Today is my anniversary. One year has passed since I had my bilateral double mastectomy. A year ago today, I was up at the butt-crack of dawn and heading to the hospital with Mom, Dad and Liz. Check-in was at 5:15am and surgery was at 7:00-ish am. Two surgeons, along with two amazing teams, and 7 1/2-ish hours later, I was “out” of surgery. Continue reading
I’ve been silent on FB and my blog for many reasons. One of the big reasons is, I’ve opened up to close friends about how I was really doing and shared my fears/thoughts of life in the future, only for them to freak out on me, tell me to snap out of it or that I was fine, and was overreacting. At that time, all I needed was a listening ear, no responses and someone I could simply talk to and be honest. Getting that kind of reactions from close friends really put me on edge. It’s one thing when strangers and acquaintances say mean things; it’s another coming from close friends. I clammed up and haven’t really opened up since.
Anyway… I hope I don’t offend anyone with this blog post. It is not my intention to point any fingers or call anyone out. I’m strictly being completely honest. I don’t say the following for any sympathy, empathy or anything of that sort. Honesty 101.
You have no idea how the simplest things (or luxuries as I call them now), can be stripped away. I don’t wish my situation on anyone, nor do I wish anyone had to go through what I did. Sacrificing something that defines one as a woman isn’t something I’d ask or wish upon anyone. Not even my worst enemy (which I don’t have any…ha, that I know of). I don’t regret my decision at all.
I only wish my life could go back to the simple days. The days I could fully extend my arms, do 50 big-girl pushups without stopping, pick up a pack of water and not drop them, etc etc. You have no idea and hope you never will. I don’t expect people to understand or comprehend my life now. I’ve been extremely quiet on Facebook and my blog. Part of me died at my initial double mastectomy. I’m finding that part again. Life with implants, pain and all that comes with the territory. As much as I try to go back to the person I was before my surgery, it’s not possible. I can’t pretend or live in the fantasy world. I did for a while, and snapped out of it because it only brought me more frustration. It’s not healthy by any means.
Sometimes I get really mad at what I lost. Nothing comes simple anymore, but I’ve learned to find beauty and patience in that. My new normal will hopefully continue to get better. My range of motion will hopefully improve. My pain will always be there, but maybe it will someday not be there. Someday I’ll be able to sleep more than 3 hours at a crack. Hopefully someday I can get out of bed without feeling like I’m 90 years old. Jogging a mile won’t feel like I just ran a half marathon. Gosh, running and not having pain would be a milestone for me. Gosh, no pain in general would be an accomplishment. There’s pain – physically and emotionally.
I struggle with things every day. I’m honestly not doing as well as I thought I would be doing after this second surgery. I’m two months out and still dealing with things, some I just don’t want to talk about or bring up. I was told it was simple and easy with less complication. I had no idea I would not bounce back physically. Gosh, 6 weeks after my first surgery I ran a 5k. 6 weeks after this second surgery, I was benched still and letting the nerve damage/pain heal. Quite frankly, everything recently is wearing me down mentally. I’m making the best of it and seeking things out like yoga, which is gentler on me. I can cycle on the trainer, and that’s my happy place; my first love. I’m doing that 2 times a week. Yay, for the little things. Even still, I still struggle with certain aspects of yoga and cycling. Some days I have no problem picking up my bike and putting it on the trainer. Other days, I’m in pain and have almost dropped my bike. My new normal. Such is life. Yay!
I want to go back to when days weren’t consumed with scary thoughts and what-if’s. Knowledge is power. There are days I wish I never went through the reconstruction process. There are days I want the implants out. I still worry and have my moments with the next big decision I’ll have to make, a hysterectomy. I worry about upcoming doctor appointments with my oncologist and gynecologist.
I am not upset with those people who complain or bitch about their daily struggles, being sick and not being able to run or workout for days, having a bad day at work, and the list goes on. I’m not pointing fingers, but it’s frustrating. If that was all I had to worry about, my life would be pretty darn perfect. Being sick isn’t that bad. Inconvenient? Yes. Not being able to run really isn’t that bad. Inconvenient? Yes. Having a child dump cheerios on the floor isn’t that bad in the scope of things. Inconvenient? Yes! Grandma wants to send your son to school with a Mohawk and that’s your mountain for the day? It’s truly trivial in the scope of things. Don’t worry, the gel will wash out. That Mohawk isn’t really a problem after all when something more serious and legitimate comes up. PS: Live a little and send your son to school with a Mohawk! Lol J
Honestly, it’s nothing in comparison to losing your breasts to prevent cancer. If I could take that sickness or bad day away from you and put it on myself, I would. The biggest thing I struggle with is listening and hearing friends and people complain about such minimal things in life. I complain. Trust me. Ask the few close friends in my life. Please find patience and gratitude in your life, and think before you speak or post things on Facebook. Your life truly isn’t that bad. Be thankful for those little challenges that cause you to step back and have a little break in this race called life.
