But I Like Big Dogs

I woke up to my mom calling me at 7:00am.  She likes to wake me up when I’m sleeping.  Maybe it’s payback from when I was a baby, but I’m pretty sure I was a perfect baby and slept through the night since day one.  She wanted to tell me that she bought her plane ticket for when she comes to Florida for my surgery.  It just keeps getting more real now!  Good morning, anxiety!

What’s on the agenda for today?  Work, chiropractor and a run.  I used to hate running.  I get awful shin splints and shortness of breath, but since I finally caved and bought a decent pair of running shoes and an inhaler for my exercise-induced asthma I really have no excuse.  Running allows me to clear my end, rid myself of any negative thoughts and gives me a outlet to unleash my frustrations.  Sometimes running hurts, especially when I’m pushing myself to go just a little bit further.  I can’t physically let out my frustrations and anger on my BRCA mutation, but when I run and fight through the pain I feel as though I am conquering my struggles.  And then I reward myself by having a piece of pie!

I began having anxiety attacks in May.  My days were consumed with fears of my BRCA mutation.  I would get dizzy and nauseous.  I began having headaches.  I couldn’t concentrate at work.  One night I went out to dinner with my mother-in-law, Marcia and Charlie.  On the drive home I found it hard to focus on the road.  I kept trying to shake my head to make the foggy feeling go away.  When I got home I l went on the internet (stupid idea) and typed in my symptoms.  Every scary scenario from strokes to thyroid problems to appendicitis to brain tumors and aneurysms came back as possible explanations for my symptoms.

Great, I thought.  Now I have brain tumor??  I better sit still and not move my head so the aneurysm doesn’t burst.  Let me practice my speech to make sure I can still speak and not having a stroke.  Wait, did I just stutter?  Someone needs to take me to the emergency room NOW!

My mother-in-law literally looked at me like I crazy.  “I think you’re overreacting,” she said.

Overreacting? I thought.  How dare she!  She doesn’t know what it’s like to have an 87% chance of getting breast cancer, and on top of that have appendicitis, a thyroid problem and a stroke!

I watched Charlie playing on the floor.  How am I going to take care of him if I end up in a wheelchair for the rest of my life because nobody would take me to the hospital in time to stop this stroke and brain aneurysm? I thought.  Since nobody believed me I decided to just go to bed.

The next day I decided to meet with Dr. Thompson at Moffitt for counseling.  Moffitt is a great cancer hospital here in Tampa.  I’ve never been there before except when I was walking in the 5k.  You drive up and valet attendants come out to greet you.  If your appointment is in a different part of the campus they will call a shuttle for you so you don’t have to walk. 

Dr. Thompson’s office had soothing music and one of those water fountains and zen gardens that are supposed to keep you calm.  Needless to say it didn’t work for me.  I scoped out the other patients in the waiting room.  Most of them were family members there to support a loved one.  It was a very somber atmosphere.  I felt selfish for being there. 

I don’t have cancer, I thought.  These people actually have cancer, and here I am healthy as can be.  I shouldn’t be here.

Before I could think twice about leaving, a very short woman with long brown hair came out and introduced herself to me.  When I stood up to shake her hand I felt like a giant towering over her at 5’3.  Dr. Thompson led me back to her office which had no windows, no calming art or decorations.  It was a room smaller than my bathroom with white walls, a desk, loveseat, clock and florescent lighting.  I felt more like a patient in a mental hospital than someone just trying to talk through my fears and anxieties.  All I needed was a straightjacket and I would fit perfectly in “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”.

Dr. Thompson and I talked through my worries and fears.  She tried to give me analogies to help rid myself of anxiety.  She kept explaining how your body reacts to anxiety by using a dog analogy.  “If I was backed into a corner and there was a big dog in front of me, my body would start to panic and I would want to flee or fight back.  With your anxiety, your thoughts are cornering you but you’re not in an actual situation where you can flee.”  Hmm, ok but I like big dogs.

When I was explaining all of my fears to her, she would look at me and tilt her head and give me this sad smile and say, “That must be tough.  How does that make you feel?”  Umm… it makes me feel like crap, what do you think? I thought.

Here I am trying to explain to this stranger how much it sucks to have this BRCA mutation, but all I could think about was the fact that she doesn’t have this mutation.  She doesn’t really know what I’m going through. She’s probably thinking that she’s glad it isn’t her in my shoes (although my shoes would probably be way too big for her tiny feet).  Behind that empathetic smile is probably a real smile once she gets my $200 an hour for each visit.

