As someone who brags about not having the flu since 1997, being mentally and physically able to function on 4 hours of sleep, and not having anything more severe than allergies, I rarely have to see the doctor. Except for that one time in 2015, I almost lost my foot to MRSA, a fast-moving blood infection I contracted from a pinhead-sized blister on my toe.

Fast-forward to May 2021, little did I know I was about to make up for all those “doctor-free” days. I had been working from home since the shutdown until we were called back from working remotely, which meant having to get the Covid vaccine. I knew I was fine, but wanting full assurance of no underlying conditions, I scheduled a physical. Being 51, the doctor noted I hadn’t been screened, so we set up an appointment for a mammogram. Now mind you, I had felt a lump but chalked it up to calcium deposits from breastfeeding that were identified when I first felt it at age 33.

Two weeks later, I received the call to come in for a follow-up biopsy. That’s when I had the “dream flashback” from when I was about 10 or 11.

It was a hot summer day, and I was sitting on the radiator with my grandfather looking out the window. I was sweating bullets, so I reached into my training bra to wipe the sweat from the inside of my shirt and pulled out a “solid ball of ice” the size of an egg. It quickly began melting, so, as all kids do, I began licking it. In the dream, I quickly realized it wasn’t melting ice, it was cancer.

During my biopsy, the doctor tried to talk me down off the ledge because tears were streaming down my face. That’s when I told her I didn’t need the biopsy; my grandfather had already told me in a childhood dream. She looked at me funny and said, “interesting”.

I’ll spare you further details and get to the crux of this article. My entire team comprises women, which I appreciate but am not widely impressed by. We are women and can all go to school to become doctors. What I especially noted was the staff diversity within the “pay scale”.

The woman who performed my mammogram was from Europe. The doctor who did my biopsy was African American, the surgeon who did my lumpectomy was White, my oncologist was Asian, and all the medical support team was Latino, including the radiation technicians. It didn’t matter where I looked: the front desk, security, reception, Covid pre-screeners at the entrance, or the Medical Assistants during my appointment, LATINO.

According to the Association of American Medical Colleges, 56% of the Medical workforce is White, 17% are Asian, 5% are Black and a whopping (insert sarcastic tone) 5.8% are Latino.

The Susan Komen foundation reports the same racial demographic order among breast cancer patients. Based on that, you would think I might eventually see a Latino or Latina in a white coat at one of my appointments. Except, the medical workforce gets divided into “fields”. So chances become even less likely once we look at those categories.

Why is this important? Besides the obvious language barriers for some, there is a level of comfort and familiarity you can apply here. Denzel Washington explained it best during a SiriusFM interview about the movie Fences, “it’s not color, It’s culture”.

For three months, I expressed to my oncologist that the Tamoxifen was affecting my emotions. So much that I had become so depressed in one month, I joined a support group and began seeing a therapist weekly. Not until I broke down in tears in front of her and began hyperventilating about my fears, did she agree to change the medication.

Now granted, I could easily dismiss this as maybe she didn’t realize the severity of my fears. But as a presenting Afro Latina, I felt like she may have been applying the “Strong Black Woman” sticker to me. But let’s not get that twisted either! Because I am a Strong Black Puerto Rican Woman!

In my work life, I routinely advocate for others. In my family life, I am fighting for diversity in my niece’s school district of Norton, MA, and in my “di que” spare time, I am now advocating for women to get their mammograms. In partnership with the Mobile Mammogram service provided by the American Italian Cancer Foundation, I literally cheerlead them and provide a photo booth moment to support them getting their mammograms. Of the four I have coordinated, three of the 100 women tested are now my Hermanas Rosita.

Last year, a friend connected me to Nelson Ortiz, the illustrator and voice for his tongue-in-cheek character “Tita”, to create a PSA for National Mammogram Day 2021. For the Breast of Us also selected my affirmation for participation in their Breast Cancer Affirmation Cards, and there is still more to come!

As more and more Latinas and other women of color get diagnosed, we must each do our part to address the institutions whom we bring our health care bu$iness to.