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ATLANTIC HIGHLANDS HERALD |
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GROWING UP It was that time of year again, time to visit with the doctor and have the well-woman check up. And she did say the words I knew she’d say: “You’re turning 40 in a few weeks, and that means annual mammograms start now!” Oh, joy! I had a baseline mammogram when I was 35, and it was no picnic. Who knew that technicians could poke and prod and push and squeeze and manipulate flesh in so many unusual ways? So now it’s time for me to take my place among all women of maturity—and get checked for breast cancer every year for the rest of my life. It’s a small price to pay, when I think about my Aunt Maureen who developed breast cancer and had to have a mastectomy and radiation/chemotherapy to eradicate it. She was in her early 50s—and she beat the cancer! Yet three years later those cells that traveled the lymph nodes ended up consuming her brain, and she died of a brain tumor at age 53. So unfair, life can be. She was so compassionate, loving, caring, and sweet—and she had so much more living to do. So now, all grown up, it’s time for me to take my place and get screened. I take pride in the fact that my Aunt Julie in Florida collects donations each year for the American Cancer Society and walks to find a cure for breast cancer. My mother participated in walks herself for many years in Massachusetts in memory of her older sister. I take the precautions that I can to reduce my chances of having breast cancer…and then, like every other woman out there, I pray that it doesn’t happen to me. But I digress… The morning before I went to the doctor’s office, my 12 year old daughter Miranda asked me why I had to see a doctor if I wasn’t sick. I explained what a well-woman visit is; her entire face contorted, her eyes bulged out of their sockets, and she said, “Will I have to do this?” I explained that every smart woman gets this check up each year, but she had several years to go before it was her turn. “Well, I don’t think I’ll have to,” she told me, shoveling Cocoa Krispies into her mouth. “I’m not going to have babies. I’m going to adopt.” Ah, my babe! It was wonderful to hear that my oldest may be an adoptive parent—she has learned first hand how beautiful and poignant adoption is—but, well, she was just looking for an “out” to escape the invasive medical procedures that all women face… When I told her that she, too, would still have to have well-woman visits even if she never, ever planned to use her reproductive organs, she was angry. Being a woman is complicated and I don’t know one who loves mammograms and pap tests…but, well, when you grow up, you realize what’s important, that saving your life is top priority over modesty and short-term embarrassment. She’ll grow up…just as her mom has. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To see my third ‘baby,’ go to www.publishamerica.com and type in the title of my book Waiting For Lucinda. It can be ordered here or at www.amazon.com or www.bn.com . What do you think? Email me at Ashore75@houston.rr.com.
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