breast cancer

Why a Double Mastectomy? It’s Complicated

Last week a new study with an inflammatory headline went viral: “Double mastectomy ‘not necessary’ for most women.” The study, from the University of Michigan Comprehensive Cancer Center, found that 70 percent of women who had a double mastectomy following a breast cancer diagnosis did so despite a very low risk of facing cancer in the healthy breast.

What troubles me about this genre of breast cancer research is the finger-wagging tone. Full disclosure, I had a double mastectomy without reconstruction in 2009. I was 38. I knew the risk of cancer appearing in my other breast was relatively low, but I made the decision that was right for me. In choosing a double mastectomy, I was in the minority. Only 8 percent of breast cancer patients opt for double mastectomy. That means, 92 percent of us choose something else. So why does that 8 percent drive researchers to distraction?

I picture breast cancer researchers in their labs, their clinics, their meetings, scratching their heads and asking themselves, “why do these crazy ladies lop off their breasts? They obviously don’t have the facts. They are making an emotional decision based on fear and anxiety.” And, for some women, that might be true. They might not know that (for most) a diagnosis of breast cancer in one breast does not increase the likelihood of breast cancer recurring in the other breast. They might decide out of pure fear. But I’m guessing the real reasons why 8 percent of breast cancer patients choose a double mastectomy are much more nuanced.

My decision to have a double mastectomy was complicated. A big factor for me was not wanting to have one breast. It might sound silly to some but I didn’t want a singleton. I wanted to be able to wake up, pull on a t-shirt, and walk the dog. That didn’t feel like too much to ask. I didn’t want to have to wear a prosthesis just to feel “even.” Reconstruction, which solves this problem for a lot of women, was not a good option for me. Another factor in my decision was that my remaining breast no longer felt sexy. I feared it would become a lonesome reminder of a terrible time in my life. Plus, I wasn’t planning on having children or breastfeeding.

For me, a double mastectomy made a lot of sense. But my reasons were all very personal and, therefore, difficult to measure in a research setting. I’m guessing other members of the double-mastectomy club have equally complex reasons for making the decision we did. Why must researchers continue to spend good money trying to figure out why we weren’t more swayed by data? Got research money to spend? Spend it on saving women’s lives not second guessing our decisions.

 

Avon’s Charity Walk of Shame

Corporate-sponsored charity walks do a disservice to many women. Look what just arrived in my mailbox…a pinkalicious mailer from Avon guilting women into walking on my behalf. “Will you walk? Or will you walk away?” Brilliant way to push our collective guilt/shame button. Thanks Avon!

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Thanks too for perpetuating misinformation about breast cancer for your company’s benefit. That’s awesome! Surely your savvy marketing team knows that the 1 in 8 stat is misleading. If your mission is to educate women about breast health, why perpetuate bad information? Breast Cancer Action considers the 1-in-8 stat one of the Top 10 Breast Cancer Myths. Here’s what BCA says:

“This much-quoted statistic is an individual’s cumulative risk over an 85-year lifetime. It does not mean that at any given point, 1 of every 8 women has breast cancer. Rather, it means that if all women lived to be 85, one in eight would develop the disease sometime during her life.”

Shame on you Avon for using this misleading statistic to scare women into contributing to your cause. 

 

Mammography’s Failings: Rage Against the Machine

I was dismayed but not surprised by the recent news of mammography’s failings. As most of you know, per the NYT “one of the largest and most meticulous studies of mammography ever done…added powerful new doubts about the value of the screening test [mammography] for women of any age.”

But what shocked my socks off was the headline appearing in the same paper less than a week later “A Fresh Case for Breast Self-Exams.” The upbeat article highlighted what the writer called the study’s “nugget of hope,” which was that physical breast exams may be “as good as or better than regular mammograms.”

I hear the ’80s calling. They want their breast cancer screening method back.

Previous studies indicate breast self-exams are no better than mammography when it comes to stemming the tide of breast cancer deaths. I covered the topic for Time in 2008. The Cochrane Collaboration (an international organization that evaluates medical research) had just reviewed studies of breast self-exam that involved nearly 400,000 women. Their conclusion? Breast self-checks had no benefit. 

So, before we roll back the clock, before we go back to touching our breasts out of fear, before we give women deja vu, I’d like to hit the pause button.

Can we all please take a collective moment of silence to mourn the failed promise of mammography?

