My first breast exam was actually a rather frightening experience. I was 16 years old, a junior in high school. One morning while in the shower I noticed an unusual hardness against one of my breasts. Upon further exploration, I could feel a very large lump in that breast. I have no idea how long it might have been there, but for how large it was, it must have been some time. I remember worrying about it all day at school, and then crying as I walked home from school, convinced that with a lump that big it must be cancer and afraid that I would die.
Embarrassed and terrified, I told my mom about the lump that evening when she got home from work. I think she was surprised at how big it was when she felt it herself, but she did try to relieve some of my fears by reassuring me that at my age it was most likely a benign condition. She got me an appointment with her gynecologist very quickly, and so my first actual breast exam, rather than a proactive step in developmentally appropriate exams for me, was the reactive first step in determining what this lump was and what to do about it.
After his clinical breast exam, the doctor sent me for a mammogram and an ultrasound, the results of which indicated that it was a solid mass rather than a cyst. My second breast exam was then done by the surgeon who decided that it was best to remove the entire lump, which was done during outpatient surgery under only local anesthesia. Fortunately, the pathology report indicated that it was a benign, fibrocystic mass, and although warned that I was likely to have others in the future, I have not had another one in the almost 30 years since.
I haven't thought about this experience in years. Looking back on it, not only was this my first breast exam, but it involved many other medical firsts for me: First appointment with a gynecologist (although my first pelvic exam was several years later), first mammogram, first ultrasound, first time in a hospital as a patient (thus, first hospital identification bracelet, which seemed like a big thing when I was 16), first surgery, and first stitches and first real scar (pretty lucky to make it to 16 without either of these).