For Harry Potter fans, remember when Snape shed a single tear right before he died and Harry Potter collected it so he can go back in time and live through all his memories? I had that moment. It's roughly 2 a.m. and I can't sleep. I shed a single tear, just one. I knew I had to sit down at the computer and journal.
As the previous post stated, I had a follow-up with my surgeon at 8:30 this morning. So I thought. We went to check in to find out that Dr. Morton was in the OR today, and my appointment isn't until tomorrow morning. No freakin' way! I was so excited to get the drain out and now you're telling me, I have to wait an extra day! I could've screamed.
It was early enough that Tony and I decided to have a quiet, almost romantic breakfast at Mimi's Cafe. I really had no appetite, so I kind of picked at my food. We then headed out to run some errands, and picked Matthew up from school so we can take him to my mom's.
The genetic counselor was next on the list. I was a nervous wreck. I hate that nervous feeling you get when you're so anxious about something. I know this is cliche, but there were butterflies in my stomach in the waiting area. Why would they make you wait past your appointment time unless they had bad news to share, and they needed time to figure out what to say to you? That's all I could think about. And of course, I was right. The genetic testing came back positive. I have a mutation in my BRCA1 gene. I am missing the letter "T" in one of the sequences. Tony says if I have a mutated gene, why couldn't it have been something cool, like the X-Men? I figured maybe I could fly now. I always dreamt of being able to fly since I was a kid.
We were shocked to hear the news, but had already prepared for the worst. I knew that if the results came back positive, there would be no doubt in my mind that I would get a bilateral mastectomy and remove my ovaries. I guess I'm not out of the woods when it comes to surgery. I was referred to speak with an oncologist-gynecologist to review my options. It was almost as bad as the day we first received the diagnosis. Cancer sucks.
Before we left, the genetic counselor asked if we had any questions. We had none at the moment, but after we processed the information, we had a ton. And no one to answer them. We knew what the results meant. My brother and sister should be tested to see if they have the mutated gene. Matthew and Peyton need to be tested when they become adults. There is a 50/50 chance that I may have passed the gene on to my children. Does the mutated gene skip generations, I wonder? There is no known history of breast cancer or ovarian cancer in my family. Also, which one of my parents carries this gene? And what does that mean for them?
Well, on to my last appointment with my oncologist, Dr. Chan. We spent the next hour and a half in his office reviewing my pathology report and talking about treatment options. He really wants me on a clinical trial, and we are leaning in that direction. I have the weekend to think about it. Chemotherapy is estimated to start in about 3 weeks. Just enough time for me to get used to my short hair, and then it's gone.
I need a cool X-Men name, like Storm or Wolverine. What would a flying woman be named?
Lovingly,
Chinh
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