My BRCA Journal — First Mammogram

In most European countries, the first mammogram typically happens when you turn forty. There are different rules everywhere, but that’s generally the age when it’s recommended. As for me? I wasn’t exactly excited about the idea.

In fact, I was downright nervous.

The horror stories I’ve heard about mammograms were active in my memory. Not a surprise, I wasn’t looking for the invitation. I have plenty of aunts who were venting about their bad experiences, rude nurses, cold metal pressing against soft, sensitive tissues. Ah!

My brain associated mammogram with pain and pain only.

Here’s a fun fact I discovered: in Denmark, if there’s no room for you at the public hospital, you can get the same procedure done at a private clinic for free. And somehow, I was lucky enough to get an appointment at one of those private clinics. I got this chance and it made a difference on my nerves.

Now, I don’t know if private clinics actually offer a less painful option, but I was about to find out.

It took only two weeks and I was on my way to have a mammography and an ultrasound — excited in a twisted way, like getting on a rollercoaster that you didn’t want to ride but had already queued for.

I stood in front of the mammogram machine. It looked… suspiciously plastic. No cold, unfeeling metal touching me? A good sign, I thought. At first glance, it looked like glass, but a quick touch confirmed it was just some sort of plastic. The machine wasn’t exactly fancy, but it was modern enough to reassure me that maybe, just maybe, things would go smoothly.
I was still nervous. After all the women in my life prepared me for the worst. That’s when the nurse asked me if I’m ready.

Will I ever be ready?- I asked back. She tried to comfort the overthinker in me and the procedure begin.

She put my right breast here and there, than my left brest — and I thought she migh be practicing because it was fine all along. The pressure wasn’t too much to handle, so I thought there will be a second round when things gettin rough.

She told me we are ready, and I was looking at her disapointed. What do you mean ready? Are you done? Could you make good pictures? Is that all?

She smiled and reassured me that mammogram is over, and in ten minutes we do the ultrasound too.

Honestly, I though she will come back to do it again in a way that traumatize me for the rest of my life, but she did not.

The ultrasound was just like every other ultrasound I’d had: slimy, a little weird, but totally painless.

Everything was fine.

We feel good! Next stop is: MRI.

Don’t forget to check your breast every other month. And don’t let the horror stories from your aunts or mom scare you away from getting checked. It’s not nearly as bad as it’s made out to be.

Stay safe, everyone!

Thanks for reading!