Appointment Update

I met with the oncological geneticist today. She's the same one that did my BRAC testing two years ago. We talked at length about the recommendations of the two OB/GYNs I saw, and my risk for cancer.

Essentially, the geneticist said that my risk for cancer is only slightly higher than the risk for the general population. But, when I started describing to her the way I felt about possibly getting cancer, she immediately saw red flags. We discussed my anxiety about the situation and she explained that, while I had been diagnosed with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) it was quite likely that I actually suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
After I sobbed hysterically while repeating "I just can't do that to him" over and over again for about half an hour, she told me that we would do whatever we could to get rid of this elevated risk. I went for my first mammogram and am going to see a surgeon later in the month.

I'll write more concerning this topic later. For now, I've just dropped my baby off for his first night out of my sight since we left the hospital, and I am going a little crazy. I think I need a hot bath and a cold drink.

My Reason to Fight

This is Jack. He is my beautiful, wonderful, unexpected 8 week old reason for fighting.

When I originally found out about my high risk status, I was told that I shouldn't make any major preventive moves until I'd had children. Of course, I was 18 at the time, and knew that I wouldn't plan on having children until many years into the future. I didn't think about the fact that my plan might not match up with reality.

Bun and I found out about our surprise pregnancy (NuvaRing fail) on August 8th, 2009. I was already most of the way through the first trimester, and we had just moved from our hometown to San Marcos, Tx, in order to live with my best friend and allow me to attend graduate school. Needless to say, we were shocked. But even more than that, we were scared. There was so much about parenting and raising a child that we didn't, and still don't, know.

As we've gone through this process together, from the day I got my big fat positive test to the day I was wheeled into the OR to have both my gallbladder and my son removed at 37 weeks pregnant, we've become so much closer. We're a family. No, we're not married, but Jack cements our bond in a way that a piece of paper never could. We always want to do what is best for him.

Which is why, before I turn 24, I plan to have a preventive double mastectomy and oopherectomy. It's scary, and shocking, but it's what is best.

...I just wish I could stop thinking about "What if?".