& you have your choices;

It’s been awhile since I’ve written about BRCA, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot again lately.

Somewhere in the past few weeks, I’ve gone from not caring much about the fact that my boobs are trying to kill me to being more than ready to just get them the hell off of me. I have an appointment scheduled for January, during which I’m going to schedule an appointment for an MRI (seriously, these hoops they are making me jump through? Ridiculous), and I think it’s gotten me thinking. I don’t want MRIs every year. I don’t want mammograms every year. I don’t want the threat of cancer hanging over my head every day for the next however-many years until I get surgery. I said I’d wait until thirty, but can I handle five more years of this? I really don’t think so.

Every time my breasts are tender, or my skin looks red, or anything seems different or out of the ordinary, my mind jumps to “It’s cancer!” Who wants to live like that? I don’t, and the fact is, I can choose not to.

I know everything there is to know. I know the surgery I want (I don’t yet have a surgeon picked out, nor have I met with any). I know that, according to medical recommendations (and my mother), I have years before I have to make this decision. I’m terrified of surgery, because I’ve never even had my wisdom teeth out. I’m terrified of painkillers and the fact that they might make me throw up for weeks (and if there’s anything I’m scared of in this world, it’s vomit). I’m increasingly weirded out by the fact that I’ll have no feeling in my breasts. I’m not thrilled with the idea of weeks passing before I can get through a normal day without some kind of help. Strangely, I’ve sort of gotten over the worries about what I’ll look like afterwards – this was originally my main concern, and now it’s just something I’ve resigned myself to. It’ll be different, yes, but I’ve got a supportive man in my life right now. Should that ever fall through, any man I date better damn well accept my boobs, because they may be fake and they may look weird and they may be numb 24/7 but they’ll be a freaking badge of honor after all of this crap.

Anyway. I’m tired of worrying about it. I’m tired of stressing out about the work I’ll miss, or how long it’ll take to get back in the game. I’m tired of worrying about gaining weight if I can’t exercise, I’m tired of worrying about complications, I’m tired of WORRYING ABOUT BREAST CANCER every day of my life.

So what it comes down to is that there’s no way I can spend five more years knowing I’m going to have surgery eventually. I just want to get it over with and move on with my life. I want my risk of cancer to go form 87% to 2% and I want that as soon as possible.

Of course, I’m making this sound like a Huge Momentous Decision, and really it’s not. I want to get surgery in January, so obviously this coming year isn’t going to be the year. Next January, the boy will be gearing up for a deployment so I can’t do it then (which, really, would’ve been an ideal time – I sure do love when the military throws a wrench in my plans!). I’m toying with the idea of January 2013, unless cancer creeps up on me first, in which case I’m whacking them off as soon as I can.

I’m a doer. I stress out over things I can’t control because I just wish I could DO SOMETHING to fix it. But this? This I can control. I couldn’t control my genes, I can’t control when or how I’ll get cancer in most other parts of my body… but I can control whether or not I get breast cancer. And I think it’s time to start taking control and making plans. Like the say – cancer, you picked the wrong bitch!


6 thoughts on “& you have your choices;


    just thought i would let you know i am following your blog.

    the other side is marvelous. i’ve got my life back and you will too. sorry you have to think of this shit all the time but taking action will remedy all that and one day you will wake up from surgery and go ahhhhhhh.

    you can do it. and seriously, the recovery is not as bad as it seems in your head. (it’s way easier than living with all the stress.) and i was able to do mostly everything immediately after surgery, including wiping my own ass, an hour after i was ‘recovered’ from the surgery and in my hospital room. try not to let your imagination get away on you too much.


    • YOU are awesome, lady! πŸ™‚

      I’m also really glad that your recovery wasn’t so bad – I do hear that the younger you are, the easier it is. I think at the absolute oldest, I’d do it around 35 (but really I want to do it in the next few years), but even 35 is a lot better than sometime in your 50s or whatnot, in terms of recovery. Most of the people I’ve talked to in their 20s or early-to-mid 30s have said that it wasn’t too bad so that gives me hope!

  2. It must be so stressful! I can’t really say what I’d do, since I haven’t been in your shoes with that situation. But I’m one of those lucky people that hasn’t had any breast cancer in the family history, though there have been several other cancers, heart diseases, and Parkinsons (that one freaks me out). Keep your spirits up, try to take comfort in that you’re prepared and are a step ahead of all those people who cancer will creep up on w/o warning. Easy for me to say, but it’s all I have.

    And don’t be too afraid of surgery, being put to sleep is kind of fun. πŸ™‚

    • Yeah, honestly at this point I’m more antsy to GET IT OVER WITH than anything else… too bad I still have a few years, at best! I’m glad being put to sleep is at least kind of fun, though, haha – I am one of those people who is super freaked out that I’ll wake up during surgery and know everything that’s going on. Creepy!

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