Surgery

So I have debated putting this out there.  Part of me feels like this is so private and personal,  but there is this nagging that this may help someone.  That there is by chance one person that hears about this and in hearing it takes a step that may change their future.

I know this sounds crazy, but I have always had this feeling that I wouldn't live that long.  I am not mad or really even that saddened by it.  Can't really even explain it.  Just call it intuition.  Weird and sounds morbid.  But it shouldn't because it hasn't really ever scared me just a feeling.  I will occasionally tell my husband something that I want at my funeral.  Like a song I want or something.  He is so mild mannered, I have never doubted that he will out live me.

I think part of it is that I am comfortable with death.  I know WHO holds my future.  And I guess, seeing my mom pass away while I was young made a profound impact.  Her grace and toughness was laced with such a peace, it just made it seem not so scary. True peace that passes understanding.

As the last 5 years have flown by, life doesn't slow down a bit.  Well, I have been blessed beyond measure in the last 5 years.  It wasn't easy for us to become parents.  A horrible struggle to say the very least.  Infertility is a horrible, awful, gut wrenching thing that no one talks about.  That is a story all of it's own. One that I will openly share with anyone.  Because it is lonely.  But out of that awful struggle, came the most beautiful baby boy.  All the tests, shots, ultrasounds, and exams were worth it a million times over for this little guy.  He looks like his daddy with the exception of he brilliant, blue eyes and the awful cow-lick at the front of his hairline. Those come from my side of the family.  His heart is pure gold.

Once he was here everything changed.  My heart grew larger and than I even knew was possible.  There was this responsibility that I had never felt before.  Time became that much more precious to me.  I wanted that time with him.  I have always known time is something you can't make more of.  But savoring moments became that much more precious with him here.  Two years flew by and he grew.  He has always been the strong- silent type.  He was busy climbing things and pulling things out of drawers and not forgetting a single thing!

Our struggle to have more children continued.  More shots and failed IVF attempts. But my heart knew Asher needed a sibling.  We got our foster/adoption license.  Not really sure that was the direction we wanted to go, but just did it.  A good friend said, "If you don't walk, God can't direct your path." So we went through the class and just "walked".  Well direct our path He did.  Received a call one August night at about 9:30pm and had our Siri in my arms the next day at 3pm.  Craziest, yet most rewarding thing I have ever done.  No doubt.

Adoption changed my life and my heart in a way nothing else could.  It taught me so much about love.  It taught me that love truly has no limits and blood means very little.  Again, it in it's self is a whole story.  But after having Asher, I didn't think my heart could possibly grow anymore, but it did.  Life with Siri is a party.  She lives big and passionately. Her gorgeous, brown eyes and long eye lashes will just draw you in and keep you guessing.

Things were just settling down after getting Siri and working through the adoption process, when we were blessed with another surprise.  I was pregnant.  I honestly, took an expired pregnancy test one day because I was feeling chubby.  I had in my life time taken probably two dozen pregnancy tests, just hoping they would be positive.  Well, this day, Asher who was 2 and Siri 8 months old were both napping.  And I just thought why not?  I have an old one in the cupboard.  You can only imagine my surprise when it instantly went to positive.  Couldn't even call my husband.  I didn't think he would believe me. I was a good 8 weeks along already.

Well, two days after Christmas our Shai Noelle was born.  She arrived on her daddy's birthday.  Just the happiest baby ever.  Content in everyway.  Truly.  She slept really quite well and was a good eater and just enjoyed the chaos of her brother and sister running around and dragging her along.  As she grows, we get to see her silly self.  She loves to laugh, and her hair in the mornings when she wakes up is seriously a sight to behold.  Seriously the blonde wavy, curls are all over her face or sticking straight up in the back.  Most darling thing ever.  My heart had now more than tripled.

So, I had to give you the back story.  Because it's important.  It's the most important.  This year I decided I needed to very serious with my doctor.  I hadn't had a mammogram since before I was pregnant with Asher.  Time had just flown by and doctors didn't seem too terribly worried.  I was healthy.  I had either been pregnant or nursing a baby for large chunks of time in the last 5 years, so I decided I needed to make sure that my doctor was on the same page.  I wanted an MRI.   You see my mom was diagnosed at 36 with breast cancer.  I was 9 and my brother was 5. She passed away a couple weeks after I turned 15 years old.  Her mom, my grandmother, I never met.  She passes away when my mom was 18, I think.  My mom didn't talk much about her.  Only thing I really remember her saying was that she was sick a lot and apparently breast cancer was the cause.

