Choo-fucking-choo.
Aw, kitty's nose is dirty
I have an essay in the May issue of Jane about a certain bearded man and me. You should be able to buy it right now so check it out!
This issue has a special section on breast health. This is particularly relevant because yesterday was the first of many, many doctor's appointments in my life as I have hopped on what I am calling The Breast Train. Once you hit a certain age, The Breast Train is never-ending (until you die, I guess): regular mammograms, monthly self-exams, eating breast health-friendly food, etc.
See my dad's mom had breast cancer in her 70s, and my mom's mom had it when she was my age. Sadly, she was gone by the age of 40. And there have been various other relatives who have had it along the way as well. And I guess I have always known with my background, combined with my past as a smoker, that I was going to have to hop on The Breast Train sooner rather than later. Not that I thought I would get it (think positive, people!) but just that I would have to be incredibly aware. I thought I could wait till I was 40. Then I went to see the ob/gyn a few weeks ago and something didn't feel right to her, and while it didn't necessarily feel wrong either, she said, "With your background, it's time to start getting regular mammograms. But first, you're going to go to a breast specialist."
So yesterday it was: All aboard! The appointment was fine (more of "it could be right, it could be wrong" with a little dash of "I don't want to stick a needle in your breast today" to make me a little dizzy) but what was really interesting was the fact that I left the office with three additional appointments to schedule. The first is for a mammogram and a sonogram, the second is with a genetic specialist (who could possibly recommend me for a blood test, yet another appointment), and the third is a follow-up meeting to discuss everything that happened in the first two appointments. All of this is in the next month.
Now I admit I am no fan of going to the doctor (I know, I know - everyone says this, but really, who likes going to the doctor? Really? What the fuck is wrong with you?) so I don't want to be a baby about this, but that's gonna make six doctor's appointments total in two months, including a visit I made to my GP a few weeks ago. Does this not seem excessive for a healthy 35-year-old woman? I don't know. But this is exactly what I mean by The Breast Train. Once you're on, they never let you off.
I can't complain though. It's my health, and I care about it, and I especially care about my breasts because they are fucking gorgeous and special. I'm glad I have health insurance, I'll tell you that much. It's the first time paying three hundred odd dollars a month ever paid off before.
I'll let you know when I know, ok?
(04/18/07)