My Scary First Mammogram Experience

ALL WRITTEN AND ARTWORK ARE THE INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY OF PSG LOPES/THE MOONLIT GODDESS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, 2023.

Trigger Warning: The following contains discussions regarding trauma and mental illness struggles. Reader discretion is advised.

I was long overdue for my first mammogram. Two things prevented me from going right when I turned 40. Turning 40 right at the start of the pandemic kind of put a hold on maintaining my health in general. The main reason; however, was due to past traumas I've experienced. Being someone with CPTSD, depression, and anxiety, it takes an awful lot to convince myself to go to the doctor.

I'm very much like Jay Novello's character on I Love Lucy when he portrayed that timid man who needed a quiet place to stay and decided to sublet the Ricardo's apartment when they were planning to go away for a few months while Ricky's band played out of state. The whole plan turned to shit and they ended up not needing to sublet the apartment. When their rational efforts to try and get their tenant to leave didn't work, they resorted to extraordinary measures essentially terrifying the poor, broken man until he eventually left of his own accord.

That's exactly the level of nervousness I felt making the appointment, arriving at the appointment, waiting almost an hour to go in, disrobing and exposing myself, and trusting someone enough to touch my body (which is one of the most difficult things for me given my traumas). I felt so out of control and riddled with anxiety as it was.

The individual performing my mammogram was friendly enough but I felt uneasy around her. She had gotten the first scan done of my right breast and I thought to myself, "Okay, maybe this isn't so bad." I informed the person that I was anxious and she assured me that I was doing fine. She said, "I have a secret to tell you after you're done with your scan." I know they are not supposed to say anything to you about your scans whatsoever because they are not the doctor but I was wondering in my head if the secret she was planning to tell me was that I was alright.

She then proceeded to scan my left breast and had to repeat the imaging once more claiming she had to make sure the skin appeared smooth in the image and to make sure there were no folds. She was finally done with the scan and I was able to take a huge breath of relief but then she started acting peculiar, at least in my own perception.

She now had no secret to tell me and started grilling me asking me all these questions after the scan of my left breast. After the test was done she was asking me if I had gotten my Covid vaccine and if so, when was the last time I received the latest dose and which arm I received it, etc. She also said to not be surprised to get a letter in the mail asking me to repeat the scan and claimed it was routine because I had never gotten a mammogram done before and had no previous baselines to compare my results with. She further explained that that was normal procedure and not to worry. But now I am worried.

From the look on her face and from her repeated line of questioning and her telling me that I may get a letter in the mail to repeat the scan, what else does one do but jump to conclusions? She made me believe there was something wrong with my left breast. How was I honestly expected to just go home and sit around and wait a whole week to receive my letter to inform me of my impending doom? I was simply crestfallen. I went home and I told my mom and sister and they told me that first of all, the woman had no right to scare me and shouldn't have said anything. Second of all, my sister did preliminary research, we are not doctors mind you, but sometimes Google can ease your mind enough to just let things go until you do hear from your doctor. She read how sometimes the Covid vaccine can muck up the results of a scan.

So, I felt somewhat comforted but being someone with immense anxiety, my mind was already in another realm. In my head, I was already writing my goodbye letter to my family. Being poor, there's no need for a will unless you want me to bequeath my dust. I even told my sister my final wishes upon my death. She looked at me like I was nuts and said incredulously, "Why are you telling me this? You're going to be fine!" How was I supposed to know that? That woman scared me shitless!

I spent the whole week keeping myself incredibly busy. I spent hours working on my several projects each day just trying to do everything and anything to prevent my mind to start wandering deep, dark places. I started thinking about what would happen to my parents if I died, and who would take proper care of them. I started really looking around and wondering what my immediate world would look like without me there.

To an individual without anxiety, reading this is probably very foreign. Reading this I can see how one might think I was absolutely out of my gourd. But to someone like myself, who I learned is neurodivergent, I don't think like the average person. My mind takes me to incredible places when I am scared and sometimes can not rationally talk myself down that proverbial ledge.

Yesterday came and the mail arrived. The letter was sitting on the dining room table. I made my way there to have some lunch and sat down. My brother hands me the letter. He tells me simply, "It's here." My legs nearly give way. Blood is rushing through my ears and everything around me is silent. This is it. This is the moment. The letter may not say definitively that something is wrong but like the woman said maybe I will have to come in to repeat the scan to make a baseline to see if this is my version of normal.

Fighting tears, I finally gather the courage to open the letter. The envelope was flat. It consisted of a single page. I was kind of thinking about how college acceptance letters are. If you get in you know that the package is going to be huge and if you're rejected the university reluctantly wastes a stamp on you just to write two words, "You suck," in either Times New Roman, Calibri, Courier New, or whichever fucking font is the standard these days.

Does a thin letter mean cancer? Or does it mean I'm going to be okay?

I take the letter out of the envelope not being able to read it at first. I was so anxious all the letters from each of the words looked blurred and jumbled. I took a deep, staggering breath and tried reading the letter once more.

"We are pleased to tell you that the results of your mammogram came back normal."

I let out a huge breath of relief. I felt dizzy and lightheaded.

My first thoughts were obviously, "Yay!"

My second thoughts were, "Damn that woman for scaring the crap out of me!" I was all set to write a letter to the "Make A Wish" Foundation to have my favorite singer perform for me before I die! (Just joking, of course!) I was telling people where to scatter my ashes when I finally bought the farm. Holy crap. I couldn't believe the huge ordeal I was put through just because I decided to be responsible and take control of my own health.

I wish I had some empowering words for other anxious individuals who need to get their first mammograms. I just dove in, nose first, scared out of my britches, or out of my bra, in my case. There are no magic words, no soothing sage advice. I just wish that woman saved me a whole week of grief and kept her opinions to herself and not instilled sheer and utter terror in me.

I wish you fellow anxious ladies much prosperity and luck. I hope you all get adequate healthcare and try and take as good care of yourselves as you're able to.