So what if you can’t workout? My workouts consist of crap. I can’t do what I once was able to do. I do a minute plank, and my chest and upper body feels like it did a killer upper body workout that night and the next few days. I jogged .25 miles, and according to some that’s not technically considered running, and my chest felt like it was being ripped in all places. It’s my new normal that I hope gets better in time. I’m not bitching about that on Facebook, Twitter or whatever. I would love it if I could find a personal trainer who has experience with double mastectomy patients. No one wants to touch me with a 10-foot pole. There’s more to life than working out.
Physically I will learn to accept this new normal and figure out how to move forward. I’m coping and having fears. I’m learning patience with myself and my limitations. I’m slowly getting back into the game, but it’s more like a tortoise walking through peanut butter, if anything. I’m constantly being asked when I’ll be back to things or if I’ve just completely given up. If only you knew! I started doing yoga, a very basic introductory kind of class, and it’s been great. I cried after the first class because I couldn’t do everything and there was pain from random movements. It was a great class, but hard accepting the new normal and limitations. Hard seeing my chest deflate and become pinecones while in down dog because my pec muscles pop out and contract randomly and oddly. I did what I could, and didn’t do what I couldn’t. I knew my boundaries and the instructor was great with helping me modify.
I have gone through the grieving process. I still go through random moments, and think I will for the rest of my life. The simple fact is this BRCA gene doesn’t define me by any means. I won’t let it. I don’t want you thinking I’m in some black hole or dark, horrible place. I’m not. I have my days – More so lately, than ever before. Sarah’s one-year anniversary from her diagnosis is coming up. My one-year of finding out I was BRCA1 and my roller coaster of events and decisions is coming up. I find myself reminiscing, wishing I could go back to life before this surgery. I find myself stuck in one place, like standing still, while watching the world spin around me. I feel like I had this huge support system in the beginning, only for it to dwindle down. I’ve lost friends throughout this because I made the decision and they didn’t support it. I’ve lost friends because of comments and reactions to blogs. I feel alone at times. No one around me understands what I’m going through and will have to continue going through in the future. People don’t understand.
“If they only knew. If they only knew what they couldn’t see. If they only knew how hard she worked. If they only knew the struggles she’s overcome. If they only knew the battles she fights everyday. If they knew, that behind her smile, was a story you would never understand. If only they knew…”
I don’t regret doing the surgery at all. Please do not think that. I do have to say, whoever said implants were squishy, lied! LOL. I am extremely thankful and blessed that I had the knowledge I did. The knowledge to be proactive. I’ve been told it gets easier over time. I am blessed to know and be able to have amazing doctors and surgeons operate successfully on me. I am thankful for my current state of health. I’m grateful for all the people I met along the way and continue to meet.
I would love a time machine and be able to go back to a time when I thought life was tough.
I guess I say all of this to emphasize not taking the simple things in life for granted. It’s stupid to complain about some of the things complained about. Perspective. Not everything needs to be blasted or complained about on Facebook or on the next Social Media site. Everyone has bad days and days where they aren’t feeling the best. I get it. We all complain. Your life isn’t ending. That run will always be there for another day. The gel will wash out. Use that garbage disposal, called the dog, to help you clean up those Cheerios. Sometimes, you just have to accept that which you cannot control. Doesn’t mean it needs to be treated like the world’s going to end. I’ve had friend’s text or email with this or that, and honestly, I have to laugh. Yup, it sucks. Unfortunately, that’s life – full of unknowns and curveballs. If only you knew. If you cannot workout, listen to your body and let it go.
I’m alive, healthy, breathing, blessed, and thankful for my journey and what it’s taught me. This is my journey and my new life. I will find my new self, continue to move forward and become an even better person.