I left that visit feeling as though I didn’t accomplish much.  Talking with a counselor wasn’t going to help.  I need drugs to get me through.  (No, not the illegal kind!)

I made an appointment to go back to the doctor that started this whole journey – Dr. Ram.  Except, he wasn’t available so I saw the nurse practitioner, Kris.  She a pretty cool girl.  She listened to my concerns about my anxiety, confirmed that I did have an anxiety attack (not an actual stroke or brain tumor or appendicitis) and prescribed me a low dose of Zoloft.  Zoloft became my new best friend.  My anxiety was still lingering in the background, but I was finally able to function again!  I heart Zoloft.

Angels

Nesting.  According to UrbanDictionary.com, “Nesting is a ritual performed by pregnant women in ridding the house, the “nest”, from anything potentially harmful to the soon to be born child.”

So, I’m not pregnant, but I have certainly been feeling the urge to “nest” lately.  There is just so much to do before my upcoming surgery, and I want my house to be as stress-free as possible.  I’ve also been somewhat nostalgic lately.  Just watching Charlie grow up and see him learning so many new things makes me miss the times when he was a tiny baby and wanted to be held all the time.  He still wants to be held a lot, but he’s also independent in his own ways.  I’m trying to make as many good memories with him as I can.  I want Charlie to have the best life that Jason and I can possibly give him.  I cherish every moment with him.  One of my favorite times with him is when we are cuddling at night watching the Disney Channel and he falls asleep in my arms.  Yes, Charlie still sleeps in our bed, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  After I have my surgery he won’t be able to cuddle with me for a few weeks.  So I am taking advantage of every moment I can get with him.  He is the reason why I am taking charge of my destiny and having my PBM next month.

I wanted so badly to know someone who was faced with the same exact situation as I was with my BRCA gene mutation.  Everyone I talked to gave me an empathetic look and an “I’m so sorry”.  Nobody could give me any guidance on what to do, not even my own mother.  She kept telling me that she would support me in whatever I decided to do.  She didn’t want me to have to have the surgery, but if that is what I chose then she would support me.  We were keeping the situation hush hush to my family until we need what I was going to do.  I didn’t want my Mom-mom to get upset over the news as she has enough to deal with on her plate.

I spoke about my mutation with a few close friends and some coworkers.  My friend Debi at work told me about a woman named Sophie who is in a different department.  Sophie had breast cancer in 2011, and Debi thought it might be helpful if I spoke with her.

Sophie and I had lunch one afternoon.  She told me her story.  She was diagnosed with breast cancer early in 2011.  She just had a “feeling” like something was wrong.  It turns out she had between a Stage 0 and Stage 1 breast cancer.  She had a double mastectomy and reconstruction, but didn’t need any chemotherapy or radiation.  She’s been cancer-free every since.  She does not have a BRCA mutation, but her mother had breast cancer at a young age too.  We chatted and I shared my experience with her.  She was so kind and “understood” my anxiety and fears.  It felt so nice to have someone understand!  Sophie gave me the number to her breast surgeon (Dr. Sylvia Campbell) and plastic surgeon (Dr. Henry Redmon).  She had nothing be praise to say about Dr. Campbell.

I figured I would give them both a call to schedule appointments.

In the mean time, Sophie and I chatted some more.  She gave me advice and we met over espresso a few times.  Early in May we did a 5k together at Moffitt.  She ran the 5k, Leona and I walked while pushing Charlie and Zoe in strollers!  I finished the 5k in less than an hour, which to me seemed good at the time!

On May 10, 2012 Jason and I met with Dr. Campbell.  Her office is in an old historic home in South Tampa.  The staff was welcoming and the office was adorned with angels.  This is my kind of doctor, I thought.  I collect angels and am a firm believer that we all have angels around us.

Dr. Campbell is a woman in her late-50’s.  From what I’ve read she does a lot of charity work in Haiti and is very well received in the community here in Tampa.  When she came into the room she was so kind and welcoming.  We talked about my BRCA1 mutation and what options I have.  Then came the dreaded “I suggest you have a prophylactic mastectomy.”

I couldn’t help myself as I broke down and cried.  “Everyone keeps telling me that,” I sobbed.  “It’s like it should be an obvious decision to make, but every doctor wants to butcher me!”

