Waikato author Michelle Holman considers what her breasts mean to her.
Buzzies, hooters, boobs, breasts. Considering they’re two inanimate objects composed mainly of fat, there’s a long list of names to choose from when it comes to breasts.
Men love them. Women accept that they’re there, sore at certain times of the month, gushing like garden hoses after giving birth. We complain that they’re too big or small but take them for granted until something goes wrong.
My paternal grandmother had breast cancer. I met her when I was 17, and she was an old lady. She had dementia and forgot my name within 30 seconds but I remembered her when I went for my first mammogram a couple of years ago.
I’d never thought about my boobs. They’d fed my kids, I had a matching set, my husband was fond of them – why think about them? But, waiting to go into the screening room I thought about Nana Holman and wondered “what if”?
My buzzies were okay. My visit to the screening unit at Waikato Hospital was a positive experience – like visiting a select club staffed by women for women plus token males so nice they deserved honorary ovaries. I left thinking what was all the fuss about? Yes, breasts are private parts but, unlike kidneys or bowels or livers, they’re accessible. A mammography doesn’t involve needles or tubes, just a bit of wriggling around and Swan Lake arm lifts.
As well being a fiction author, I’m a “lapsed” registered nurse. I stopped practising clinically about 10 years ago. Not surprisingly, I’m a big advocate for breast screening.
My third book, Knotted, has an underlying breast-cancer theme – Daneka (Danny), has lost her mother and twin sister to the disease. Since it came out I’ve discovered two friends, both nurses, have had breast cancer or a breast cancer scare. Hilary is a vibrant woman who I respect and admire and have worked with for five years.
Hilary was presented with an award for services to nursing last week and her husband mentioned to me that she was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was 28. I had had no idea. I worked with another friend, Helen, at Starship Hospital in Auckland. We had our kids around the same time and our families used to get together for barbecues. Last week I spoke to Helen for the first time in two years. She had read Knotted and asked if I knew her family history. “What family history?” I asked. Her oldest sister and one of her triplet sisters (yes, there are three versions of Helen) had been diagnosed with cancer. Helen had found a lump in her breast, too. Thankfully it proved benign.
I thought I knew about my friends and about the women I saw every day. I don’t.
You might not either. If you asked all the women in your family and all the women you count as friends or colleagues to stand in a circle around you, put out your hand and turned, you’d touch a woman who has either had breast cancer, has somebody in her family with breast cancer, or a friend with breast cancer.
My daughter is at an age when mothers say embarrassing things, but have some shoes and clothes that are worth borrowing.
I have talked to her about breast cancer and screening. She knows I go and get checked.
I am the mirror she looks into that will help her to make decisions about her health and future wellness. Every woman owes it to herself and her family to take care of her breasts. Every man should be encouraging his wife, girlfriend, mother and sister to get checked. It’s another way of saying I love you.
Cambridge fiction writer and registered nurse Michelle Holman’s third book Knotted (HarperCollins, $26.99) touches on breast cancer. She also manages community youth health projects in the Waikato.
November 6th, 2009 at 6:53 am
Hi Michelle. I couldn’t agree more! I found a lump when I was…let me think here. I was 24 I think. Thought it was odd because it seemed to grow and shrink as that “time of the month” got closer lol. Come to find out it was just a plugged milk duct from when I breast fed my kids. But I have to get checked every six months, just as a precaution. It always surprises me how many people do not take their health into consideration. I found out recently that one of my family members had her very first yearly pap check done. I was raised to believe that a woman should start getting checked when she hit right around 16. My relative is almost 30. I was like…you are JUST getting your first check done? I was shocked!
I also agree that it is important to share information with the kiddies…because you know what they are hearing at school from their peers is just not right! LOL. When Koryna asked me at the age of 5 how babies were born, telling her they were cut out of the bellies was OK. When she again asked at the age of 7 and I told her the same thing, her response was, “That wasn’t how the baby was born on the movie we watched the other night.” With my hubby’s head shaking frantically “NO!”, I explained how babies were born…and that was that…No big deal, no freaking out. Just a simple “Oh OK.” Talking with our kids about important life factors is…well important. Because if we are not teaching them what is the right information, someone out there may be teaching them with misinformation.
June 8th, 2010 at 1:25 pm
Great site you have. Congrats!