There’s plenty to take from this blog post. Some are going to attack me personally for what I’ve written, feel like they can’t come and “complain”, some may even stop talking to me for my bluntness. I don’t care, that wasn’t my intention at all. I’ve learned there’s more to life than that petty and insignificant ant hill standing in the way. I’ve lost plenty of friends, even best friends, that losing one more won’t offend me. It’s a reflection of you and you’re character, not mine. I have stepped away from social media. When I’ve gone on Facebook, I’m happy to see friend’s successes and failures, and life events. It’s hard to weed through people’s complaints because I’ve gained a perspective and wish so much so that others could be gracious and thankful for their accomplishments and minimal setbacks instead of having to go through something like my sister and I have had to go through. Get a grip on life, step outside your world, and gain a bigger perspective. Being consumed with the trials and difficulties in life causes you to miss the blessings that are always present. It may take some looking and may not always be as bright as we want, but they are always there… just have to open your eyes!
Monday morning, December 29th, I had surgery to swap out my rocks (expanders) for nice, squishy implants. I woke up super early and followed doctors orders – shower with this special soap and put this prescription patch right below the ear. Done!
Mom and I arrived at the hospital around 5:30 and I checked in immediately. After that, we went to the third floor to the ambulatory surgery center. The nurse assistant, Daphne, took me back to my room and I changed into the gown, walked to the bathroom for that happy dance (pee in a cup), and back to the room where I settled in. Daphne and I got to know each other pretty well after my first surgery when I had to go to the ER and spend the night. She and I caught up on Monday. She’s a breast cancer survivor herself and I got her to commit to doing Team Phoenix. I told her I’d train with her and help her get back into fitness. She hasn’t done much and was really excited when I said I’d do whatever it took to help her!!
The nurse eventually brought me two pills to help combat the nausea and an Ativan to calm my nerves. Shortly after that the anesthesia doctor came in for a visit and to confirm what he was going to do. He was already aware of what happened last time and reassured me he was going to give me a different anesthesia so I wouldn’t get sick. My favorite nurse came in and we chatted. Valerie is another sweetheart and puts me at ease every time we talk. She’s kind, compassionate, and encouraging. She’s always telling me I made the right decision and how proud she is of me.
Dr. S came in a few minutes before surgery was to start to mark my chest and my stomach for where he’d be taking the fat out. The incision would be through my belly button and he’d pull fat in the general area and transfer it to my left boob area. The left needed the most work; it sunk in badly! He also marked the right and left love handle just in case he needed to pull fat from there as well.
The nurse and anesthesia doctor wheeled me out of the room and down the hallway to the operating room. I actually remembered it this time because I hadn’t had the knock-out medicine yet. He couldn’t give it to me sooner because I needed to be marked and plus my IV needed to be flushed a few times. Speaking of that, it hurts like none other…and as a result my hand has a HUGE bruise on it. Ouch! I made it to the room, met the team, and even made it on the operating table all by myself. They moved me, hooked me up to machines, put a few patches on me…and la-la land I went…
3 1/2 hours later, surgery was successful…AND, he even got me bigger than anticipated. Sorry, no Pamela Anderson boobs. 2 1/2 hours on the left, 1 hour on the right. The part that hurts the most, believe it or not, is the stomach where he took the fat. He had to take more than anticipated (no arguments there). Originally he was only going to have to transfer fat to the left boob, but the right needed work after the implant was put in.
My stomach from the belly button down and to the right hip is really swollen and bruised. I look like I’m 4-5 months pregnant. It hurts. I can only wear loose bottoms otherwise I’m in excruciating pain. My arms and chest don’t hurt as badly as the first surgery, but there is still pain. A lot of bruising at the fat grafting incisions. Total incisions this time were 8 – one under each boob, 1 fat grafting incision at belly button, 3 fat grafting incisions on left boob, and 2 on right boob.
I’m incredibly thankful he didn’t have to take fat from my left love handle area. He marked it and the incision would have been right on my tattoo I got shortly after Sarah was diagnosed and I found out I was BRCA1 positive. I’m super elated I didn’t have to have drains this time around. Like I’ve said before, drains suck BIG time.
I had to leave the original bandages on for the first few days, so I didn’t get to take a look. I’ve seen them now and the foobs look good. Actually, let me clarify, I’m happy with how they turned out, but haven’t come to terms or accepted the new girls. I hope, someday, I can learn to LOVE them. Every day I have to put new gauze and tape on over the incisions and wear this Granny surgical bra to keep the girls tucked. I won’t be cleared to do things or go back to “normal” for anywhere between 2-4 weeks.
