not thought to be an excellent candidate for it. They discussed ZIFT , and GIFT , and the newer technologies like donor eggs, which did not appeal to her at all. And in the end, they decided to stay with the Serophene, and he talked to her about trying artificial insemination with Sam's sperm the following month, if he'd agree, to give the egg and the sperm a better chance to “meet up,” as he put it. He made it all seem very simple, and a lot less upsetting than it could be.
And then he did a routine exam, and the Pap smear, and after looking at her chart, asked her when she'd last had a mammogram, because he didn't see the results for any the previous year, and she admitted she hadn't had one.
“I haven't had one in two years.” But she'd never had a lump or problem, and there was no history of it in her family. It was one of those things she just didn't worry about, although she was religious about getting annual Pap smears. And there were a variety of theories about mammograms at her age anyway, about whether to have one every year, or every other.
“You really ought to get one every year,” he scolded. “After forty, that's important.” He was of the “every year” school of thinking. He palpated her breasts, and found nothing there. She was small-busted, and had nursed Annabelle, all of which were supposedly good news against breast cancer, and she'd already been told that the hormones she was taking did not increase the risk of cancer, which she had found reassuring. “When are you ovulating again?” he asked offhandedly, glancing at her chart.
“Tomorrow or the next day,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Then I think you ought to get a mammogram today. If you get pregnant tomorrow, it could be two years before you have one. You won't want to get one while you're pregnant, and they're inaccurate while you're nursing. I really want you to get one today, and then it's done with, and we don't have to think about it for another year. How about it?”
She glanced at her watch, feeling mildly exasperated. She wanted to pick Annabelle up at school, and take her home to lunch, and then to Miss Tilly's. “I really shouldn't. I've got things to do.”
“This is important, Alex. I think you should make time for it.” He sounded unusually firm, which worried her, and she looked at him with a sudden question.
“Do you feel something that warrants it?” He had palpated her breasts very carefully, but he always did that. And he shook his head no in answer to her question.
“Not at all. But I don't want you to have a problem later. You don't want to be careless about mammograms, Alex. They're just too important. Please. I think you should do it.” He was so insistent that she didn't have the heart to ignore him, and he was right, if she got pregnant that weekend, however unlikely it might seem, she wouldn't be able to get a mammogram for a year or two, so it was probably a good idea to do it.
“Where do I have to go?” He jotted down an address that was only five blocks away. She could easily walk it.
“The entire procedure will take five minutes.”
“Will they give me the results right there?”
“Probably not. They collect the films for the doctor to look at, when he comes in, and he might not be there. He'll call me next week, and give me the results. And of course I'll call you if there's a problem, but I'm very sure there won't be. This is just good medicine, Alex. It's wise to do this.”
“I know, John.” She appreciated how careful he was, it was just annoying to have to make time, but she knew it was worth it.
She called Carmen from his secretary's desk and asked her to pick up Annabelle at school. She said she'd be home for lunch, and she would take her to ballet. She just had an errand to do on the way home. And Carmen said it was no problem.
Alex left Dr. Anderson's office then and walked briskly down Park Avenue to Sixty-eighth Street between Lexington and Park, and into what
And then he did a routine exam, and the Pap smear, and after looking at her chart, asked her when she'd last had a mammogram, because he didn't see the results for any the previous year, and she admitted she hadn't had one.
“I haven't had one in two years.” But she'd never had a lump or problem, and there was no history of it in her family. It was one of those things she just didn't worry about, although she was religious about getting annual Pap smears. And there were a variety of theories about mammograms at her age anyway, about whether to have one every year, or every other.
“You really ought to get one every year,” he scolded. “After forty, that's important.” He was of the “every year” school of thinking. He palpated her breasts, and found nothing there. She was small-busted, and had nursed Annabelle, all of which were supposedly good news against breast cancer, and she'd already been told that the hormones she was taking did not increase the risk of cancer, which she had found reassuring. “When are you ovulating again?” he asked offhandedly, glancing at her chart.
“Tomorrow or the next day,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Then I think you ought to get a mammogram today. If you get pregnant tomorrow, it could be two years before you have one. You won't want to get one while you're pregnant, and they're inaccurate while you're nursing. I really want you to get one today, and then it's done with, and we don't have to think about it for another year. How about it?”
She glanced at her watch, feeling mildly exasperated. She wanted to pick Annabelle up at school, and take her home to lunch, and then to Miss Tilly's. “I really shouldn't. I've got things to do.”
“This is important, Alex. I think you should make time for it.” He sounded unusually firm, which worried her, and she looked at him with a sudden question.
“Do you feel something that warrants it?” He had palpated her breasts very carefully, but he always did that. And he shook his head no in answer to her question.
“Not at all. But I don't want you to have a problem later. You don't want to be careless about mammograms, Alex. They're just too important. Please. I think you should do it.” He was so insistent that she didn't have the heart to ignore him, and he was right, if she got pregnant that weekend, however unlikely it might seem, she wouldn't be able to get a mammogram for a year or two, so it was probably a good idea to do it.
“Where do I have to go?” He jotted down an address that was only five blocks away. She could easily walk it.
“The entire procedure will take five minutes.”
“Will they give me the results right there?”
“Probably not. They collect the films for the doctor to look at, when he comes in, and he might not be there. He'll call me next week, and give me the results. And of course I'll call you if there's a problem, but I'm very sure there won't be. This is just good medicine, Alex. It's wise to do this.”
“I know, John.” She appreciated how careful he was, it was just annoying to have to make time, but she knew it was worth it.
She called Carmen from his secretary's desk and asked her to pick up Annabelle at school. She said she'd be home for lunch, and she would take her to ballet. She just had an errand to do on the way home. And Carmen said it was no problem.
Alex left Dr. Anderson's office then and walked briskly down Park Avenue to Sixty-eighth Street between Lexington and Park, and into what
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