Dr. Campbell handed me a tissue and reassuringly rubbed my shoulder.  “We don’t want to butcher you,” she said in a calming voice.  “We want to prevent you from getting cancer. You can wait and be screened, but with risks as high as 87% you’re bound to end up getting cancer.  And having a mastectomy after you have cancer is more difficult than having one as prevention.”

Her soothing explanation helped calm my nerves a bit.  Then she did a breast exam, which I must say was probably the most thorough exam I’ve ever had.  I told her that if I decide to have surgery I want to wait until January so that my mom can come down for it.  Dr. Campbell suggested that I have an MRI done of my breasts, just to put my mind at ease.  When Jason and I were leaving she gave us a hug and reassured us that we are making the right decision.  “Go home and take care of your little boy,” she said.  “Everything will be fine.”

A few days later I received a letter in the mail from Dr. Campbell.  She personally took the time to write me a letter telling me that everything will be alright and that I can call her anytime with any concerns I have.  Not only did I find my doctor, but I found an angel.

And the numerous doctor visits begin...

I woke up this morning feeling a lot more anxiety than I have in months.  Being able to write about it is helping me ease my nerves a bit.

I felt very alone after receiving my BRCA results.  Nobody else in my family had been tested for the BRCA gene, so none of them would understand what I am going through.  My mom tried to be supportive the best she can, but sometimes I felt like I was the one comforting her. 

 I began researching BRCA on the internet.  Bad idea!  I saw pictures of reconstructed breasts gone horribly wrong.  I found websites where people swear that eating a special diet will prevent you from getting cancer.  I found websites that claim there to be conspiracy theories on breast cancer research.  What I didn’t find was anything comforting or helpful.  So I called Susan G. Komen.  They must have some kind of support group out there.  That is when I was directed to the website www.facingourrisk.org (also known as FORCE).

FORCE is an organization geared towards hereditary breast and ovarian cancer.  The website was full of information… and a message board!  Suddenly, I found there were more women like me!  I spent much of the next few days quietly hanging out on the message boards and reading all of the posts.

About a week after my BRCA results were in, my husband and I went to speak with a genetic counselor at Moffitt Cancer Center to shed some light on my newfound “situation”.  They asked a lot of questions about my health and my family history.  The counselor even made a family tree to help determine where my mutation came from.  I could have told her that without the help of a tree!

The counselor explained all of the options.  She was very unbiased as to which direction I should choose.  I kept asking more questions about surveillance than surgery, so we spoke more about ways to screen for breast cancer.

At the end of our session she gave me the phone numbers to Dr. Thompson, a counselor at Moffitt who specializes in cancer, and Dr. Lancaster who runs a clinic that screens for ovarian cancer.  I figured I would give them a call.  I left my visit with the genetic counselor feeling somewhat relieved.  Maybe I don’t have to have surgery after all if I screen every six months.

Two days later my husband and I visited with Dr. Zayas, who was recommended by my OBGYN after I called them to get a referral to another breast surgeon.  We had to bring Charlie with us that day since we didn’t have a baby sitter.  That was not a good idea.  Charlie was restless and we were in the waiting room for nearly an hour.  Jason had to take Charlie out to the car to watch “Finding Nemo” while I met with the doctor.

The nurse called me back to check my temperature and blood pressure.  She led me into this small room where there was another woman having blood drawn.  This poor woman was very sickly looking and her arm was bruising from the blood being drawn.  I should not have been in that room with her.  I was trying to avoid eye contact, but couldn’t help but stare.  Why are they drawing her blood right in front of me??  I thought.

After they took my vitals, I headed back out to the waiting room.  That’s when I noticed the other patients waiting.  This wasn’t a breast surgeon’s office.  This was an oncologist’s office, and these people were here to have chemotherapy done.  I suddenly felt so out of place, and sad.  I was sad for these people.  I don’t want to be sick like that.  I don’t want Charlie to see me go through what these people are going through.  It took all I had to stare at a magazine and not look at the other people in the office.  I felt so ashamed.  I don’t have cancer, I thought.  I don’t belong here.

I was called back to see the doctor, finally.  Dr. Zayas is an older doctor with what I think was some kind of Spanish accent.  He went over all of the facts about having a BRCA1 gene mutation.  Yes, I get it, I thought.  Now please tell me that I don’t need surgery.

