Updated: Jun 12, 2020
September 11, 2001 – Sitting in the gate area, waiting for Southwest #739 to El Paso. I’d moved there a year or so before for a new job with a non-profit that had a mission that I resonated with. Being part of an organization dedicated to opening healthcare access to the underserved was a passion of mine. In the days of Clinton Healthcare Reform, it seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity. But it came with more political and personality frustrations and dysfunction than I’d imagined. Since moving, I’d chosen to return to San Antonio for primary care and dental visits rather than getting established with care in El Paso. Before I had moved, my Primary Care doctor, wise woman that she is, insisted that I get a baseline mammogram. At first, I resisted. I had no history of breast cancer in my family and, frankly, all my female friends had talked about was how painful mammograms were. I was in no hurry to sign up.