Читать книгу Pink Ribbon Stories: A Celebration of Life - Tammy Miller - Страница 15

In 1981, I went after work one day for my first mammogram. It was a terrible experience. The office was cold, dreary and unwelcoming and the people were unfriendly. I put the vest that they give you on backwards, was then ridiculed by the technician and just felt that the entire visit was humiliating. When I left that day, I swore that I would never go back for another mammogram again – and I didn’t, for sixteen years.

After a decade and a half, I received a letter from my insurance company “reminding” me that I hadn’t gone for a mammogram in years. Truthfully, my initial thought was that the letter was rude and it was none of their business. I kept the letter, though, and after a while began to worry that maybe they would cancel my insurance because of it. So, completely unenthusiastic, I scheduled an appointment for a mammogram.

I was shocked at how much everything had changed since my first visit. The people were accommodating and friendly, and the office was warmer with colored wallpaper and decorations. The whole experience was so much better, until the bad news started.

I was told they found micro-calcifications on my mammogram that are indicators of early breast cancer and from there, everything happened very quickly. I had an excisional biopsy, which confirmed the diagnosis followed by immediate surgery, and went back to work right away. I opted not to have reconstruction. At that time, it was very hard to find prostheses and I was extremely frustrated. Eventually I found a small shop that sold them. Years later, larger clothing stores ultimately began offering these types of things as well.

Since my experience, people have become much more open when speaking about the disease. I remember, before I was diagnosed, I met a woman who was surprisingly forthcoming about her breast cancer. I used to make the daily deposits for the municipality and she was the person who processed them; that was the extent of our relationship. I always thought it was so strange when she would talk to me about her cancer and mastectomy. All I could really think was, “we’re in a bank, for goodness sake.” As time went on, though, I came to truly admire her and how she dealt with her disease. After being diagnosed myself, it solidified my opinion that talking openly about your cancer is a good thing. A woman who lived down the street from me was also diagnosed and had completely secluded herself for months; she did not want to talk to anyone about what she had gone through. One day, I thought “the heck with it” and knocked on her door to ask her to talk. We spoke for a while about her cancer and mastectomy; she cried for the first time that day, and finally came to terms with her situation. Today, she is a gracious, confident woman.

Having my daughter diagnosed last year was a completely different story. I was devastated for her and struggled to process her diagnosis. Although she had regular checkups for years, her cancer was much more advanced. She needed chemotherapy and eventually radiation. I wanted to ease her “chemo days” and the fatigue it created, so I made weekly visits with prepared meals and helped with laundry and other tasks around the house. Watching her struggle with the indignities she was forced to endure as a result of her chemotherapy broke my heart. Her sense of humor, strength of character, and wonderful support from her husband and family got her through the trying times. Today, I am so very proud of her and the tremendous strides she’s made. She is a beautiful lady.

Cynthia Anderson

As written by Kelsey Itak (her granddaughter and a Pink Ribbon Writer for this book)

Cynthia Anderson lives in Point Pleasant Beach, NJ with her husband. She has 4 children, 8 grandchildren, and 3 step-grandchildren.