When I finally started posting here with regularity, it was because of BRCA. It had ascended upon my life and turned everything into a mess, and there was no way to the other side except to talk and write and cry about it.
And then, in what now seems like the blink of an eye but what then felt like forever, I was on the other side. And in this other side, BRCA is just another part of my life. I’m short, I’m left handed, I have natural blonde streaks… oh, and I have this gene that means I’m 87% likely to get cancer. It just… is what it is. I think about it sometimes, about what the future looks like, it doesn’t faze me. The acceptance (bordering on apathy?) I feel toward it is something I never expected. I never thought I’d get to this point.
But now that I’m here, I don’t really know what to do with it. It’s hard to write about the BRCA side of things when I’m not doing anything. I’m not having surgery until closer to thirty, probably, and I’m only twenty-five. I need to schedule an MRI for the beginning of the year (and obviously, if my life becomes consumed with biopsies and false positives this surgery may be happening sooner than later…) and obviously will continue with surveillance for the foreseeable future. But beyond that? There’s not much going on, and I, strangely, don’t feel much about it lately either way.
It’s not denial. It’s not as though I’m ignoring it. It’s just that it all hit me at once, devastating me and rendering me completely unable to move for a month and a half, and now it’s sunken in, it’s become part of my life, and it’s just another thing I have to deal with, another part of who I am.