It is so awesome to no longer have rocks in my chest! I can’t even describe the feeling. This surgery was a breeze compared to the first one. There’s still a lot of pain involved and I’m taking a few steps back, but it’s completely worth it. I’ll be back to working out, eventually. My body needs to heal, considering I had two major surgeries in three months time. There’s no pressure! I’ll bounce back (literally and figuratively)! Ha!
Anyway, that’s all for now. One of the side effects of the nauseau medicine is blurred vision at night. So, with that, I’m going to take a pain pill, get comfortable in the recliner, and pass out for a little bit…hopefully…lack of sleep seems to be the story of my life again.
Tits (aka: Firm Jugs)
PS: I understand if you get stuck in someone else’s chimney.
REWIND BACK A FEW MONTHS…
A week after I found out I was BRCA1 positive, I was at the hospital for my first mammogram. Memorial Day weekend has a new memory for me! My awesome, amazing, super-supportive friend, Susie, came with me. I was a little freaked out and nervous throughout the day, but it was what it was. I needed to be proactive and take control.
Growing up I never knew that much about cancer and I certainly had no idea that breast and ovarian cancer ran in my Dad’s side of the family. When I was a little girl, I remember making weekly visits to see my grandma. She was gravely ill. Little did I know cancer would take her life. She was a two-time breast cancer survivor. But, it was the silent killer, ovarian cancer, which would kill her.
When my aunt was 38, cancer struck again. She was diagnosed with cancer; and the genetic testing came back. BRCA1 Positive. She went through chemo and treatments, had a bilateral mastectomy and has been cancer free for quite some time now. As I got older, I understood what cancer was and knew the gene ran in the family, and it’s always been in the back of my mind to get the genetic testing done.
Fast forward to 2014.
I was out for a jog on cool day in March and my phone vibrated. A text from Sarah, my older sister (but not by much). Her biopsy came back and she had breast cancer. I struggled the rest of my run and tried to keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks. How could my sister be diagnosed at 29? What does that mean for me being 26? Will I be in her shoes in a few years? Is it BRCA1 related? Is she okay?
We didn’t know much at the time and had to play the waiting game. My sister lives in South Carolina. Some of my siblings went down to see her, but I wasn’t quite ready. A few weeks later, I went to my mom with urgency that I HAD to go see her and the time was now. We booked a flight and less than 24 hours later, Liz and I were on an airplane. Little did I know, that same day Sarah called my mom and told her the genetic testing results came back but they wouldn’t tell her over the phone.
I got to South Carolina and was able to be at her port “installation” surgery and geneticist appointment where the results were read. It was indeed BRCA1. We all were crying as the sweet doctor read the outcome and what it meant. She gave us all papers and a copy of Sarah’s results so I could get tested when I got home. In fact, the doctor offered to move the schedule around and test me right then and there. I told her no. I wanted to go home and get my ducks in a row before doing such a huge, high risk test that could ultimately affect my life-insurance policy and a few other things.
If you don’t have life insurance or do have it and want to make changes, you cannot do the genetic testing until the insurance policy is approved. You cannot have future appointments either, because they’ll wait for the appointment dates/results and then approve or deny your policy. I already had a policy but wanted to modify it and make sure everything was to my liking should I be stuck with a positive test result. When you test positive, it’s extremely difficult to up your policy. Life insurance policy differs from health insurance whereas it can abide by its own rules and can “discriminate” against you for preexisting conditions or high risk things. Sidenote: if you want to get the genetic testing done, get alllll your ducks in a row first.
Before long I, too, was sitting in a lab getting blood drawn. My younger sister, Liz, set up an appointment at the same time. We both saw the genetic counselor the same day and I can’t tell you how awesome it was for her to be there too. The counselor was very kind and sweet, but I didn’t want to talk about “what-if’s”. I knew what I would do if my test came out positive. Besides, there was no need to discuss a positive test result because I was seeing breast cancer first hand. What was there to discuss?
Thank goodness our genetic counselor was amazing and even had us laughing. We came prepared with all of the family test results, including my aunt’s, and had my dad’s family tree completed. I took a lot of notes and remembered things quite well. The one thing that stuck out in my mind was, “what if Liz had the gene and I didn’t or vice versa? What if neither one of us had the gene and Sarah was the only girl in the family to test positive?” The counselor was concerned about that, and spent some time going over that to make sure we both were psychologically prepared and equipped with how we’d move forward.
