Genes.

I have this favorite pair of Jeans.  They don't ride too high, or too low.  They fit just right in all the right places.  They are comfortable and well worn in.  I love my Jeans, they are always there for me - like an old friend - and they've never failed me.  Not once.

When it comes to my genes - I too feel like I inherited a healthy mixture of both mom and dad which have made me who I am today, unique and undeniably me.  I get my eye color from my mother, but passed a blue eye recessive gene to my daughters.  My height comes from both my parents (and to call it height really is a laughable understatement - thanks guys.) My hair color, skin tone, and crooked bump on my left ear - they can all be explained by genetics.  And, they can all be seen in my children as well.

Genes are a funny thing.  Just like my favorite pair of levis, they can bring comfort in knowing who you are and where you came from.  Genes can explain the unexplainable.  In some cases Genes can give you a window into a possible future.

Back when I discovered Lumpy and Lumpy Jr. I was asked if I wanted to undergo genetic testing to find out if I carried what is called the BRCA1 and or BRCA2 gene mutations. I thought about it at the time, but considering that Lumpy and Lumpy Jr. were benign I pushed the genetics to the back of my head to be ignored until a later date.  (I know, I'm kind of good at that kind of stuff though - if it weren't for procrastination, I'd get nothing done...until tomorrow.)  It's because of procrastination that I put off my mammogram follow up that the doctor kept sending me nagging letters about.  It's because of genetics that I finally went in. 

You already know that my sister is a survivor - what you don't know is that both of my maternal great grandmothers battled and lost this fight.  My cousin (maternal side as well) is a survivor.  My mother has had a scare or two.  So, when my doctor brought up the genetic testing a second time (once I finally went in for that mammogram a few weeks ago - and they found another cause for suspicion) I didn't think twice.  It probably also helped that she didn't give me much of a choice and had the nurse there to draw blood right then and there.

I don't have the results yet.  I was going to wait until I did to write this post, but I've been thinking and researching and trying to plot my next move.  You see, if I have the BRCA gene, then that changes the game completely.  Does having the gene mean I am absolutely going to develop breast cancer?  No, it doesn't at all.  In fact NOT having it does not mean I'm completely safe from this horrid disease.  However, if I do have it, then there is no question as to what to do next.  All I have to do is look at my five beautiful little children and know that if I do something pre-emptively I significantly reduce my chances of having to fight this later on.

I don't like tests. I have never been a fan of tests I can't study for.  I've already said  I'm not a wait and see person - so this waiting is driving me crazy.  But, as a mother, my instinct is to protect my young.  I will do whatever it takes.  And knowing will help me do that, and prepare them for their futures as well - four of my children are girls.

I get my eye color from my mother.  My height from my father and my mother.  I have some musical abilities passed down from my grandparents to my parents to me.  I've shared these traits with my children and see it in them every time I look at them or hear them speak.  These genes were all traits that I was happy to wait and see if they developed.  BRCA is not one of those.  Like I said, I'm not a wait and see person.

Follow UP

I got a letter today from my GYN.

Normally I find fun little bills in these envelopes, and I opened it with some hesitation – my little trip to dreamland with Doc. Smith wasn’t exactly cheap, and I was pretty sure this envelope contained a reminder of that visit.

It didn’t.

It was another reminder.

It’s been six months, and I’m supposed to go have another exciting trip to mamography land.

Yay me.

Two things:

1) I know there is nothing there, I’m going to be fine and that this is simply a routine test.

2) I’m scared to death.

It’s likely because I don’t exactly enjoy the whole squishing what’s left of my lady parts in between two very hard, very cold and very out in the open pieces of plastic.  It could also be because of that second little surprise we’ve been keeping our eye on since the surgery.

Either way, I suppose I better make the appointment.  This is the second letter I’ve received about it (or at least that’s what the letter says, I honestly don’t remember the first.)

Here we go.

Happy Birthday Mac!

I haven’t posted here for a while which means one thing – there isn’t any news to report.  Which is totally awesome.

However - Today is my sister’s 43rd birthday.

That’s right, the sister that I said I have always looked up to, loved and supported no matter what.  (I’m the youngest – so that really could describe any one of my sisters…but this time I’m talking about Mac.)

