Modern Torture Device: Part One
aka I Went For My First Mammogram
This one is for my ladies. Men, feel free to skip this (or not if you want to be well versed in the woes of women).
Growing older is so much fun and a bit strange. Growing older as an orphan in a dysfunctional family is even stranger. Half of your family isn’t speaking and hasn’t spoken for years so you’re not quite sure if/when they have had health ailments, so you just pretend that they don’t exist and stick with the family history you know when you fill out forms at the doctor’s office. Yay! 🫠
I recently went for my first mammogram and there was so much I didn’t know. I was nervous, scared, and weirded out. Discussing having our chi-chis (what we call breasts in my culture) smooshed in a machine isn’t top of mind for a lot of women.
Just thinking about it gives me anxiety.
I can’t be the only one.
This is for all my fellow women from all walks of life: orphans, women in estranged relationships with their mothers, daughters with mothers that refuse to go to the doctor, and women that would rather read about it than talk about it.
Because one of my first degree relatives had breast cancer at the age of 45, technically I should have been getting mammograms starting at the age of 35. New breast cancer screening guidelines per Yale medicine:
For women with a first-degree relative (meaning a mother and/or sister) who has had cancer, “it is generally recommended to start screening 10 years younger than the first-degree relative was at the time of her diagnosis,” says Dr. Winer. “So, if your mom was 42 when she was diagnosed, you would start in your early 30s.
I’ve missed the last 5 years. (Don’t yell at me!)
Sometimes I can be a coward when it comes to health stuff. I’m working on this.
After turning 40, I’m making it a point to get on and stay on top of my health. I’ve created a longevity plan for myself that includes regular stretching, exercise-lifting/cardio, a healthy diet, mind exercise-memory games, fully replacing coffee with matcha and more. Much of the plan is how I already live my life but I’m entering this new decade with extra mindfulness. Aging is a privilege and I want to move through it with as much ease as possible. A big part of my longevity plan is staying on top of health screenings.
Even if you are nowhere near the age of needing to get a mammogram, it is extremely important to know what to expect and to normalize talking about it. None of us are vampires (sad) and eventually you’ll need to get one too.
Below is part one of what it was like getting my first mammogram.
I’m in Brooklyn at my new GP’s office for my annual checkup. I tell him that I want/need to get a mammogram and he asks if I’ve ever had one before.
I respond through gritted teeth: no.
He says that’s okay but I need to go. I get my blood drawn and they send me on my merry way whilst reminding me to pick up the order for the mammogram at the front desk.
I look at the sheet and see my info, my doctor’s name, address, and telephone number along with some weird numbers I don’t recognize under something labeled CPT.
Because I schedule all of my yearly checkups within the same month, I thought I could just take this sheet to my gynecologist’s appointment a couple of weeks later and they would explain more.
As I’m arriving to my gynecologist’s appointment, I realize I forgot the sheet that has my mammogram order on the kitchen counter. Doh! I tell my gyno’s nurse assistant that I forgot it and she said, that’s okay, we don’t do that here anyway and there should be a number on the sheet instructing me where to go.
I go home and look on the sheet and there is no number to a radiology location. (Remember, I have never done this before and have no idea what I’m doing. Also the way my gyno/GP operated in Los Angeles was very different.)
I place the sheet on the end of the kitchen counter for safe keeping. It sits there for weeks before I call the gyno back. Finally, I get my inner shit together and remember to call their office. They tell me that I can go to any radiology place that is nearby, they recommend a Lenox Hill location (there are many) and make an appointment.
More weeks go by and before I know it, three months have passed.
UGH.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING, JENOVIA?????
(Procrastinating. That’s what I’m doing. I looooove to procrastinate when it’s something unpleasant. )
I give myself a serious talk with a combination of sharp and soft love: YOU NEED TO DO THIS. EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE. THIS IS PART OF BEING AN ADULT AND CARING FOR YOURSELF. I KNOW YOU’RE NERVOUS AND A LITTLE SCARED BUT YOU’RE A BRAVE ASS BIATCHÉ! YES, HAVING YOUR CHI-CHIS SMASHED IN A MACHINE SEEMS LIKE AN ARCHAIC WAY OF CHECKING FOR THE C-WORD. BUT THIS IS WHAT IT IS. YOU GOT THIS. CALL THEM NEOW!