“I think it’s wise for you to have a preventative mastectomy,” he said.

Son of a…

Dr. Zayas hardly let me get a word in as he sputtered off statistics and this and that.  Finally, after about 40 minutes of listening to him tell me how high risk I am, he told me he will try to get a copy of my mammogram, just for his records.

As I was leaving he said, “Well, if you ever do need an oncologist, please remember me.”

Um, okay, sure.  Hope I never see you again!

On the drive home I just cried.  It was my first time really expressing my emotions over this whole BRCA thing with Jason.

“You don’t have to worry, honey,” Jason reassured me.  “You are going to be fine.  That is why we are seeing all of these doctors.  We are going to make sure that you are fine.  Pooh Bear and I love you so much.”

A few hours later I dropped Jason off at work and was going to meet Leona for a run on the trail.  On my way there I noticed that I had a missed call from Dr. Zayas.  “Please call me back as soon as possible.  I received your mammogram and would like to talk to you.”

Of course the worst thoughts went racing through my mind as I called back his office, but his office had closed for the day.  I left a message with the answering service.  15 minutes later as I was on the trail with Leona, Dr. Zayas called me back.  He told me that he received my mammogram and that I have very dense breasts (um… thanks?).  He had some information he wanted to give me regarding BRCA1 and he is going to put it in the mail.

“That’s it?” I asked.  “My mammogram looked fine to you?”

“Yes,” he said.  “I just wanted to let you know.”

Thanks for scaring me, buddy.

As I’m reminiscing over the past 10 months, I can’t help but smile at how far I’ve come.  I have just 36 days until my PBM, and that scared girl back in April is now feeling somewhat empowered.  Whenever I feel low and nervous, I just need to remind myself the road that got me here!

The Results Are In...

In March of 2012 I was in need of a new family physician.  My husband and I weren’t thrilled with our current doctor so we decided to give Dr. Venkateram a try.  My initial visit with “Dr. Ram” was more of an introductory visit.  He was very pleasant and friendly as he looked over my chart.  When he saw my family history of breast cancer he seemed surprised.

“Your mother was only 22 when she had breast cancer??” he asked.

“Yeah, something like that,” I replied.

“And your aunt was 38 when she passed away from breast cancer??” he asked again, somewhat astonished.

“Yes…” I answered.

“Have you been tested for the BRCA gene?” he asked me.

No, I had not been tested.  Two doctors offered me the test before.  The first doctor had given me the BRCAnalysis kit to take home when I was 24.  I was too afraid to do it.  I didn’t want to know my results.  The second doctor mentioned it to me when I was 27.  I asked him what I would do with the information if it came back positive.  He told me that we would just start screening at 30.  30 was only three years away, so why be tested and worry if it’s positive, right?

Dr. Ram urged me to test for the BRCA gene.  In fact, he told me that I should already be screening with mammograms.  That was news to me!  No doctor before had mentioned me getting a mammogram.  I was only 28, I thought only older women get mammograms.

Dr. Ram excused himself from the room to make a phone call.  At first I thought that was rude, but maybe he had a patient that had an emergency.  When he came back, I found out that apparently I was the patient with the “emergency”.  Dr. Ram had called Dr. John Cox’s office, told them about my situation and asked them if they would see me.  Dr. Cox is a breast surgeon.

“Why do I need to see a breast surgeon?”  I asked.  “I don’t have breast cancer.”

Dr. Ram explained to me that when women have the BRCA gene mutation, it is strongly recommended that they have a prophylactic double mastectomy.  Holy crap!  This is the first time hearing anything about surgery.  I couldn’t help but feel like this doctor was overreacting.  No one in my family has ever tested for the BRCA gene, so we don’t even know if I have it.  And here he is talking about surgery.

As soon as I left that appointment, I called Dr. Cox’s office to schedule an appointment.  The receptionist seemed to know all about my story and told me to come in right away to meet with Dr. Cox.  “Right away” actually meant two weeks later.  I figured it couldn’t hurt to talk to this doctor and see what’s up.

On March 28, 2012 I met with Dr. John Cox.  He did a manual breast exam and explained the BRCA testing to me.  He told me that if the test comes back positive we could screen every six months with mammograms and MRI’s, there is Tamoxifen (but he doesn’t suggest it) and surgery.  What is with these doctors and surgery?  Why cut off perfectly healthy breasts?

