At my regular annual check up, I told my OB/GYN that I was still lactating, and it’s been more than a year since I weaned The Boy. This is highly unusual and could be an indicator of the early onset of breast cancer, so I was given a prescription for – and had – my first mammogram this morning.
To be truthful, I wasn’t concerned about my health when I went into the radiology wing at the hospital. Breast cancer doesn’t run in my family; in fact, the only cancer I know of affecting any of my family members was pancreatic cancer that my paternal grandfather ultimately succumbed to.
The process really wasn’t as bad as I had feared. The machinery is cold against naked skin, yes, and despite my small bust size, I was surprised at how the technician was still able to flatten my breast between the metal plates to get a photograph of the tissues.
At the end, the technician said that everything looks normal; I’m not showing any signs of breast cancer. And now that I’ve had my first clear mammogram, I won’t need another for a few more years.