Consumed Goes to the Doctor

A Friendly Public Service Announcement

Hi beautiful consumers! Interrupting your typical weekly programming with a different kind of post that I hope helps at least one of you. It’s about healthcare and preventative screenings, not the usual Consumed fodder, but it’s important.

I had a health scare that began in July and concluded last week. It started with my quarterly breast self-exam to check for bumps and lumps. If you aren’t sure of how to do this, here’s a step-by-step guide. I felt two painful, new bumps — one quite large and the other like a small rock. I decided to give it a couple weeks and wait for my cycle to come and go before booking a Doctor’s appointment. The bumps remained while my anxiety grew. The earliest I could make an appointment with an OB/GYN for a clinical breast exam was about 1.5 months out. The exam is just the physician checking with their hands to find the bumps and if they seem concerning, you’ll get a referral to a Radiologist. I got a referral and a recommendation to check things out sooner rather than later, which spooked me a bit.

Either I could wait 6 to 8 weeks for an appointment in a convenient location or go the following day to a radiology center in Queens. Despite an intense work week, I went for the appointment in Queens — I couldn’t handle two more months of health anxiety. The only people I told were my partner and my boss, who was incredibly supportive, encouraging, and reassuring. I didn’t want to spook family or friends by telling them anything so I just kept quiet. I then went down the rabbit hole of ‘Breast Cancer at 30’ articles and videos, read social media posts about how painful mammograms are (‘they’ll flatten your boobs into a pancake!’) and slowly, but surely spiraled. I didn’t sleep at all that night, tossing and turning as my mind contemplated every possible awful outcome.

That day (last Tuesday), I turned up to my appointment with the office full of women going through their own health journeys. Even with good insurance and a Doctor’s referral, my out of pocket cost for a diagnostic Mammogram and Sonogram was over $650. I will have to fight with my insurance provider to 1) understand why my co-pay was so high and 2) see if they will reimburse me.

The Mammogram was first up. I put on a top that was open down the front while a very kind and patient radiology technician placed some special stickers on my nipples and on the lumps.

my baby hairs played a supporting role

I stood in front of a tall machine with a robotic arm and some plastic plates. It looked a lot less like the medieval torture device I conjured up in my imagination (in fairness, I pictured a trojan horse). I placed one breast onto the machine at a time while the technician placed the plates at different angles, positioned me at different angles, and then compressed the plates tightly. The pancake vibes were real, but also I didn’t experience nearly as much pain as I expected — that could be down to the day, my body, or any other factor, so while I can’t guarantee this for anyone else, I hope to quash someone else’s anticipatory fear (into a tiny pancake).

expectations vs. reality but lowkey there is a resemblance

The imaging took about twenty minutes with different poses and lots of compression. I asked to take a look at my images, and we went through each one as my technician pointed out bits of tissue or ducts. I marveled at the way the images looked so foreign to me, with nothing discernible like an x-ray.

Next up, I had the sonogram (aka an ultrasound). Most women in their thirties have experienced this for one reason or another, so this wasn’t anything new for me, but just a different body part. The only annoying bit was the sensation of cold ultrasound jelly on my chest. The technicians took lots of photos and the entire thing was done in about ten minutes. Then it was time to wait for the Doctor to read the images and see if there was anything concerning. Thankfully, the lumps were just bits of dense breast tissue, and I’ve now learned that my breasts are dense. This puts me at a slightly greater risk for Breast Cancer, so annual mammograms for me will start at age 35 instead of 40.

what I thought about when I was told my my breasts are dense…

October marks Breast Cancer Awareness Month — I hope that my unremarkable story reminds you all of the importance of early screenings and detection. ‘I got checked and everything was okay’ is a common and real outcome, and if we don’t talk about the blips on our radar and the weird doctor’s appointments and awful co-pays we owe, none of us are better off.

Following this appointment, I felt like I could exhale for the first time in a month. I went into work and gave my Boss a tight, lingering hug. I called my parents this past weekend to tell them, and of course their first question was “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” and I told them I didn’t want them to worry. Then we took turns reassuring one another as is typical in our culture, and my Mom told me how her Doctor gave her this guidance way back when: “Know your lumps.” Check regularly so you know what feels normal and right and what doesn’t. Currently, I feel lucky and more aware of my body — and you all are lucky I erased all references of the Black Eyed Peas 2005 hit ‘My Humps’ from this post.

Check yourself,

Roya