“So would you like us to do the BRCA testing?” Dr. Cox asked.  “It’s just a quick mouth swab.”

I took a deep breath and said, “Sure.  Why not?”  Part of me couldn’t help but think that there was no way that I had this gene.

The nurse handed me this tube to spit in and some Scope mouth wash.  “Swish this around your mouth and then spit in this tube until you fill it up,” she said.

Ew.  How embarrassing and silly I felt when I was practically drooling all over myself trying to get my spit in this cup.

After I gave the nurse my spit, Dr. Cox told me it would be two to three weeks until we received the results.  He suggested I have a mammogram done in the meantime.  Luckily, the office was right down the hall and they had an opening available for me that day.  I headed on down to the mammogram office that was decorated with a lot of pink.  Everywhere I looked I saw pink.  Pink pens, pink purses, pink scrubs.  So I sat down in this pink palace and took a look around at the other patients who were waiting to have their boobies squeezed.  They were all so much older than me.

I don’t belong here, I thought to myself.  I’m too young for this.

The tech called my name, and as we were walking back to the mammogram room she gasp and stopped in her steps.  She gave me a bizarre look.  “When is your birth date?” she asked.

“November 24, 1983” I answered.

She just smiled and handed me a gown to put on.  Must be part of their verification process, I thought.

When I came out of the changing room with my pink gown on, the tech apologized.  “I didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but when I saw your birth date I just thought you were too young to be having a mammogram,” she explained.

I told her my family history of breast cancer and how Dr. Cox just gave me the BRCA test and thought it would be a good idea to have a mammogram.

The mammogram itself did not hurt, despite what some women say.  It was quick and easy.  The tech told me that I should have my results in a few days.

Literally the next day Dr. Cox’s office called to tell me that my mammogram came back clear.  I felt relieved.  Like a weight was lifted off my shoulders.  That weekend was my son Charlie’s second birthday party and I did not want to be stressing over mammogram results!

Two weeks passed and I barely thought about my BRCA testing.  I started running with my friend Leona.  I was quite out of shape since Charlie was born and thought it was time to lose a few pounds.  I bought a jogging stroller and started with the Couch to 5k app.  I didn’t realize how out of shape I was until I tried to run just 30 seconds.  Ow!  Shin splints galore.

Another week had passed and I still hadn’t heard anything regarding my BRCA test results.  I was getting a bit antsy and decided to give Dr. Cox’s office a call.  They told me that they still haven’t received the results either, but as soon as they did they would call me.  Another day or two went by and I called them again.  Nothing.  Being the impatient gal I am I decided to call Myriad directly to see what was the hold up.  The man I spoke with told me that they were in the final stages of testing and it would be a few more days. 

So I waited a few more days and called back.  The girl I spoke with this time told me that my results were available and that she would send them over to Dr. Cox’s office by Monday.  She couldn’t tell me my results though.  Up until this point I had convinced myself that the results would be negative, but when the lady on the phone said, “Hang in there, sweetie,” at the end of our call I knew what the results were.

I spent that weekend visiting with a friend in St. Pete, running and playing with Charlie.  Anything I could do to keep my mind off of what my BRCA results could be.

On Monday, April 16 I called Dr. Cox’s office (I don’t like to wait).  The girl said she received the results, but Dr. Cox hadn’t looked at them yet.  They would call me back.  The girl called me back around 2:00pm while I was at work and right away said, “Terri, I have Dr. Cox on the phone for you.”

Crap, I thought as my heart sunk expecting the worst.

Dr. Cox’s words sounded fuzzy to me, and all I could make out was “I’m sorry, but your BRCA results are positive.  If you’d like to schedule an appointment to come in and talk with me…”

No, I need answers now.

“What does this mean??”  I asked.  “What do I do??”

“Well, the BRCA 1 mutation means you have an 87% chance of getting breast cancer,” Dr. Cox explained.  “I strongly suggest having a prophylactic double mastectomy.”

“But… I…” I couldn’t get any words out.  “How does that work?”

Dr. Cox continued to explain the surgery.  He can do nipple sparing with the incision under my breast so it would be barely noticeable.  The plastic surgeon can sometimes do straight to implants, but sometimes they have to use expanders…  This was all too much.

“What about that drug… tamoxifen?” I asked.

