As I prepare dinner for my son, he shoots me a familiar look, exclaiming, “Mom! It’s touching!” He can’t stand it when his food mingles on his plate. Each item must occupy its own space, much like how he believes life’s experiences should be neatly compartmentalized, ensuring that ketchup never, under any circumstances, touches his salad. But that’s not how life works; sometimes, the ketchup and salad will collide. “Deal with it,” I respond, perhaps a bit too bluntly. “You can’t always keep everything perfectly separated.” This is just as true for dinner as it is for life itself.
In the past week, it feels like everything has intertwined— the chaotic, the unsettling, and the beautiful. Our family gathered from various places to celebrate the Jewish New Year. My daughter lost her first tooth, and we marked my 37th birthday. We even managed to give our baby her Hebrew name, just days before she turned eight months old. Yet, amid these joyful occasions, I found myself waiting, anxiously anticipating the phone to ring, reveling in the happiness but burdened by a lingering thought: What if?
A fortnight ago, I underwent my first baseline mammogram. By typical standards, I possess no significant risk factors for breast cancer. I’m 37, I have no family history of breast cancer, and I don’t smoke. However, I carry two crucial risk factors: I have breasts. The stark reality is that having breasts inherently involves risk.
Medical professionals reassured me that the spot identified on my mammogram appeared “friendly,” but they admitted there was no scientific evidence to support this comforting notion. They couldn’t locate it during an ultrasound for further examination. The consensus was to observe and return in six months to see if anything changed. Yet, they conceded that it might not be benign. The uncertainty was unbearable; I couldn’t endure six months of ambiguity. I had already spent six days in limbo, eating my weight in tater tots out of stress. For various health reasons, I required more information.
For me, that meant a stereotactic biopsy. Just before the Jewish New Year and my birthday celebrations, as well as the tooth loss, I found myself lying on a table with a hole cut out for my right breast to hang through. The entire procedure lasted about 90 minutes, leaving me feeling as though I had been hit by a truck. Then, I waited.
This period of waiting allowed me to reflect on how, in all my 37 years, I had never prioritized checking my own breasts amidst my numerous responsibilities for others. The simple act of examining my breasts, taking about 45 seconds to a minute, had always been sidelined. I was always too busy—rushing through chores, sending emails, preparing meals, shopping, reading, writing, and generally doing everything except putting my health first.
This morning, as I pull into the preschool parking lot, I see a parade of adorable children clad in colorful rain gear, making their way into the building. Ladybugs, dinosaurs, and butterflies, all dressed in raincoats and boots, ensuring they stay dry and stylish. I glance at the mothers accompanying them, many of whom resemble me—drenched, disheveled, with babies on their hips, flip-flops on their feet, splashing through puddles, all without a raincoat or umbrella. It’s understandable, right? We stand there, soaked, while caring for our children. But at what point did we decide to put their needs above our own? When did we accept that caring for them meant neglecting ourselves?
It’s crucial for us to prioritize our health—not just for our children’s sake. Women often hear the message that they should take care of themselves for their families or partners, but the reality is that women must prioritize their health simply because they matter. Full stop. Women are important, not based on their relationships with others but because of their inherent dignity. They deserve to take care of themselves for their own sake. Nothing else on that endless to-do list matters if they don’t start with their own health.
As I enter my 37th year, I’d like to share a few belated birthday wishes with you:
- Conduct a breast exam today. It doesn’t have to be perfect; just look for any changes. Mammograms are typically annual starting at 40, but many changes can occur before that age. The best way to safeguard yourself is to check regularly.
- Set reminders for self-exams. There are handy apps available, such as Keep a Breast and Your Man Reminder, to help you stay on track.
- If you’re over 40, ensure your mammogram is scheduled. If you’re younger, speak with your doctor about the possibility of a baseline mammogram.
- Consider donating to breast cancer research, as I plan to do. Many great causes are out there; contribute what you can.
- Finally, share this message with anyone you know who has breasts. Do it out of love and to remind them that their health is paramount. Women are important—period.
After what felt like an eternity, I received the call from my doctor: it was just a lymph node, nothing to worry about. I’ll return in six months for a follow-up. I don’t feel like I narrowly escaped danger; I feel awakened, like someone has opened my eyes and an umbrella, urging me to take care of myself. I’m filled with love, hope, and a tiny titanium clip that now resides in my breast, marking the doctors’ intervention. We’re all marked in some way.
So, take charge of your health today. You matter.
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Summary:
In the whirlwind of daily life, it’s essential for women to prioritize their health. Amidst responsibilities to family and friends, self-care often takes a backseat. Regular breast examinations and awareness of one’s health are crucial. As women navigate their roles, they must remember that their well-being is paramount—not only for themselves but also for those they care for. The narrative emphasizes the importance of self-care and provides actionable steps for women to take charge of their health.