I called her this morning.  We had a great chat, like we always do – and the topic came around to what she wanted for her birthday.  She directed me to her Facebook page where I found this post (after searching through all the millions of Happy Birthday messages…sheesh!  I had no idea my sister was that popular!):

I'm sure that most of you have noticed that your favorite football teams
have been wearing my favorite color pink! I would like to think that
they were doing it for me and in a way they are! This month is breast
cancer awareness month!

I urge each and every one of you to force your female loved ones to do monthly exams and if they are over 40 to have yearly mammogram! Today is my 43rd birthday and I am so grateful that I'm here to hear all of the "over the hill" jokes! The last 2 years I have been cancer free! I am going to ask one more thing of you all… sometime this month wear PINK and buy something with a pink ribbon on it! Support all the brave women that are fighting this crappy disease!

I had to post this here.  Two reasons – she’s a survivor, and even though my lumpy and lumpy jr. were benign – I am too.  So – I promise this, sis – I will wear Pink, I will buy a Pink Ribbon product, and I will always – ALWAYS support all the brave women that are fighting this crappy disease, as well as those who looked it in the eye and said, NOT ME…NOT THIS TIME…I’m going to SURVIVE this thing…and did.

I love you Mac!  Here’s to at least 43 more awesome years!

Post Op

Okay, just because my lima bean was benign doesn’t mean that is the end of this blog.

Together. We. Can. Make. A. Difference.

Besides, I’m sure you want to hear all about my exciting post op appointment with Doc Smith.

You do?

Well then what am I waiting for?

First things first – when I originally saw Doc Smith at the hospital I told him that I had planned to make him a Bears (DA Bears!) scrub cap for luck – but unfortunately I couldn’t find a good pattern for boy doctor hats (I found lots of girl doctor hats – bouffant and other styles, but nothing suitable for a boy doctor…)  Anyway, he was disappointed.  He said if I made one he’d totally wear it.

Don’t ever tell me I have free reign to do a craft.

Of course I found a pattern and made him one which I delivered at my post op appointment.

He liked it.  He liked it a lot.

(And if he didn’t he played it off really really well…)

Anyway – first thing Doc said to me…

“How did you like the artwork I left you?”

Seriously, this doctor is hilarious.

Once the pleasantries were exchanged he looked at the incision and decided it was healing very nicely.

“Nobody will ever even see the scar.”

You bet they won’t!!! (not even if you ask nicely…sorry guys.)

So, mammogram in 6 months for follow up…and – a lump check in four weeks.

You got it, they found another one.  But no worries, according to Doc Smith, it feels totally benign and this one we will just watch and see.

But if it starts to bother me call him and we’ll take a closer look sooner.

Deal.

Benign.

That’s right.

After some serious prodding by my sister – I decided to call Doc Smith and talk to my second favorite nurse, Dee. 

The exact words were that “The pathology results came back and they looked absolutely perfect.”

I still have a surgical follow up in a few days and will continue to monitor the “area.” I know better than to let that go for too long – at least I do now.

I know it’s weird, but I didn’t instantly feel relieved.  I’m still sort of in a haze with all of this.

BUT

It’s benign.  I’m happy.  My husband is happy.  My family is happy.  We can move on.

Period.

A Coin Flip.

There’s a reason I never liked to gamble. 

Part of it is because of the whole I don’t do that kind of thing – thing…but the other part is I’m kindof a control freak.  I don’t like to play games that I can’t have some minor control over the situation.

That’s why I’ve never liked “Heads or Tails” to make a decision.  It’s always left up to luck.  I don’t like luck.  I can’t control it.

Doc Smith called yesterday, and since he didn’t get a chance to talk to Ammon he wanted to let us know his impressions of Lumpy and Lumpy Jr.
 
“It’s a coin flip.”

Those are his exact words.  He went on to explain he didn’t feel comfortable saying they were or were not.  He simply had no feeling either way.

Okay, so heads they are sinister twins, tails annoying neighbors.  We have to wait for full pathology.

Time will tell.

I call tails.

Removal

Well, it’s gone.  Little lumpy is no longer a part of my body or my life.

And I’m not the slightest bit sad about it.

Yesterday started out pretty normal – with the exception of the fact that Ammon was home on a weekday – which is always nice.  I had to be to the hospital by 9:30 AM for check in and the surgery was scheduled at 11:30.  I had no idea why there was a 2 hour check in time – seemed a little odd to me, but whatever.  I later found out that they had over 80 people on their schedule for that day – well not my doc, but the entire hospital.  That’s super crazy. (according to my Nurse Estelle anyway).