We left her office, May 8th, and I was at peace. There was nothing I could do. Everything was out of my control. There was nothing I could do to my DNA to change it.
My life changed May 20th, 2014. My phone rang and my worst nightmare was reality. I tested positive for the gene mutation.
When you’re a carrier for BRCA1, you have an 87% chance of developing breast cancer in your lifetime and a 44% chance of ovarian cancer. That’s extremely high risks. I felt my breasts were a ticking time bomb and I was playing Russian Roulette.
I was 26 when I got the news. Called my parents, told my siblings, and checked out. The gentleman on the phone told me about my 4 options, which was also discussed in the genetic counseling appointment. I already knew and had been doing research since my sister’s diagnosis.
The 4 options were:
- Do nothing! (which is complete foolishness!)
- Do a preventative chemo treatment drug, which would only reduce my odds for up to 5 years.
- Do surveillance – for breasts, I had to do monthly self-exams and mammograms and MRI’s twice a year; and for ovaries, vaginal ultrasounds and CA-125 blood tests twice a year.
- Do prophylactic surgeries.
After getting the call, I set up my mammogram and other appointments with breast surgeons and reconstructive surgeons.
My mammogram appointment was interesting. My friend met me at the hospital, because my mom was in South Carolina. I was anxious after because what if they found something? My surgeon appointments were straight-forward and I was extremely pleased with both of them. They put my mind at ease, spent over two hours with me and explained things in great detail. I didn’t even bother to get a second opinion. I LOVED them.
After meeting with them, I randomly bumped into people who had breast cancer and would ask them who their surgeons were. A lot of them said the same name (which was the doctor I met with). Some people would tell me they wished they went with her. I knew I was making the right decision.
After seeing my gynecologist and telling her the news, she immediately ordered the CA-125 blood test and sent me to the lab. Once again, I found myself getting poked and two tubes of blood taken. She ordered the vaginal ultrasound and within a week I was in another office getting poked and prodded with this uncomfortable probe. All of these visits were extremely stressful. When would I get the call saying they found something? Would this be the time they find something?
Like my aunt, grandma, and sister, I knew breast cancer would be in my future at some point. I decided enough was enough. I couldn’t handle the anxiety of doctor’s appointments on top of how expensive everything was beginning to be…and this was the first year of surveillance! I decided if I was going to lose my breasts, it would be on my terms, not cancer’s.
I had my prophylactic bilateral mastectomy (PBM) September 10, 2014. Making the decision to have the surgery was extremely difficult, but yet, easy. I can’t tell you how many nights I cried myself to sleep, but with the knowledge I faced, the decision was a no-brainer. I wasn’t going to walk around with ticking time bombs or wonder when my body would turn against me. I poured over research, talked to other women who were BRCA1, read blog after blog, emailed several ladies from the blogs, and reached out to those with cancer. I’m very analytical and weighed all my options. I made a pros and cons sheet for the surgery. I made the best decision for me.
From the time I got the call saying BRCA+ to making a decision on surgery it was only a matter of a few weeks. I knew in the back of my mind, surgery was the only way to go (and I knew that when I met with the genetic counselor).
I knew the surgery would be hard, both physically and emotionally. But, if I heard the words you have cancer down the road, I could only be mad and upset with myself. My decision boiled down to three things: being told I would be Sarah in a few years, statistics, and my health right now. Doing the surgery earlier in life, while being young, single and healthy, would make the recovery process somewhat easier (and boy has it made a difference).
I’ve been extremely blessed to have a great deal of support from friends and family. But, I’m also aware not everyone agrees with my decisions. I’ve had some people say some awful things to me and even lost a few friends over it. I’ve felt judged and I would be lying if I said my feelings weren’t hurt from time to time. One guy friend went as far as saying, “I would NEVER date a girl with fake boobs.” One lady looked at me and said, “Well, you get a free boob job and can choose your size now.” Actually, I’m paying thousands of dollars to meet with doctors/surgeons, have tests done…how is this a free boob job? Another person told me they were just boobs and could be replaced. Be replaced? Replaced with fake boob, be carved out like a pumpkin, lose feelings in both breasts and never be able to breastfeed my child should I have one. Oh, and never be able to feel my child/newborn lying on my chest. That’s right, they’re just boobs. Yes, but they’re MY breasts. Another told me I was being ridiculous and only making this decision out of fear. Fear? Perhaps fear played a little part. But don’t tell me you wouldn’t make the decision if your sister was going through hell and you very well could be in that situation in a few short years (to which I was told by numerous doctors that would be me…oh, yes, keep reading. I’ll get into that, too)
No one wants to get cancer.
