My 1st Mammogram (no, that's not a Judy Blume Book) and the Benefit of Bravery

   “Boobies, boobies, boobies. Nothin’ but boobies. Who needs ‘em?”

                                   Neely O’Hara, Valley of the Dolls


       Whether they’re elegant, sylph-like A-cups, the B’s and C’s of the classic hourglass figure, the juicy, pin-uppy D’s or the lush, voluptuous, DD’s and beyond, the female breast is an American obsession. And why not? Mine have done me a few favors and have made everything I’ve worn since 1978 look twice as good as it should have.
       When I consider everything these Barbie beanbag chairs have done for me, I feel like a blue-ribbon dope for waiting until I was 44 to get my first mammogram. I waited for the same kind of reasons anyone might. I’m uninsured. I was afraid to even ask what the procedure would cost. And then there’s the breast-squishing machine.
       That’s how everyone describes the x-ray machine that squishes your boobs between to plates of glass to get a decent picture from within. The idea of having my breasts squeezed by anything I couldn’t stop with a smack in the face wasn’t one I cottoned to.
       I’m infinitely glad that when I finally got the money and the nerve I went to Florida Radiology Imaging in Oviedo (407-84-8722) where the sensitivity I was shown was extraordinary. I’m claustrophobic and had an idea the machine was like a car wash or a Disney ride – something you couldn’t stop once it was running. Knowing the tech controlled it – and she promised to stop it if I screamed like Jamie Lee Curtis in “Halloween” – had the calming effect of a shot of whiskey.
       The procedure itself wasn’t painful - uncomfortable and weird, yes, but it didn’t last. They take four pictures, two on each side, you get a little squeezed, but it’s momentary. Thankfully I got a negative result and the price I paid ($99; you only pay half if you can pay up front) was worth the peace of mind.

       Christine Mock says, she’ll be happy to talk to me about her own experience “if it will make anyone do a mammogram.” Christine is a pretty, athletic, outgoing blonde with a relaxed manner and a lot of friends, many of whom are at a benefit party at Palmer's Garden Center where Christine works as a manager. She’s so poised and self-possessed you’d never guess the benefit – with part of the day’s sales going to MD Anderson Cancer Center in Orlando – was in her honor. Christine was recently diagnosed with breast cancer
        “I’m just concerned I’m not going to able to lift the huge bags of black cow manure,” Christine says blithely, already talking about her recovery from the surgery she'll soon have and facing the whole issue with a refreshing matter-of-factness. The history of cancer in her family has made it a familiar foe and made her extremely aware of the need for early detection. She started getting mammograms five years before the suggested age of 40. Her most recent was on July 2; after two follow-up tests, she says, “on July 16 at 4:07 pm I was diagnosed with infiltrating carcninoma breast cancer.” She’s opted for a double masectomy, since her family history suggests it might recur. With surgery pending, her affability and cool makes her an example of amazing grace.

       “Faith, friends and family – that’s my mantra,” she says and the turnout at Palmer’s suggests it’s working – I’ve never been in a garden center so crowded you have to elbow your way through to get to the pepper plants (left: Christine and her "Don't Be a Boob" cake, from Charlie's Bakery; pink flowers above and below, from Palmer's).
       Christine’s keenest interest in sharing her story is a simple one: underscoring the value of testing. It makes it easier to get the care you need and have the peace of mind you want.

  And after all your boobies have done for you, don’t they deserve a little attention?