My mom goes for a mammogram today -- which reminds me of a time when this test meant nothing to me, a time when all I needed to know was that women my mom's age went for this procedure that squashes and squeezes and manipulates breasts so that pictures can be taken and tissue can be studied. I thought that I would be 40 years old when I went for my own mammogram and that I would casually learn that everything looked normal -- that breast cancer was of no concern. But it didn't happen this way -- instead I went for my first mammogram at age 34, six years earlier than recommended, because I felt an odd lump. And I learned that cancer was of concern. I learned that I had breast cancer. And so now, as I am about to turn 36, I have had three mammograms and will return every six months for the rest of my life for this test. By age 40, I'll be a pro.

I once thought a family history of breast cancer trickled down from the older women in a family -- that a grandmother might have it first, then her daughter, then her daughter. Like a chain reaction. But now I know that family history can start with anyone, at any age. I started this chain in my family.  And there is no telling whether or not the chain will break or will hold strong. So the women in my family are now followed almost as closely as I am. And mammograms occur frequently for us all.

I was once unaffected by my mom's mammograms.  Now I am more aware, more prepared for the seriousness of this exam, more humbled because of my own experience. And today I hope that my mom learns casually that everything looks normal -- that breast cancer is of no concern.