No one wants to watch a loved one go through anything that could go wrong – go wrong with chemo and biopsies. No one wants to lose their breasts and ovaries.
I loved my breasts. In fact, it was the one thing I absolutely loved about my body. They were perfect because they were mine. It was an easy decision to do the surgery, but not an easy decision to part with my feminine body parts. How would I explain my lack of boobs to people? Would I be insecure after surgery not having any? (to which I can honestly say now that I am NOT insecure with not having any).
I have grown so much since March when my sister was diagnosed and May when I received the BRCA1+ news. Even though I don’t have breasts right now and have rocks in my chest (expanders), I feel more beautiful, more comfortable with life, more confident, and definitely more feminine. As someone told me a few months ago, “being empowered is a wonderful thing and having peace of mind is priceless.” Knowledge is power. Power to take control and control the outcome.
Well, what about ovarian cancer?
I am choosing to do active surveillance. I am not comfortable or ready to do an oophorectomy or hysterectomy. I am single and don’t have any kids. I would like to get married and maybe have kids of my own, but if that doesn’t happen I’m okay with that too. I will make a decision on a hysterectomy by age 32. 35 is the standard age to consider removing, but why wait when I know it already runs in the family. Until then, I will continue to be faithful to take care of my body and be active with screenings.
My advice for others affected by BRCA1+ is to listen to medical professionals but to do your own research.
I spent hours and months researching the gene to understand all the risks the gene mutation has. I understood the risks of complications and the potential for longer recovery. I also spent countless hours on the phone with doctors, surgeons and other women and listened to their opinions and first-hand stories. I was fully aware of everything and able to make an informed decision.
I made my decision and completely stand by it, nor do I regret it one bit! When my pathology report came back and there were atypical cells found in both breasts and a small lump in my right breast, a sense of relief and joy came rushing through my body. In my case, my cells were already beginning to mutate and change. Being BRCA1, my body allows the cells to grow, divide uncontrollably and eventually forming a tumor. They didn’t get to the point of growing outside the ductal and becoming a lump, but they were well on the way to becoming cancerous.
I made the right decision. Period.
People said I was crazy and extreme. Yep, they can think that, but I don’t believe it. I prevented cancer from taking control of me. I controlled the situation. I controlled the outcome. I’d rather be proactive than reactive.
The hardest part in this process has been the recovery. I woke up after surgery feeling like a MAC truck hit me. Or like I told my mom, “I feel like I have an elephant sitting on my chest just chilling out.” I’d like to think I have a pretty high pain tolerance (thanks to my 6 brothers). The pain hasn’t really been an issue. In fact, I haven’t had any pain meds for the past 5 days (score!). The downtime has me pulling my hair out. I’m a very active person and don’t like sitting still. I’m always on the go and being told I cannot do something is quite frustrating. I just want to put my hair in a ponytail. I’ve had my moments, but I feel I’ve stayed pretty positive this whole time and haven’t complained.
I’m three weeks out, feeling amazing, loving my mosquito bites…but extremely antsy. I’m feisty and ready to get back into my normal. I miss running, biking, strength training, and swimming…wait, did I say swimming?!? I’m going to be going back to work for a few hours here and there throughout the week. I’m not quite ready for an 8-hour, 40-hour work week. I don’t want to rush things and end up a few steps back. I’m learning patience.
Through the struggles, I have learned much about myself, my body and my mind. I did this! I will get through it. I am alive, breathing and healthy. Nothing can stop me now!
I am extremely lucky to have this knowledge that my Grandma didn’t have. I’m lucky to have the choice to be a Previvor instead of a Survivor. I don’t have to worry about the 87% hereditary risk of getting breast cancer. I don’t have to worry about future mammograms/MRI’s or worry about my ticking time bombs.
Knowledge is Power.
So, let me ask you, if you knew your car had faulty brakes, would you still get it in and drive it around?
If you knew you had the BRCA gene mutation, how far would YOU go to avoid breast/ovarian cancer?
PS: Today is National Previvor Day and kicks off Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I’m going to celebrate being a Previvor with a nap and a nice dinner out…Mosquito bites and all…