The Annual Mammogram January 2026

My annual mammogram seems to come around quicker with each year that passes, but there’s always something different to report!  Let’s see how I got on this January.

Alt Text: A photo of a residential street taken from the ground floor front window.  Outside there is a light blanket of snow on the pavement & on the street as it continues to snow.  In the foreground through the window, there is a terracotta pot, resting on a sill.  There are two cyclamen plants, not in great shape, in the pot.  The flowers are pink or red. They have green leaves with white veins.  Looking beyond the flowerpot, there is a concrete wheelchair ramp with black handrails leading to the pavement.  Cars are parked on both sides of the street.  There is a traditional black London lamppost.  The houses opposite are red-brick Victorian houses with sash windows & small balconies.  

I braved the early January weather to go to hospital for my mammogram.  It was a few days after my birthday.  It was freezing outside & also in the scan room.  This is never great when you’re about go topless & put your breasts on two very cold scanning plates!  But here we are, those in charge still not entirely thinking about the comfort of people going through mammograms!

I had a very supportive radiographer who was doing my scan, but I could see her face drop a little when she realised that I was her patient.  This nearly always happens & I’m very used to it.  I have to take a deep breath & get into ‘battle mode.’  This means remaining as calm as possible.  I also attempt to get the radiographer not to panic: I remind her that it’s easy if she follows my direction & that I’ve been having mammograms for many years.  My attempts don’t always work & the procedure really tests my patience, but I try to give it a fair go!

This year there was something new offered – a chair for me to sit on.  It went up & down, a bit like an office chair.  It might have been permanently in the room but it could have been put there for me.  Someone spotted that I was a wheelchair user from my notes.  I had asked for a wheelchair accessible mammogram at 2025’s scan.  I’m not entirely sure if this is how accessible mammograms have been set up, but I was very wary of this chair.  The radiographer insisted that I should use it because it would be ‘better for both of us.’  It’s because the chair was able to go up and down.  But I declined because I was worried about the chair giving me enough support for my back & even if it went down low, would it still be able to accommodate my left hip which protrudes & makes left-side scanning a little trickier (& sometimes painful)?  After a bit of gentle to & fro, I suggested that we should try me with standing again, as time was ticking (not that there were any other patients in the waiting room with me).  I was trying to hurry the start of the process because I was getting really nervous!

The mammogram went ahead in the usual way – I stood on one leg & positioned myself just about long enough for the image to be taken. The radiographer was pleased at the effort that I was making & at the same time surprised that this was even working at all.  As usual, I became breathless when the plates had to push hard against my protruding sternum.  One of the left side scans had to be repeated because the radiographer couldn’t get a good enough image.  But we persevered & bingo, the scan was completed in about 10 minutes.  About halfway through the radiographer started to rush – running back from taking the image, to re-position me for the next scan.  I had to ask her for a mini-break to take in some water.  She was kind & supportive, apologising for the room’s freezing temperature. 

Quite a lot of you will know the drill by now, but I have to wait 15 days for my result.  Scanxiety is riding high & I’m trying to keep myself occupied.  It’s particularly bad at the moment because I’ve been experiencing extreme fatigue & stomach upset which could be ‘something & nothing’ (as British people say).  I start to shake when the postman arrives. 

A few days after the scan, a notification popped into my NHS app (a medical app for UK patients which gives us our appointment dates, letters & test results.  We can also order our prescriptions through it).  On closer inspection, there were some results.  I opened it up & it said that there was a notification for a mammogram, but the accompanying text said “able to view from 5th February 2026.”  I hate these messages.  What’s the point of alerting you that the scan is in, but the patient isn’t able to view it yet? It just makes the whole scanxiety thing a whole lot worse!

I don’t have any outcome to give you.  I’m hoping I get the all-clear again. It’s been six years since my diagnosis.  I’m still in treatment for potentially another 10 years so it has been quite difficult watching most of my peers who are now reaching five years since diagnosis, & able to come off their medication.  I try not to think about the 6.5 years ahead of me & how much more mobility I might have lost by then, or how confusion will further reign in my brain.  But I’ve got to try to tolerate the treatment as best I can.

I see my oncologist in March so I’ll catch up with her then.  She’s also ordered another Bone DX (bone scan) for me in February.  It’ll tell the same old story of osteoporosis setting into my bones, & why my lower back hurt.  I need some dental work, but I can’t take it yet because I have extensive dental work to be done.  I’m also rather afraid as this medication can wreck your teeth & jawbone.  However, I’m hoping that my Zoladex injections can finish in March 2026 as I would have done the regular course of monthly injections.  But as always, you’re forced to live in the moment when you live with a cancer diagnosis.

Remembering my lovely neighbour who passed from secondary breast cancer last week.  May she rest in peace for eternity.