The following is one of my longer Blatherings; I'm including so much detail mainly in hopes that this post might help other women who are as ignorant as I was about what happens with abnormal mammograms.
Though you probably couldn't tell from my Blatherings this past week, I've been pretty distracted.
It began when I got back the results from a mammogram I had early last week, when both my doctor and Sunnybrook Hospital phoned on Thursday within minutes of each other to say that I needed to go back for more tests. Apparently there was a small abnormality in my mammogram that they wanted to check out more thoroughly.
My doctor reassured me that it was probably nothing, but I was still quietly freaking out inside. As I started to do research online and talking to a few friends, however, I discovered my doctor was right ... chances were good that it was probably nothing.
According to several sources I found (including
this oneand
this one), 90-95% of abnormal mammograms recommended for follow-up will turn out to be "false-positives," which are abnormal mammograms which do NOT result in a breast cancer diagnosis within a year.
Thanks to those of my friends who told me about their own experiences with false-positives. And special thanks to Beckett, who HAS had breast cancer, who gave me info about what to expect either way.
Because even though I knew chances were good that it was probably nothing, it was the non-zero part that scared me on a very deep level. Too many of my friends and family members have been affected by cancer for me to casually dismiss the risk.
Intellectually, I understood the risk was small. Emotionally, I was running around in wild circles, alternating between being reassured and freaking out. The worst part was the WAITING.
A
study published in the Journal of the National Cancer Institute found that women who receive the results of their screening mammograms immediately after their examination have less stress and anxiety compared with women who have to wait several days for their test results.
Well, DUH.
Yesterday morning, I went to Sunnybrook Hospital for my follow-up appointment. I sat in the outer waiting room for a while (I arrived way too early); there was a young guy waiting there as well. I was surprised but then remembered that
men can get breast cancer as well.
When my name was called, I was led to the change room and handed a hospital gown. I was asked to remove any deodorant I was wearing, and to put any non-valuable items in one of the lockers. Then I sat and waited with the other gown-clad women.
I was acutely aware that although we were all strangers, we were all there for similar reasons: our breasts. The word "breast" is an odd one, when you think about it. It certainly isn't pronounced the way it looks. And it has such complicated connotations and associations throughout one's life.
Sometime during adolescence, I resigned myself to the fact that I'd always be on the smaller side. I was embarrassed about it when I was younger. Now, I just don't care. I think it helps that I ended up marrying someone who loves me just the way I am, but I've also grown more confident over the years.
But back to the waiting room.
It seemed so weird to me that we were all sitting in that small room pretending none of the others were there, so I made some comment about how I had put on my hospital gown backwards compared to the others (with the ties in front rather than in the back). One of the women immediately said that she had just been thinking that my way of putting on the hospital gown made more sense; another women laughed and said it probably didn't matter at all.
From time to time, one of the hospital staff would show up at the door and call a name; one of the women would leave. The rest of us continued to wait, commenting on the cooking show that was playing on a small tv up in the corner, or talking about the process.
One of the women had been there several times; she told the rest of us about the different technicians -- most were nice, she said, but one wasn't ("After my mammogram, I had bruises all around my breast! And I don't have much breast left...").
When it was my turn to do the mammogram, I was disappointed to see that I didn't have the same technician as last time -- she had been a friendly and talkative Australian girl. This time, the technician was courteous but very businesslike.
You can see a demonstration of the machine and the mammogram process
in this video. It's not a comfortable process, but I've never experienced pain; some women do, I know. I've been told it's a matter of breast sensitivity, not size. You basically have to lay your breast on a small platform, wait while the technician rearranges it (like a piece of meat on a plate, really) and then lowers another platform on top of it until it's squished flat like a thick pancake, then wait again while she goes over to the control panel and takes the x-ray. They usually do several in different positions.
I asked the technician if I was going to find out any results today, and she said that I might be able to, that I should try asking the radiologist.
Then it was back to the waiting room. Different women were waiting there from before. We chatted a little bit until I mentioned that I was there for a return visit because I had an abnormal mammogram the week before. I guess that was a bad topic because they all got quiet after that.
When one of the women came back to get her clothes after her mammogram, however, she leaned over and murmured, "I hope everything turns out okay for you."
Finally the radiologist came to get me for my ultrasound. I was taken to a room with a bed, asked to lie down and wait. Ah great, more waiting. I lay down and found the mattress and pillow much more comfortable than I expected; I would have likely dozed off in other circumstances (circumstances that didn't involve a test that might change the rest of my life, that is).
After about ten minutes, the radiologist came in. As she was getting stuff ready, I asked her if there was any chance I could find out results that day. She gave a polite smile and said no, that I'd have to wait until I heard from my doctor. Oh well.
The ultrasound was pretty much what I expected - some liquidy goop and then the ultrasound wand. The radiologist kept her eyes on the screen while she did the ultrasound, and I noticed that she focused mainly on one part of my breast; I assumed this was the questionable area that showed up in the mammogram.
I found that by craning my neck (being careful not to move any other part of my body), I could see what was on her screen. I half-expected the radiologist to complain but she didn't, so I kept looking. It was the first time I had ever seen an ultrasound; it just looked like white water to me -- constantly shifting waves.
The radiologist didn't say much during the entire procedure. At one point she handed me a towel and left the room without saying anything. After she was gone for about five minutes, I assumed I was supposed to clean myself up, and that the ultrasound was over. When she came back, however, I discovered that the exam wasn't over after all; she had just been to the other room to check my mammogram.
Well geez, couldn't she have just said so? I suspect that people like this woman had done this test so many times that sometimes they forget that the women they're examining are actually PEOPLE, not just nameless breasts. I don't think this woman made eye contact with me at all except for a brief moment when she called me from the waiting room.
More cold goop and the ultrasound wand. Finally the radiologist said she was finished and said I could clean myself up and put my gown back on. As she was doing something with the machine, I remembered again something my friend Judith had told me: to not be afraid to ask questions, like when the results would be ready.
So I asked, expecting a vague "when your doctor gets them" answer. Instead, I was surprised to see the woman hesitate.
"Don't worry," she said, her tone softening a bit but still not meeting my eyes as she took the now-goopy towel from me. "I didn't find anything." She warned me that it wasn't official, however, until I heard from my doctor. (Side note to those waiting and who weren't able to get an answer from their radiologist: this doesn't necessarily bode ill. My friend Luisa said that she's asked and NOT been given an answer, but still had follow-up results that turned out to be nothing.)
Even unofficial, however, those few words were a HUGE relief.
The hardest part of this past week has been the waiting, the not knowing. The feeling that I was in a sort of limbo-land, unable to get on with my life. I haven't been able to concentrate on work and have had trouble sleeping.
I fervently hope that someday someone comes up with a way of quicker follow-up for abnormal mammograms...there must be other women who go through this kind of stress while they're waiting.
Anyway, I'm hoping to hear from my doctor today or tomorrow. Even though it looks like I'm fine, it would be nice to get the "official" word before I leave for
FilKONtario, and perhaps more info about what the mysterious spot on my original mammogram was.
Thanks SO MUCH to those of you who knew about my situation and provided emotional support while I was going through my yo-yo stress; it was much appreciated.
And now to catch up on all the stuff I haven't been able to concentrate on this past week! Leaving for
FilKONtario tomorrow...
Related Resources:
Study Looks at Reasons for False-Positive Mammograms (thanks to Judith for the link)
Breast Cancer: Understanding Mammogram ResultsMammogram Screening Procedure Info (from Medicinenet.com)
Livejournal comments
Friday, June 6, 2008 at 10:08AM 
