Screen Saver

It was a cold July morning when I found it: a 2cm hard lump in my left breast as I turned over in bed and tucked my arms to my sides.

The discovery startled me upright. What the ..?

My GP referred me for tests, and for four days I was strong and in denial. Then I caved and consulted Dr Google.

It delivered heartening news. Eight out of 10 lumps were non-cancerous, sites said.

I decided there was nothing to worry about. But what if ...

I put off telling my husband for more than a week, and my friends for longer than that.

In the meantime, I occasionally went over a matter-of-fact list of things that, as a mother, I needed to get sorted if I was going to move on: I worked out how my husband should spend the insurance money if I died, finalised my list of pallbearers and reminded myself to learn how to make video messages for my children to watch.

And then I would cry.

"It’s the waiting for the appointment that women generally find the hardest," my GP told me.

"Oh I’m fine," I lied.

I got the appointment, and told my husband.

He was his usual solid and supportive self, although I knew inside he would be feeling sick. And knowing someone else was now worried about me made me feel worse. I cried more.

We went for tests at Breastcare Services in Dunedin and everyone looked like an angel. They were kind and all introduced themselves and sometimes sat down beside us. They did everything right and treated us with dignity in our wrap-around cotton gowns.

Specialist surgeon Graeme Millar inspired confidence as soon as we met him, and told me in fact nine out of 10 lumps were not cancerous. He later told my husband that of those who did have breast cancer, 80% were successfully treated.

I was to have an initial examination, then a mammogram, probably an ultrasound and maybe a biopsy.

"Sorry, it’s kind of weird having someone look at your breasts," he said as he began his examination.

"I’ve given birth three times," I said. "I’ve been through worse."

I told him I had never had a mammogram before, being 46 and not having registered yet for free screening. But I would have them religiously from now on, I concluded.

"That’s what I wanted to hear," Mr Millar said.

"Mammograms save lives. We have evidence that shows we are finding cancer and treating women and saving them. Can you please help spread the word and tell women to get mammograms."

He didn’t know I was a journalist. He probably just wanted me to share my story with my friends over coffee, to cajole the women in my family into having their mammograms done when due.

But when you write for a living, it’s hard to forget the power you have to put things into words.

Disrobed, my brush with potential disaster felt then too personal to broadcast in print. Later, I realised a responsibility to share my story to encourage others to have mammograms. If I could save even one woman...

Get with the programme

The New Zealand Breast Cancer Foundation estimates this year more than 600 women will die of breast cancer. Yet 30% of women eligible for free screening are not enrolled in the programme, and an estimated 60% of women don’t know the signs of breast cancer other than a lump.

The foundation says new data collected by BreastScreen Aotearoa shows regular mammograms decrease a woman’s chance of dying from breast cancer by 39%.

Furthermore, if a woman’s breast cancer is diagnosed through a mammogram, her risk of dying from that cancer is 45% lower than if it was diagnosed after finding a lump, the foundation says.

My first mammogram squashed my anatomy beyond belief but it was fleeting, and fine.

At the ultrasound, I had confirmation of good news Mr Millar had already indicated. My lumps (in fact I had three more smaller ones as well that I couldn’t feel) were defined, harmless, perfectly normal cysts, common in women between the ages of 35 and 50. Cysts come and go. They do not turn into cancer. No biopsy was required.

Did I say good news? I meant life-changing, earth-shattering, I-can’t-get-my-head-around-it, cataclysmically good news.

I texted my husband, whom I’d sent out to visit our university son. I left the building praying the other women there would get the same news as I.

I could have waited in the warm waiting room for my husband to come and get me. But I wanted to feel the biting southerly on my cheeks outside.I turned the corner to see my husband and firstborn walking towards me.

I saved the tears for when our son went back to his university hall.

Did I feel silly to have worried so much? A little. Was I glad I had my lump checked out, just in case it had been cancer? Most definitely.

My emotions were complex and raw. I felt like one of those women in those Breast Cancer Foundation television ads, where you can’t tell if their faces are etched with grief or relief.

"Now we still get to grow old together," my husband beamed at me as we pulled up at the first traffic lights on the way out of town.

"Yeah," I smiled, looking right back at him. "We do."

But elsewhere in New Zealand, eight women have today been told they might not do that, receiving the news they have breast cancer and being presented with options and predictions for their treatment and future.

Hopefully they will be among the 80% of breast cancer sufferers who survive.

I hope they will have a happy ending, like me. I hope their breast cancer was caught early enough for their story to become just that: a tale of their victory over this scumbag disease.

I promised that surgeon I would help spread the word to encourage other women to have mammograms.

I was lucky enough to dodge a bullet with an all-clear after my own mammogram, and hopefully you (and the women in your life) will get the all-clear too after your own mammogram. But until you have one done, how will you know?

Mammograms

Mammograms are free every two years for women aged 45-69 years through the national screening programme, BreastScreen Aotearoa (phone 0800 270-200 to enrol).

The New Zealand Breast Cancer Foundation also recommends that women consider annual, privately funded mammograms from age 40; younger women are less likely to get breast cancer, but if they do get it, it can be more aggressive.

The foundation is also currently campaigning to have free mammogram screening extended to age 74.

- Originally published in the Otago Daily Times