Regardless of whether you choose to believe in mammography (like Amy Robach over at ABC) or you are a dubious science reporter twice screwed by breast cancer (like me), last week’s news was a devastating blow.

Then I’d like to break the silence with a giant primal scream. Because when I think of the tens of billions of dollars spent chasing the “early detection myth,” I can’t help but think of how those billions might have made a difference for the hundreds of thousands of women who are no longer with us. And that makes me hoppin’ mad.

So. Please take a moment of silence and then follow it up with a big scream.

On Pink Washing: Dear Food Makers, Please Shut Up.

Pink washing health claims on food packaging are obnoxious. They are confusing, misleading, and (often) inaccurate. As a science journalist, I know that 99.9 percent of these health claims are hogwash, and I find it morally offensive that food marketers prey on people’s fear of disease to sell products. I actively avoid buying products with health claims or pink washing. So, imagine my surprise when I opened a new container of miso and found a giant health claim lurking beneath the lid. Sneak attack!

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Nothing kills my appetite more than a pink-ribbonly reminder of my mortality. Thanks Mr. Miso!

I will give them a tiny prop for including a study citation, even though its presence could be construed as manipulative because it adds superficial credence to the claim. So, I walked my anger right over to PubMed and looked up the study. A tiny part of me (the sucker part) hoped the health claim was true. But a much bigger part of me (the pompous part) wanted to feel “right” and, therefore, justified in my anger. Guess which part won?

Here’s the miso dish: In 1990, 21,000 Japanese women filled out diet questionnaires that included a question about miso soup. (BTW: Diet questionnaires are notoriously inaccurate because, really, who can remember what they ate for breakfast? Much less for breakfast six weeks ago?) Researchers followed the women for nine years and charted how many got breast cancer. In the end, fewer cases of BC popped up in those women who (reportedly) ate 3+ bowls of miso soup a day.

A few caveats: the study’s small sample size means its accuracy is suspect; miso’s magic only applied to postmenopausal women (bummer for me); I live in the West, not Japan, so my confounding factors are enormous; and, finally, who eats 3 bowls of miso soup a day for years on end? Not me.

When it comes to health claims, even those with citations, don’t be a sucker. Health claims on food packages are nothing but savvy marketing with a scientific sheen. I can only hope that, if we all vote with our dollars, food makers will get the message that we don’t want our fears manipulated at the grocery store.

Radiation=No bueno for breasts

Worried about getting breast cancer from your shower curtain? Don’t be. Instead, worry about getting it from your doctor’s willy-nilly use of radiation.

This month’s Archives of Internal Medicine includes a special report penned by the smart folks at the Institute of Medicine (IOM) and paid for by the deep, politically dubious pockets of Susan G. Komen for the Cure. In a nutshell, the experts said, stop sweating bullets over the noxious chemicals in everyday stuff (ie: bisphenol A in plastics and phthalates in perfumes). Instead, start sweating doctors writing scripts for radiation-based diagnostic tests like it’s a goddamn ticker-tape parade and cancer is the grand marshall.

The IMO starts by stating the obvious. Radiation causes cancer. Um…yeah. Tell it to Madame Curie. And then comes the forehead-smacking stuff. The IMO estimates that “2,800 future breast cancers would result from 1 year of medical radiation exposure among the entire US female population, with two-thirds of those cases resulting from CT (computed tomographic) radiation exposures.” Ironically, many doctors order CT scans to look for cancer. So, in layman’s terms, our fear of having cancer is giving us cancer.

This damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don’t news is magnified by the fact that CT use has skyrocketed nearly 5-fold in the past 20 years. In 2012, an estimated 75 million people (half of them women) will have a CT scan.

What doctors don’t tell you (because some of them don’t know) is that in the terms of radiation exposure 1 CT scan equals 500 X-rays. Yes, you read that right. 1 CT scan = 500 X-rays. The real kicker? Up to 30% of those CT scans are unnecessary.

Per my earlier posts, I suspect that radiation exposure in my early teens contributed to the breast cancer diagnosis I received in my late 30s. Of course, no one knows. But this new report adds to a growing pile of evidence that overuse of radiation has serious consequences. (And don’t get me started on CT scans and kids.)

Recap: respect radiation as a diagnostic tool. A CT scan may very well save your life if you have internal injuries from a car accident or a burst appendix. But, if you’re not in immediate danger, ask your doctor about other options. He/she might have to rely on more old-fashioned diagnostic tools, such as skill, knowledge, and intuition, instead of just irradiating you.