, this had all festered on my mind... bad info, bad location.... more exrays? gees!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My doctor talked me down off the ceiling, and got me to agree to having the procedure done. I'm glad she did.
The tech was fantastic, as were the nurses, and while no mammogram is fun, I was put to ease. The Tech even showed me what she was doing and what they were looking for.
I don't have cancer.... let me repeat... I DON'T HAVE CANCER!!!! What I have is calcified breast cells that we will be watching for the next two years. That means a mamo every six months, but it also means... NO CANCER.
Have you had your mamo lately?