Cold.

Uncomfortable.

Painful.

And certainly no place for modesty.

This is a mammogram appointment.

I was lucky enough to have my annual mammogram appointment last week. I realize that without a doctor’s written order, you can’t get one covered under your insurance. If you’re lucky enough to have insurance. I didn’t get one last year. With packing and moving and the end of the school year coming to a close, I let it lapse. But with a history of breast cancer in my family, I decided that it would be a good idea if I went this year. It’s not that I avoid it, it’s just uncomfortable.  

The holding room looks like this: women of all ages, all races, all in blue hospital gowns that open to the front. We’re all nervous. We’re all wondering what our results will be. We’re all women brought together by one cause. To stamp out breast cancer.

Cancer doesn’t care what color or race you are, or what sex you identify with. Cancer doesn’t care if you drive a Range Rover or a Scion. Cancer doesn’t care of you live on Lido Island or Wheeling Island. But we can all come together and get our screenings done. We are all equal in the eyes of cancer.

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