When we got there they handed us one of those restaurant waiting pagers.  You know the ones you get at places like The Outback and The Cheesecake Factory – the little black square that lights up red when your table is ready?  Ammon and I thought this was clever, but cruel.  I mean, I am not allowed to eat ANYTHING, and now the only thing I’m thinking about is an awesome blossom  and a slice of cheesecake.  Sort of a Pavlovs Dogs response to the pager I think.  At any rate, we sat down and about ten minutes later it went off and I got to go fill out paperwork.

Love the paperwork…and the fact that I had to fill the same paperwork about five times before they actually put me under.  I suppose they want to make sure I give the same answers…

Pre-op prep went quickly.  I had four nurses who were absolutely amazing, hilarious – and oddly enough, shared my same love and complete devotion for Target Stores.  (Who doesn’t???)

Doc came in and signed my boob – because apparently they didn’t want to forget which one – located the lump and circled it…then located a second lump and circled it too…yep a second lump, right next to the first.  Lumpy and Lumpy Jr.  Fabulous. 

The doctor and nurses make me take out my contact lenses, start an IV and the Anesthesiologist comes in and takes a look down my throat.  (Later we realized this should have been a clue that I’d have breathing tube shoved down there…but it wasn’t readily apparent to either my husband or I that this was the case.)

They finally come in to take me away (ha ha ho ho) and we’re off.  I meet up with the surgeon (Doc. Smith) and the anesthesiologist in the OR with Estelle, my fabulous nurse.  Doc Smith waves at me from across the room.  I inform him that I am no longer blessed with the gift of sight and he’s going to have to make bigger movements than that.  Next think I know, he’s two inches from my face with his eyes bugged out of his face saying “Is that better?”  I respond “Much – thank you.”  Have I told you how good this doc is at putting me at ease???

They start to give me oxygen, make me recite my full name, doc’s name and surgery type…and then let me know that they are going to give me something to relax (because I’m obviously so stressed out as indicated by the constant jokes being thrown around and laughter…and it wasn’t just me)  At this point they start to read back my paperwork - “You are allergic to chocolate and Morphine”  I tell them that is correct …  Doc then asks - “anything else?”  Yes, as a matter of fact, Stupid People.  At this point doc turns around and changes the song that’s playing on his CD…”Everybody Knows, That The World is Full Of Stupid People” by the Refreshments.  I am sooo in love with this Doc – awesome tunes, and A Bears fan.  Then anesthesia doc tells me that they are going to give me the medication that will make me sleep – he says “It’s gonna burn in the hand a bit…” 

K, here’s where I tell you I went to a few years of nursing school.  Part of this was anatomy classes.  What happened next was not a burning sensation in my hand – rather my face.  It was on fire.  Seriously – like when you burn yourself on the heating element in the oven or by touching a hot pan and then a few hours later expose said burn to hot water…that kind of sensation.  I opened my mouth to tell him it wasn’t my hand that was burning – and that’s the last thing I remember until waking up in recovery – two and one half hours later.

I remember the nurses talking back and forth – apparently they couldn’t find my husband…they called his cell phone and he was in the waiting room – but it was the wrong one.  There are apparently two waiting rooms, and the one he was in (you know, the one closest to the OR) wasn’t the correct one.  Doc Smith went looking for him, but couldn’t find him – so he never actually spoke to the Doc.  All we know at this point is that I woke up, and he took me home.  Not even any care instructions for the wound – nothin’.  Nada. Zilch.  So we are left to our own devices.  Luckily we have a good deal of common sense.

The paperwork we DID get does say that I can shower in T days…whatever that means.  I’m thinking it means I can shower on days that start with T…so today is Thursday, I’m going with that.  The hospital promised to call today and follow up with me.  And with the kind of doc that Doc Smith is, I’m pretty sure that since he didn’t get to talk to Ammon he’ll probably call as well- or at least have my second favorite nurse Dee call.  I also expect  a call from my favorite nurse Jan.  I expect to be pretty popular today.

We should have results in the next few days on whether Lumpy and Lumpy Jr. are sinister twins or simply annoying neighbors.  We’re still going with the mantra – It’s going to be benign.  Period.