Present Dense

Oh say can you “C”

I had my annual mammogram in July. Not my favorite procedure in the world, but certainly not the worst. I’ll take a mamm over a pelvic exam any day of the week. Yeah, I said what I said. Oh, and if TMI is your cup of tea, pull up a chair. I’m just getting started.

A week later, I got the all clear – mostly. Breaking news: the C in my 34Cs doesn’t just stand for cup size, but density. About half of women over 40 have dense breasts, and since September 2024, every mammography facility in the country has been required to tell you if you’re one of them.

The scale runs from A to D, and my “heterogeneously dense” breasts fall into category C, meaning the tissue may obscure small masses. Women with the densest breasts can face up to four times the breast cancer risk of women with mostly fatty tissue. Dense tissue also shows up white on a mammogram. So do tumors. So reading mine is a bit like looking for a polar bear in a snowstorm.

The report suggested a conversation with my doctor as a next step.

And that’s exactly what I did. Last Tuesday, I sat down with my awesome gynecologist and discussed adding an ultrasound to the picture. She agreed, and we decided from now on I’d get both, every year, but we’d go ahead and get one now to get caught up.

I was able to get on the docket for the next morning. It was just me and the female tech in the room, and the dress-down procedure was pretty similar to mammogram protocol. Top off, hospital gown open in front. She directed me to an exam chair laid flat and started the prep. The gel was warm and I blurted out, “Warm? I wasn’t expecting that!” The tech just nodded and went about her business. Seen one set of boobs, seen them all, I suppose.

We started on the right side. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. I thought, “Hmmm, that seems like an awful LOT of clicks,” and then, “Well, maybe that’s just how this works.” But while the right side got its own photo shoot, the ultrasound paparazzi barely showed up for the left.

I had purposely not talked to the tech during the process, so as to not distract her, not even when the barrage of right-side clicks spiked my Panic at the Disco. But while getting re-dressed, I quickly reverted into small talk meets mini stand-up comedy, as I often do when I get nervous at medical appointments. I discovered she was also Midwest born and raised (her Ohio to my Michigan). I remember thinking, be kind, be funny, be CHARMING if you can. As if that would make my ultrasound come back with more favorable results.

Of course, the second I got in the car, I did two things: asked Claude if I should be worried, and sent a video text to my bestie, who’d had her own breast ultrasound recently. Both said it’s completely normal for one side to be more closely imaged than the other, especially for a first ultrasound. I also realized there wasn’t anything to be gained by worrying about it, other than stressing myself out even more. The outcome was going to be the outcome, and in the next five to seven business days, I’d know exactly what that was. I was told the results would be uploaded to my online portal followed by a letter in the mail, and if there was anything abnormal, my doctor would be in touch.

I checked my online portal the following Monday, and as promised, there it was. Results: benign. A couple of tiny cysts, each smaller than a centimeter. And at 6 o’clock, a 0.9 x 0.6 x 0.9 cm mass labeled a “degenerating fibroadenoma.” A degenerating what? Back to Claude I go!

“...a common benign breast lump that, over time, can calcify and shrink (‘degenerate’). This is a well-recognized benign pattern, not an active or growing process.”

Ah. A retiring mass, so to speak. Does it qualify for AARP?

I also asked for a comparison in terms of size. Because 0.9 x 0.6 x 0.9 cm does not immediately visually translate for me. Who am I, Good Will Hunting?

“...roughly the size of a chickpea, just under a centimeter in its longest dimension.”

How very Mediterranean of me.

So the right side got all the photos because it had more to say. The left had nothing interesting to report. And now we have a baseline.

Exhale.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and with it comes a lot of pink-branded gear and products, usually with a percentage of related sales going directly towards research to support the cause. But let’s not bury the lede: get your mamm (in fact, this Friday is National Mammography Day). Don’t let the fear talk you into believing the lie that you’re better off not knowing. Caught early, breast cancer is one of the most treatable cancers there is. When it’s found before it spreads beyond the breast, the five-year survival rate is 99%. And I’m certain many, many, MANY of you reading this can attest to that firsthand.

Most insurance plans also cover screening mammograms at no cost starting at 40, and if you’re uninsured or underinsured, every state has a CDC-funded program that offers them free or low-cost to women who qualify.

And if your report says you’re dense, it’s not an insult. Welcome to my club! Take a deep breath, talk to your doctor, and request an ultrasound. As of this year, most private insurance plans have to cover it at no cost to you.

Insist if you have to. Be your own best advocate. Let the tata paparazzi have a field day.

XO,
SG

Hopeless Semantic lands in your inbox on Wednesdays. If someone in your life belongs here, send them this way.