Don’t let the little things go

Ihave always been dreadful with measurements. Just a few short months ago I was describing something as being about as tall as my bedside tables: ‘‘So about two metres,’’ estimated. ‘‘You know that’s the height of an All Black?’’, my partner asked. ‘‘That’s like Sam Whitelock standing next to the bed,’’ and while that was a nicely curious thought, it did make quite the point.

But despite not knowing just how tall two metres really is, I do know 5mm is small. It’s the size of a bit of gravel, or a pea, and 2mm smaller than the world’s littlest frog. It’s also the size of the lump in my breast.

That 5mm lump sits at 4 o’clock in my left boob. My doctor says that, when it comes to mapping out a breast, medical folks treat it just like a clock.

Midnight – or midday – is right at the top; head clockwise and four is right where it’s meant to be. As for the lump, it’s not meant to be there at all, though that doesn’t mean anything too sinister at this point.

I found the lump about a month ago. My breast was sore and swollen, and the lump was sickeningly right-there under my fingers when I went searching for it. As a woman and therefore well-used to being tricked by my body, I gave it a little nod.

‘‘Good one,’’ I said to myself in the mirror, ‘‘I thought we must be about due for a bit of drama’’, then forgot about it until 3am; that time of night best suited to worrying about things and what-ifs.

Royal New Zealand College of General Practitioners medical director Dr Bryan Betty says it’s worrying that medical screening rates drop during lockdowns. Many of us are hardly champing at the bit to get our cervical smears or breast exams at the best of times, so it doesn’t take much to put them off.

‘‘In level 4 we’re saying urgent cervical smears – like those on one-yearly reviews – should be carried out. The three-yearly ones can be put aside until we come down a level.’’

The same goes with breast exams: ‘‘Absolutely 100 per cent we shouldn’t delay that type of stuff, we can’t.’’

Ihave a new doctor, the receptionist tells me when I eventually call. This being Covidtimes, he’ll ring me back and see whether the consultation can be done over the phone or online. I tell her the latter would be one hell of a Zoom call.

By the time my appointment rolled around I had a cold, so rebooked; then lockdown was here, and I couldn’t feel the lump any more. I cancelled, but my doctor wasn’t having it. I turned up to the medical centre, had my temperature taken, and then sat in a socially distanced waiting room that consisted of five chairs facing forwards. It was strangely comforting.

Being masked and topless is a new experience (Mum, it’s true). I tell him the lump has gone, but he says he can feel it, right there at 4 o’clock where it shouldn’t be.

I’m heading to the hospital for tests this week, but I’m not too worried. I had a mammogram a few years ago, and breast lumps can be caused by all sorts of things.

Though really, my point is this: while things like homework, work excellence and exceptional parenting should be put on the backburner during lockdown, our health shouldn’t be – our doctors want to see us.

And anyway, 5mm is tiny, eh?