Here I am again. In a white gown, relaxing, reading a fashion magazine and glancing at the wall-mounted TV screen. I am sipping an espresso and contemplating trying one of those yummy-looking cakes so beautifully arranged on a two-tier porcelain cake stand. I am surrounded by a few other women also wearing white gowns; some are reading, some are looking busy on their laptops, and some are scrolling through their phones. The woman behind me must be in her thirties; others look middle-aged, and some are older. All the chairs are taken; this place is extremely popular. Appointments are booked months in advance.

I know the procedure well. After all, I have been a regular here for many years. When my name is called, I will walk into one of the rooms. And the pampering will begin. Starting with the professional consultation, followed by a few minutes of intense upper-body massage and half hour of a relaxing body treatment with sticky, warm gel and the massager gliding across my skin, while I enjoy looking at the beautiful butterfly decorations stuck on the ceiling. Then another professional consultation completes the experience.

At first glance, one would think we were sitting in a beauty spa. I wish. This is my regular annual breast screening at a Brisbane Breast Clinic. I have been coming here for nearly ten years now. I had my first mammogram when I was 41. That year, a good friend of the same age, was diagnosed with breast cancer. It shook my world. It scared me. I did not want to wait until I turned 50 to start my screening. So, my visits to the local government-funded mammographic breast screening program began.

A few years ago, following a routine examination, my GP had referred me for further investigations. When I first walked into this clinic, I was anxious and worried. But the professionalism of the clinic’s staff and the kindness I experienced from both the staff and the volunteers soon made me feel calm and confident I was in good hands.

I look around me. The young woman who was sitting behind me has just had her ultrasound. She is now back in her chair, looking nervous and worried. I suspect it is her first visit to the clinic. I know how that feels. As if the volunteer senses the young woman’s emotions, she asks if any of us have any concerns or questions to let her know. She is here to help.

I hear my name called. The volunteer introduces herself and shows me into one of the rooms. Mammogram done. Tick. Ultrasound done. Tick. Doctor’s consultation done. Tick. The results are good. I am done for another year. I farewell the wonderful staff and the amazing volunteers who make mine and the experience of many other women so much less stressful. I cannot thank them enough. I will be back next year for another pampering session.

Published with thanks to author Aleksandra Erac-Zganec. First published in The Weekend Australian 6 – 7 July 2024.