EVERY other year, like many middle-aged women, I dutifully go to the clinic for a mammogram. But the X-ray examination of the breasts, for the early detection of cancer, is one of my least favorite forms of preventive medicine. Mammograms do
save lives; however...First comes the anxiety of disrobing, putting on a flimsy hospital gown, waiting in an overly air-conditioned room and praying like crazy that the X-ray tech isn't a guy.
Then there's the acrobatic-like stances the patient must assume, to get all possible angles for the camera. Furthermore, these photos must be taken while holding one's breath, as the body part in question is pressed, smashed and flattened against cold machinery like a wad of Playdough.
But the real torment of the experience is waiting for the results. It can be the longest five minutes of your life, especially if medical personnel aren't attuned to the trauma of the moment.
That happened to me once. After the last X-ray was snapped, the technician told me to wait while she checked the film. I sat there for what seemed like ages. What was taking her so long?
Then a nurse opened the door, peeked in and said, "Go ahead and get dressed, but the doctor wants to talk to you." Then she disappeared.
My legs felt like lead as I shuffled back to the dressing room. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. This was it: breast cancer.
I sat in the waiting area, wondering how I was going to break the news to family and friends. Then the nurse reappeared. "Oh, the doctor saw your X-rays and said everything looks fine. You can go now," she said nonchalantly.
What! Fine? Hold on a minute, lady!
Then I realized what the nurse had been trying to communicate to me earlier. It wasn't that the physician had WANTED to talk to me because something was abnormal with my mammogram, but that the doctor MIGHT want to meet with me after examining the X-rays. A whopping big difference.
How could that nurse have been so cavalier, I fumed? Then last week came a newspaper article that showed things could have been worse -- short of actually having the Big C, that is.
According to an Associated Press report, a woman who receives mammograms every year for a decade runs a 50-50 chance of a breast cancer false alarm. A woman who has annual mammograms after age 40 also has a 19 percent chance of undergoing an unnecessary biopsy, said the study by a Boston health maintenance organization.
OH, great. Just one more thing to remember about a woman's health regimen. Wasn't there that Canadian study in 1997 that concluded a mammogram done during the second half of the menstrual cycle was twice as likely to miss cancer as one taken during the first half?
How about the health piece in this month's Ms. magazine that says in 20 percent of cases in which cervical abnormalities existed in Pap smears the tests wrongly produced false negative results?
And now, conversely, we learn that many women will be routinely told that they have breast cancer, when they really don't.
If there's any moral, maybe it's this: Keep getting those check-ups and be wary of either prognosis, positive or not. And if any medical personnel lack sensitivity, gently remind them of it, so the next woman -- in the flimsy hospital gown, in the overly air-conditioned X-ray room -- isn't traumatized, too.
Diane Yukihiro Chang's column runs Monday and Friday.
She can be reached by phone at 525-8607, via e-mail at
DianeChang@aol.com, or by fax at 523-7863.