It seemed like a good idea at the time.
In 1984, Japan began screening the urine of 6-month-old infants for neuroblastoma, the most common type of solid tumor in young children. The test was simple and could show signs of cancer long before clinical symptoms arose.
In 2004, health officials ended the program.
The United States is grappling with the same type of problem today. After decades of focus on the upside of cancer screening, public health experts are increasingly reevaluating the wisdom of administering routine cancer screening tests to millions of asymptomatic people.
Though screening certainly saves lives, recent studies make it clear that it also leads to biopsies, surgeries, chemotherapy and radiation -- even some deaths -- that otherwise would not have occurred.
That screening has a downside is not easy to accept, as evidenced by the furor over this week's recommendation from the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force that most women wait until age 50 to start routine mammograms, and then get them only every other year.
Though the decision was based on new scientific evidence that many more women are harmed than helped by annual tests starting at age 40, it was swiftly attacked by physicians and policymakers who said they would ignore it.
The message that we're over-screening for cancer isn't necessarily a welcome one to the American public either.
A whopping 87% of U.S. adults believe that routine screening is "almost always a good idea," and 74% believe early detection saves lives "most or all of the time," according to a 2004 survey in the Journal of the American Medical Assn.
Most said they'd continue to get their screening tests even if their doctors advised against it.
Indeed, in the days after the task force released its mammogram recommendations, breast cancer survivors railed online against what they saw as the notion that their lives were not worth saving.
Part of the outcry stems from the fact that so many people know someone who was diagnosed with breast cancer in her 40s and appeared to respond to early treatment. It's natural to think of those women as the ones who would be hurt by a reduction in screening, psychologists say.
We're not as well equipped to weigh the risks and benefits of the population at large.
"We think, 'I'm sure glad my sister or my best friend got that done,' " said Julie Downs, director of the Center for Risk Perception and Communication at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh.
Also complicating matters is that it's easy to identify cancer survivors whose tumors were caught by screening, but it's nearly impossible to put a face on the woman or man who is hurt by over-screening.
Patients are also reluctant to give up on the idea that they can control their medical destiny through proactive measures, said Nancy Berlinger, a healthcare bioethicist at the Hastings Center, a research institute in Garrison, N.Y.
"Anything that suggests that early detection might not save lives is going to be deeply disturbing," she said. "It suggests that we can't do much to help ourselves."
The public's attachment to screening also reflects its faith in high-tech medicine, said Dr. Len Lichtenfeld, deputy chief medical officer of the American Cancer Society in Atlanta.