One man’s mammogram

Getting a test usually done on women

A lot of ink has been used this year in writing about the 150th anniversary of Confederation.

There was similar excitement fifty years ago, in 1967, when this country reached the century mark. On the national level probably the best remembered Centennial event was Expo ’67, the Montreal World’s Fair.

Locally, the main Centennial event was the opening of the city’s new Centennial Gardens, the long, narrow park that extends along Oakdale Avenue between Westchester Crescent to the east and the Geneva Street off-ramp of Highway 406 to the west. The park is bounded on the south by a part of town once known as Collier’s Hill. Through its centre flows the stream that is all that remains there of the First and Second Welland Canals.

Our old photo this week shows spectators on July 1, 1967, watching as, in the distance, the 10th Battery fires an artillery salute to the centenary. Behind them, on the slope below Argyle Crescent, may be seen what looks like a flower garden with its blooms arranged to depict the country’s new maple leaf flag.

Out of range of the photographer were two key elements of Centennial Gardens — a grassy oval midway down the Merritt Trail through the park, marked by a tall, colourful totem pole; and adjacent to it a stone wall whose niches originally bore colourful plaques showing the coats of arms of the nation, the ten provinces, and the two territories (today the same niches feature historic photos of Merritton).

For several decades before the park was established the most notable element there had been the St. Catharines Gas Works, some dingy industrial buildings that generated gas to light our streets and homes. The company ceased

PASADENA, Calif. — When I arrived for my first mammogram it didn’t take long for my sense of secrecy to shatter.

Behind the counter were five young women, unoccupied and anxious to help.

“Andrew Dalton, appointment for 8:45,” I say. “What for?” one asks. With five sets of eyes on me, I say, “Mammogram,” maybe a little too loudly, trying to prove I’m not embarrassed to be a man getting a procedure done almost exclusively on women.

“Oh,” one says, “that’s over at the breast centre.” Of course. The breast centre. On one level, this is a world I know all too well. My family is fraught with breast cancer: My mom had it twice and died from it, production early in the 1900s, but the buildings remained for decades longer, until the last of them were demolished in 1939.

People who are drawn to the park today — for a morning walk, or to and my big sister had it. My daughter, now 13, has the same history on her mother’s side.

But I found when it came to the details and realities, I knew nothing.

Here are a few things I learned:

breast tissue, similar to girls before puberty. Like any set of cells, it can become cancerous.

times more common in women, according to the American Cancer Society. About 2,500 new cases of invasive breast cancer will be diagnosed in U.S. men in 2017, and about 460 will die from it. (From the Canadian Cancer Society’s standpoint, researchers estimate that 230 new cases of breast cancer in men will be diagnosed in Canada in 2017 and that 60 men will die from the disease.)

as women’s: Lumps or thickening in breast tissue, changes to breast skin, nipple discharge.

My personal education began a week earlier with a routine physical, play disc golf, or to work in the park’s community gardens — can see some interesting remnants of the area’s past.

About midway along the course of the Old Canal is a partial reconstruction when I told my doctor of a slight pain near my lymph nodes. Because of my family history, she wanted a breast ultrasound.

The lab decided a mammogram would be more useful. In retrospect, the case was fairly thin for that, adding my experience to those highlighted in several major recent studies that found the tests are over-ordered.

I confess curiosity helped drive me to forge ahead and that despite the seriousness of what the test might reveal, I see the humour in it.

“I should probably schedule a Pap smear, too,” I thought.

I start calling it my “man-ogram,” thinking I’ve coined the term, then learn that’s reserved for prostate exams.

Also, I worry about how I’ll look with my shirt off.

Which brings us back to the breast centre.

I’m happy after check-in to see five men among the 20 people in the waiting room. I’m far from alone! of one of the First Canal locks.

Toward the south-east end of the park one can see the concrete slabs and iron rings that once anchored the west end of a suspension bridge that carried traffic along the original Westchester Avenue (before today’s Westchester Crescent replaced it in the 1930s).

A little further along that same path may be seen the stone foundations of a saw mill built there in the mid-19th century by Richard Collier.

Finally, if you look under the bridge that takes Westchester Crescent over the Old Canal you can see that the bridge’s foundation rests on the sturdy stone walls of Lock 5 of the Second Canal. Dennis Gannon is a member of the St. Catharines Heritage Advisory Committee. He may be reached at gannond2002@yahoo.com

Then I notice each is with a woman who presumably is the one readying for a mammogram.

I’m also told I’ll get an instant reading afterward. I was only braced for the process, not the diagnosis.

I recently found my biological father through Facebook after more than 20 years (I am 28) of not knowing if he was alive.

Although I am really happy that I found him, I am scared to let my family (my mom, stepdad, and sisters) know that I have reconciled with him and reconnected.

I have asked about my dad before (I even had a picture of him), and my stepdad felt betrayed that I was even curious about him.

I ripped up his picture because I felt so guilty that my stepdad was hurt.

I KNOW my stepfather will manipulate the situation (that’s just how he is) and con my sisters and my mom into not speaking to me.

On the other hand, I do wish to create a relationship with my father and start where we left off (I have two beautiful daughters I know he will love to meet), but I am so scared to do this because I know that it will divide my family. What should I do? — WORRIED DAUGHTER

First, a word of caution. You seem to have invested a lot of positive hope in the idea of having a relationship with your father. You say you want to “pick up where you left off.” But, where has he been? Has he been searching for you? You should start by taking this very slowly, and in careful stages.

You were eight years old when you last saw your father. You don’t say what transpired before he disappeared from your life, but it was wrong of your parents to deny your right to have a relationship with him — even if they thought they were protecting you.

I agree that you should pursue this relationship privately. If you develop a friendship with your father, you should notify your mother — again, privately (she should help you to handle your stepdad).

Please understand that she will likely feel very threatened by this, especially if your daughters are involved. Grandparents get that way, sometimes.

You are an adult. You have the right to contact your father. But because the stakes seem to be so high in your family, you must keep your eyes wide open to the consequences. Be circumspect about sharing this with others.