So I want to preface this post with a little background. I hate genetics. It was the one and only class in college I feared I would fail. I still remember to this day when I found out I got a C- as my final grade in the class. I was so relieved. I went sledding with Lorraine and others at Blue Mountain and got drunk. Relief that I wouldn’t have to sit through that course again learning about Mendel’s stupid white and red flowers. I think the fact was that I couldn’t learn something that I couldn’t really see or grasp was what was so complicated for me. I was a wildlife biologist, not a micro biologist. I liked big, furry, feathered or scaly things, not little items floating around in our bodies. However, genetics constantly keeps coming up in my career and life – like some cruel joke.
Okay, enough background on my hate of genetics. As I mentioned in an earlier post it was recommended that I have a genetic test to see if I carry a mutation making me more susceptible for cancer(s). After having spoken with my aunt and discovering more of my family history and the fact that she tested positive for BRCA1, I would’ve been shocked if I didn’t come back with the mutation. So suffice it to say, I didn’t have any shocks this week.
The genetic counselor was (is) great in explaining everything. What the results mean, what the risks are with (or without) this gene, what other patients of his have decided. I think what I liked about his “advice” (if you could even call it that, as it was more just information), was that I feel like he didn’t have a dog in the fight with what he was telling me. What do I mean by this? He’s not a surgeon so he isn’t pushing surgery. He’s not a radiation oncologist so he’s not pushing radiation. He’s not an oncologist so he’s not pushing treatment. I’m not saying any of those above doctors are bad, they are experts in their field and so therefor are giving the best advice based on their experiences, training and knowledge. However, I sometimes feel like I’m not being fed the other options. Which is where the genetic counselor comes in. So what did he tell me (and some of this I used my honorary Dr. Google degree to already discover, and others the abovementioned doctors had also told me)? Essentially because I have this gene, my odds of recurrence, or contracting a cancer (ovarian, breast – and not just the type I have, colon, skin) are greater than the general population that doesn’t have this gene. I asked specifically based on my current treatment that I’m undergoing, what is my risk of breast cancer occurring again compared to someone who is also undergoing similar treatment but doesn’t have the genetic anomaly. The numbers were shocking. Whereas the general population would be looking at like 2-5% I would be looking at 20%. Wow! The easiest decision I had was determination of having a hysterectomy (or at least the fallopian tubes and ovaries removed). Why? Because ovarian cancer is the most difficult to monitor for. So since I’m not using those parts, and I really don’t know any woman who is like “sweet, Aunt Flo is here again, I wish she would visit more often!” (unless of course she isn’t wanting a little bundle of joy and needs that monthly visitor to ensure nothing was growing in there). I am very comfortable going forward with that surgery (date TBD). However, the double mastectomy is a little bit more intimidating. That is where the above question came in, and where I still have a couple questions for the surgeon and oncologists. These question range from, what difference would surgery vs. broad scale radiation have? What is the recovery time from surgery? Can both surgeries be done at the same time? If I do surgery do I still have to do radiation? Every doctor’s appointment seems like it generates more questions!
But remember I told you above that the genetic counselor told me what other patients of his have decided. He has the camp that are in the belief that surgery is too invasive, that there might be better medicine coming around the corner in the near future, that monitoring religiously will capture anything early. I have known folks in this camp and I believe it works for them. But then there is the other camp – and this is where I started seeing myself. The camp that believes the stress of having to go in every 6 months for either an MRI or mammogram would have them worried that “this is the time” they’ll find cancer. That their body is just a ticking time bomb that will eventually go off. So as of this writing, I am leaning heavily towards getting rid of the double D bombs and getting new, perkier, smaller ones!
So genetics, the bad penny that just keeps turning up in my life. Nah, it isn’t that bad, better to know then not, right? Because if ignorance was bliss, more people would be happy.
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