Mammograms and Lies

I wrote the following in October and submitted it to a newspaper for publication. Haven't heard from them. I'd rather share it with you.


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Have you had a mammogram in the last 366 days? If not, schedule one or lie to me.

I had one in April and it saved my life. I was diagnosed with breast cancer, had two surgeries, and am bald due to ongoing chemotherapy. Once that ends I face six to seven weeks of radiation, then five years of drug therapy. I couldn’t be happier.

Happy? Yes, I’m alive.

My mission since diagnosis has been to tell one woman a day to schedule a mammogram, or tell one man to remind a woman he loves to have one. (And yes, breast cancer strikes men too, and they need to be aware of changes on their bodies.)

I am stunned by the numbers of women who can look me in the eye (or talk into my ear or type into my e-mail) and tell me why they don’t have regular mammograms.

• “I can’t be bothered to take the time.” Dying is a bigger waste of time.
• “It’s painful.” Yes, sometimes it is, but it’s less so than biopsies and surgeries.
• “I might get a recall notice and have to go back for another.” If your mechanic asked to see the car again, would you refuse?
• “I’m too busy.” You find time to get your nails done, go out for coffee, hit the gym, sleep late, or wander the mall.
• “I don’t have insurance,” or “I can’t afford one.” There are programs that offer free services to people in need.

And what if you do get a call back or a diagnosis? You fight and you move forward.

I wish my life hadn’t been interrupted with the news from my April mammogram. I wish I didn’t have to see the sadness in the eyes of my husband and daughter as they watch me endure the sometimes miserable aspects of my treatment. I wish I didn’t spend hours on the couch wrapped in blankets to beat back the chills, or days wracked with nausea. I wish I had the energy to give my job a solid eight hours every day, commute another two, and have something left to give when I get home.

All those sound like great reasons to forgo a mammogram. But they’re not. The chills are gone in a matter of hours. The nausea is over in a couple of days. The energy comes back in about a week. I’m learning that the wonderful machine that is my body has plenty of fight in it.

I have a lot of living to do, and my breast cancer diagnosis isn’t going to stop me. I want be around to celebrate my daughter’s accomplishments and commiserate when she’s unhappy, listen to my husband snore, bake apple pies, entertain and be entertained by friends, and eat Ben and Jerry’s coffee Heath Bar ice cream.

I want to be promoted and earn a fat raise, take my new passsport to Switzerland, take out the trash on Tuesday mornings, feed seagulls at the beach, read newspapers, write in my blog, snuggle with maybe-someday grandbabies, buy a new car, and clean the spare room. The list is endless, as it should be.

I’ll keep having mammograms, and if the breast cancer comes back, I’ll find the best way to fight it and keep moving forward.

If you don’t respect yourself enough and love your family and friends enough to do the same, have the decency to lie to me about it.