“I don’t usually recommend that,” said Dr. Cox.  “It has great side effects and could put you into early menopause.  Plus, we only recommend you being on it for five years max, and it doesn’t decrease your risk of breast cancer that dramatically.  But having the surgery will bring your chances of breast cancer down to 1 or 2%.”

“I need time to think… I don’t know…” I stammered.

“Well, I am here if you have any questions,” Dr. Cox said.  “If you want to talk to other doctors or a genetic counselor we can give you a number to call.  But, I do suggest that you have the mastectomy before having anymore children because if you get breast cancer while you are pregnant it is very hard to treat.”

And so, my whole world just came crashing down around me.  Not only do I feel “destined” to get breast cancer, but I feel as though I need to be making decisions that will affect my life right this very minute.  Big decisions.  And to make a decision before I get pregnant again??  But what if I do get pregnant again??  What if I was pregnant right then?  I was pretty sure I wasn’t pregnant, but you never know.

Receiving life changing news over the phone at work in an open environment where I couldn’t react the way I felt because I didn’t want everyone to see me.  I quietly packed up my laptop and left.

I drove home in a daze and as I exited off the highway for home tears welled up in my eyes.  Everything was going great in my life.  I have a wonderful husband, a beautiful child, I just received a promotion at work.  Why was this happening?  I am not a strong enough woman to make this kind of life changing decision.  I wanted to run and hide from my problems.

When I got home I cuddled up in bed with Charlie and Jason and just let the tears flow.  Being with my two boys was the only thing that made me feel safe…

Blog Post #1

My very first blog entry!  How exciting.  I think I will use this entry as a way to introduce myself and explain why I have decided to start blogging.

2012 was a year that transformed me in many ways.  I’ve had to make some very tough “grown-up” decisions.  There have been many moments where I wish someone would just tell me what to do, but nobody could.  On April 16, 2012 I received the news that I tested positive for the BRCA 1 gene mutation (L999x Deleterious mutation to be exact).  What the heck does that mean?  It means that I have the “breast cancer gene” and that I have an 87% chance of getting breast cancer in my life time.  On top of that I have about a 45% chance of getting ovarian cancer.  So what am I supposed to do with that information?  My choices for the breast cancer were to either be screened with a mammogram and/or MRI every six months with the hopes to catch breast cancer early, or have a Prophylactic Double Mastectomy.  My choices for the ovarian cancer have been to be screened every six months with blood tests for CA125, ultrasound and then eventually have my ovaries removed.  Hmmm, none of these choices sound like fun to me.

I sought out numerous doctors’ opinions in the hope that one of them would tell me that screening is the best option and that if I ever get breast cancer they will catch it early for sure, 100%.  That didn’t happen.  I met with six different doctors and every one of them urged me to have the PBM (prophylactic bilateral mastectomy).  And so, I’ve scheduled my PBM for January 31, 2013 with Dr. Campbell (breast surgeon) and Dr. Redmon (plastic surgeon).

Here is my brief family history of breast cancer.  My Aunt Rainy (maternal aunt) was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1983 when she was 35 years old.  She had a double mastectomy, but chose not to undergo chemotherapy or radiation.  Instead, she went on a macrobiotic diet.  Everything was going well until her cancer returned three years later.  By this time, it was too late.  The cancer had already spread to her brain.  She passed away in 1987.

In 1984, when I was just 10 months old, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer.  She was only 22 years old.  She had a single mastectomy with reconstruction, and did not need any chemotherapy or radiation.  She is 51 now and has been cancer-free ever since.

In 1994, my Mom-mom (maternal grandmother) was diagnosed with breast cancer.  She was 72.  She underwent a single mastectomy and, I believe, radiation.  To the best of my knowledge everything was fine after that.  However, during her visit to me in Florida in 2011 she was complaining of pains where she had her mastectomy.  A few weeks later her doctor confirmed it was breast cancer again.  This time, it had spread to her neck, spine and head (not her brain, but the skin on her head).  She’s been on chemotherapy for the past year and a half, as well as going through a round of radiation for her neck.  I must say, for a 90-year-old woman with metastasized breast cancer she sure has a lot of energy!  

What I hope to gain out of this blog is to gain a better understanding of my emotions during this process.  I’d like to use this blog as a way to speak openly about my experiences and feelings throughout my journey.  I’m not defined by my BRCA gene mutation, but so far this journey as brought  me a new self awareness and love for life as I don’t take things for granted and learn to treasure all that God has blessed me with.