Valentine’s Day means different things to different people.
For some couples, February 14 is a day of Hallmark-endorsed romance: flowers, chocolates, dinner reservations and a table for two. For others…a last-minute dash to the grocery-store greeting-card aisle en route home from work.
Parents of school-aged children often find themselves invited to send in valentines for the whole class—preferably non-edible, but if they are edible, then allergen-free.
Other folks abhor Valentine’s Day, while still others ignore it and/or opt to celebrate a different holiday and sentiment: Galentine’s Day (thank you, Leslie Knope!).
For me this year, 2024, Valentine’s Day was the day I had my first mammogram.
I turned 40 last year, and during my annual physical exam, my physician recommended a mammogram and accompanying ultrasound.
I was…not excited…to schedule this screening appointment. Obviously, it sounded uncomfortable…and perhaps most of all, I struggled to accept that I had become old enough to need this kind of next-level health-care checkup.
I kept putting it off, putting it off.
Finally, I called the radiology center that my physician had recommended.
My original mammogram was scheduled for the Monday of Thanksgiving week. Around that time, I began a new work schedule. Plus, it was the holidays. The timing felt…difficult.
I called the radiology center, again. “Could you please help me reschedule my appointment?”
“Hmmm,” the receptionist said. “We have an opening for Wednesday morning, February 14…but that’s Valentine’s Day. Do you really want to come in on Valentine’s Day?”
I couldn’t help laughing. “My husband and I have been married for 15 years,” I said. “Valentine’s Day is not a big deal for us.”
My appointment was set, then: mammogram and ultrasound, 8 a.m., Wednesday, February 14—Valentine’s Day.
In 2023, the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force began recommending that women start getting mammograms beginning at age 40. Their previous recommendation had been age 50—although Steven Isakoff, M.D., Ph.D., with Mass General Cancer Center has said, “In the U.S. breast cancer treatment community, we’ve generally felt that it never should have changed from 40. So for us, this is back in line with what we’ve generally recommended.”
In addition to a mammogram, my physician also had recommended an accompanying ultrasound. The reason for the ultrasound, she explained to me, was that if a woman has dense breast tissue, then the mammogram may not be able to “see” through that tissue. The ultrasound, then, would help provide the medical team with a more complete picture of the breast tissue and any potential areas of concern.
Scheduling an ultrasound along with a mammogram also could decrease the need for a “call back.” Health Images notes that approximately 10 percent to 12 percent of women in the U.S. “will need further testing following a mammogram,” such as an ultrasound, MRI or redo of the mammogram—so it’s effective and efficient to do as much imaging as possible in one appointment.
In addition to a mammogram, my physician also had recommended an accompanying ultrasound.
The morning of my first mammogram, which also happened to be Valentine’s Day, I was…you know, “extremely stressed” best describes it.
As it turned out, Stanton needed to be in New York City that morning for a work meeting. He left our home around 5 a.m. to get there in time…which meant that I had to get both girls to their schools (two different buildings) by 7:30 a.m., on my own, in order to get to my mammogram appointment for 8 a.m.
I had never been to the radiology center, near downtown Albany, and those who know me know I strongly dislike driving out of my comfort zone, especially in busy downtown areas. Alternating one-way streets, parallel parking, stop-and-go traffic due to the mix of cars, buses and bikes…for me, this is S-T-R-E-S-S.
But I did it. I got the girls to school. I made it to the radiology center. There was a parking lot (no parallel parking necessary!), and I found a spot. I parked, breathed a sigh of relief…and headed inside.
Because it was so early, I was the only person in the waiting area of the radiology center. An older lady with round glasses and kind eyes, wearing a red sweater (in celebration of Valentine’s Day, I imagined), greeted me. Her name tag said “Hannah.”
I said I had an 8 a.m. appointment. Hannah reviewed my driver’s license and health insurance card. I mentioned this was my first mammogram.
“Oh, you’ll do just fine,” Hannah said, smiling at me.
I had been so stressed, friends, leading up to that moment—just taking care of all the logistics to get to that moment (making the appointment, rescheduling the appointment, letting my manager and co-workers know I’d be a little late getting in that morning, getting the girls to school, driving to an unfamiliar place…)—that Hannah, this woman I’d just met, was a gift to me…with her kindness, gentleness, reassurance.
“Thank you,” I said, feeling tears in my eyes.
…Hannah, this woman I’d just met, was a gift to me…with her kindness, gentleness, reassurance.
The actual mammogram itself was uncomfortable, but went fine. I wish I had Googled “mammogram machine” before I went, so that I knew what to expect. Here’s a good online resource, with an image of a mammogram machine, from the American Cancer Society.
The technologist who performed my mammogram was patient and professional, yet caring, with me.
“I’m kind of a squeamish person…as in, very,” I told her, as she explained how the mammogram machine worked. “I’m not going to be able to, like, look at what’s going on.” I was gagging just thinking about the plastic compression plates of the machine.
The technologist said no problem; she would let me know what to do so that she could get the X-rays she needed.
The mammogram took less than 10 minutes. Afterward, I went to a different room for the ultrasound.
Like the mammogram technologist, the ultrasound technician was wonderful. Once again, I mentioned that this was my first time getting a mammogram and breast ultrasound, and I was a little anxious.
The ultrasound technician told me she could use extra ultrasonic gel on the ultrasound wand, so that I wouldn’t feel it as much.
In that moment, it officially became my craziest, most medical, least romantic Valentine’s Day ever.
Still… “Yes, that makes sense,” I told the technician. “Extra ultrasonic gel…yep, sounds good.”
What I wanted to do after my appointment was go home and take a shower.
Instead, I had to go to work.
Least romantic Valentine’s Day ever.
About a week later, I got a letter in the mail, which began, “We are pleased to inform you that the results of your recent mammogram examination performed on 02/14/2024 are normal.”
I was very grateful, of course, for this good news.
I also am very grateful for the amazing women who made Valentine’s Day 2024 my most memorable Valentine’s Day yet. Least romantic, but most memorable.
My manager at the library was extremely understanding about my needing to come in to work a little late that day. Another co-worker encouraged me to take my time getting in; she would take care of things for me until I got there, she’d said.
Hannah, the receptionist at the radiology center, really touched my heart with her kindness. The mammogram technologist and ultrasound technician, both women as well, also treated me so well.
Later that day, when I went to pick Anna up from school, the other moms asked me how my appointment had gone—they listened, they cared.
Valentine’s Day means different things to different people.
This year, for me, it meant women’s health and female friendship.
Photo credit: Pixabay
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Melissa Leddy 