Breast Cancer Risk Assessment
Do you know your risk level?
I expect to receive a phone call from my doctor’s office today with results from the mammogram I had on Friday. Mammogram time has aligned with tax season this year for an added dose of anxiety.
In 2020, my twin sister went for a routine mammogram — that she almost skipped — and found out she had breast cancer.
I always assumed it would be me — I’m at more of a risk than my twin since I haven’t had children. In fact, according to the risk assessment tool from the National Cancer Institute, my lifetime risk of developing breast cancer is 31%. The radiologist who did my mammogram did not go over my risk assessment results with me, by the way. However, past radiologists have gone over it with me — and recommended I get two mammograms each year, a regular mammogram and a breast MRI. I haven’t taken them up on that offer because I really haven’t felt like having that fight with my insurance company.
The risk assessment is available free, online. If you don’t know your level of risk, take a moment and do the assessment.
What does it really mean? Maybe nothing. I mean, there’s a 69% chance I won’t get breast cancer, I suppose, and 69 is bigger than 31. Right?
For me, it means I don’t skip my annual mammogram. It doesn’t matter how unpleasant they are. Breast cancer is much worse than a mammogram. I have seen the monster up close, and it is ugly and terrible — but it can also be defeated. However, it is easier to defeat if you catch it when it’s just a little monster. Early detection is your best bet, and the way to detect it early is through a mammogram.
I’m not sure my mom ever got routine mammograms. If she did, it certainly wasn’t every year. By the time they diagnosed her cancer, it was probably stage 4 (the doctor wouldn’t tell her what stage it was, which is a sign that it was bad). She knew she had cancer because she could see it — it was as if her nipple were a rotten apple, sunken in and moist. No woman should wait until she can see her cancer and pour peroxide on it before she goes for a mammogram. Please don’t do that.
My mom survived. She had her breast removed — just the offending breast. A couple years later, the other breast developed cancer — an entirely different type of breast cancer — so she had it removed, as well. She regretted not getting them both removed in the first place. She survived the second cancer, too (they caught that one early).
My point is this: don’t skip your mammogram. Get one every year. Nag the women in your life to get theirs. You can’t fight a monster if you don’t know it’s there.