Once again, I get my inner shit together and call one of the Lenox Hill Radiology centers.
They give me options to schedule online or with a live person by phone. I opt to speak with a live person because I may have questions.
After a fairly quick wait time, Aisha answers. She is both calm and seemingly angelic. Her voice pitter-pats softly into my ear holes and I want to hug her through the phone. She asks for my name, telephone number, email, and referring doctor’s name. She verifies that I go to the Brooklyn office and not the one in Manhattan. She verifies that this is just a screening and not because I’m having trouble (lump, discharge from nipple, etc.) with my breasts.
I tell her that I want a woman technician. Aisha tells me, no problem, she will put in the request.
She asks if I want to hear the guidelines for getting a mammogram or do I want to just read the email they will send? I tell her I want to hear them now because it is my first time and I’m nervous.
“We advise that you wear a two piece when you come to the appointment.”
My mind immediately thinks: bikini?
“A two piece?”
“Yes, a separate top so that it’s easier to take off.”
“Ooooh, so not like a jumpsuit or anything?”
“Exactly.”
We both laugh.
I am not to wear any lotions, deodorant, powders, sunscreens, or oils.
“Damn, it’s hot outside. I have to go funky?”
Aisha laughs again.
“Yes, they don’t want anything interfering with the scan.”
She then rolls into a script that has a lot of words and I hear: not covered by insurance, enhanced breast cancer detection, like hundreds of doctors looking at your scans that can detect legions, powered by AI for an extra $40.00.
I’m appalled. Not at Aisha but our endlessly evil insurance companies.
“Woooow. For an extra $40 have an even better chance at saving your life! Now this feels like a Home Shopping Network sales call.”
“I completely understand, we have been trying so hard to get the insurance companies to cover this. We are hoping by next year they will.”
“I know it’s not you guys, it’s our terrible healthcare in this country. Yes, I definitely want—what is it called—EBCD?”
“Yes, I will add it to your appointment and you will be responsible for the one time $40 payment then. We will also be emailing you some forms that you must complete prior to your appointment. Do you have any other questions?”
My chest tightens and my mind starts to race thinking about all the women who can’t afford the extra $40. I think about all the women who don’t have access to the new technology because they don’t live in NYC, LA, etc. I want to cry. I gather myself together and take a deep breath.
“No, you’ve been wonderful. Thank you.”
Aisha says goodbye and I’m tense with anxiety.
I have zero fear of needles. Getting my blood drawn is as easy to me as signing my name. I actually prefer watching the needle go in than looking away but anything to do with CT scans, MRIs and now I can add mammograms to that list, I turn into a bundle of shaky nerves.
We’ve all got our something and if I were to explore deeper, it most likely stems from being forced to grow up much too fast and having to do a lot of unknown, seemingly scary things by myself as an adolescent.
Some of us have dead mothers (🙋🏻♀️), some of us have wonky relationships with them, or maybe we just don’t like talking about that sort of thing with anyone. We don’t always want to reach out in real life and prefer a virtual hand to hold.
Never fear!
I’m here to lighten the load, ease your discomfort, and provide a clear understanding of what to expect when you make your first appointment.
In part two, I document the actual mammogram experience aka the modern torture device that smashed my breasts into oblivion.
Juuuuust kidding!
Kind of.
Stay tuned and PLEASE GO GET YOUR CHI-CHIS CHECKED!!!!!
I’ve got questions, you’ve got answers:
🕸️ Do you have any kind of unease/fear over health/doctor stuff?
🕸️ Have you had a mammogram before?
🕸️ In the words of my bestie Blanchette, “Why aren’t men getting their balls squeezed in a vice?”
🕷️ Thank you for reading JENOVIA’S WEB. Restack on Notes, leave a comment, or hit the heart button if you enjoyed this post. I love hearing from you! 🕸️
Love always,
Jenovia
I’m MAD ABOUT YOU! Richard Burton laughing MAD! I’m so so proud of you for going. Yay for us!!! Having someone you’re comfortable with makes all the difference.
Thank you for always being so supportive and being my hand to hold 🥹 it means so much to me. 🫂
That’s it I’m getting my damn chi-chis checked!!! Also can’t wait for part 2! You have a way with making something as scary/mundane as a doctors appointment so gripping 🤯