Well, after talking about an MRI.  My doctor said that she wanted me to go to Iowa City and meet with a geneticist before referring my for any testing.  I agreed.  Well, I met with a very kind, young geneticist that told me nothing surprising.  My chance for breast and ovarian cancer is very high.  She recommended that get the BRCA test.  It looks for mutated genes that lead to extremely high risks of breast and ovarian cancer.  After speaking with her, we knew that we wanted to go ahead with the testing.  Knowledge is power, right? At least, I kept telling myself that.  Of course, she said the results would take about 2 weeks and sometimes they come back faster.  Well, I will admit that this was probably the hardest time for me.  The not knowing.  The waiting.  The knowing that after talking with her, she was concerned for me.  Well, 2 weeks came and went.  The phone rang, I jumped.  Nothing.  My results took 3 and half weeks to get back.  Long and awful weeks.  I hadn't expected to be so anxious for the results.

This kind geneticist called me as I walked into teach a fitness class.  I ignored the call.  I couldn't find out on my way into that.  So called her back after class.  She told me I was BRCA1 positive.  Positive meaning I have the mutation.  For some reason, I was extremely calm as we spoke.  The knowing seemed better.  As I sat in the parking lot at the Rec Center, I listened and attempted to process what it all meant.  What it meant for me, my kids, and my brother.  I don't think I cried.  Hung up and drove home.  Told my husband and held it together for most of the evening before losing it.

This whole thing has brought up more memories of my Mom and her battle than I could have expected.  I have memories of her and chemo and her and her mastectomy and the radiation that have been tucked away. I knew she was in pain, but she put her brave face on around us.    I rarely think of the hard times when I think of her.  For which I am beyond thankful.   I now am a mother myself and it makes my heart hurt, beyond hurt to think of her having to hear the word cancer and look at my brother and I everyday knowing she was terminal.  I could hardly look at my kids for days without getting teary-eyed and they hadn't even found a cancer cell in my body.  No idea how she did it.  You want to be there for your kids.  Period.  I hurt for her.  I hurt for my kids thinking they may travel the same road I did.  It doesn't really bother me, but I grew up fast and independently.

The month that followed was filled with research.  I scheduled appointments with OB-GYN, breast health surgeons, and plastic surgeons.  I wanted all information I could find.  My husband also read everything he could get his hands on.  With my mom being diagnosed so young and her mother also, we were told by my new oncologist.  Yes, I have an Oncologist.  Not something you expect as a 34 year old.  She was very, very kind.  In fact, apologized repeatedly for my mutated gene- I had to tell her to stop being sorry- it wasn't her fault.

She was very, very clear that BRCA1 mutations aren't a joke.  My chance at cancer in my life-time by all charts is something like 80 plus percent.  In her professional opinion, that underestimated my risk.  Based on family history, the cancer appears to hit young and aggressively.  I had two options.  Monitor closely both breasts and ovaries.  Like 6 month appointments with mammograms and MRI's and 3 month appointments with vaginal ultrasounds and blood work.  With this option we were waiting for cancer to appear and catch it early.  OR bilateral preventative mastectomy and oophorectomy (removal of my ovaries).  With this option my chances of cancer go way down.  Almost to a "normal" person. This quite possibly saves me from the depths of chemo and radiation, which with a diagnosis will probably be a must even if we catch it early.

I struggled and struggled with the decision.  As you can read from my previous post.  I cried wanting a crystal ball.  I just wanted 2 more years guaranteed with no cancer.  So my kids could get a bit bigger and walk and not need to be carried or picked up quite so much.  Just a couple more cancer free years and they would be at school more.  Not at home watching me in pain.  The oncologist and all the surgeons agreed it would be nice to wait, but the time to do the surgery is when all the scans are clean.  Avoiding chemo and staying cancer free was the goal.  Let me say that this was a personal decision.  Many people would choose differently.  Everyone feels differently.  Everyone I told had their own opinions.  Which they are entitled to.  Based on all the information and my experiences it seemed that my decision was pretty clear.  So here goes.

Scheduled surgery.  10 days away.  Scared yes.  But confident in my decision.  I want to see my gorgeous children graduate.  I want to see them get married.  Shop for wedding dresses.  Stare into the eyes of my grandchildren.  All things my mother never got to do.  So throwing my fear aside (sometimes) and holding on to an attitude of gratefulness.  Grateful for the technology that allows me the knowledge the this gene exists and the power to do something to give myself a fighting chance at avoiding the pain I watched my mom go through.

The unknown is the scariest part.  No one can tell you what recovery will look like.  It's different for everyone.  Some are down for months and live on pain meds.  Some are up and about in two weeks.  I expect two weeks of major pain.  I pray my two year old understands why I can't pick her up and that my 3 year old walks herself into timeouts-ya right.  My sweet 5 year old cries when I cry, so I will be wearing my bravest face for him.  The reconstruction part takes time.  Months most likely.  They seem to think that they can hide the scars and make me look womanish again (probably more womanish than I am currently).  I have been told you get used to the lack of feeling in your chest area.  Most of the women I have talked to that have experienced this are completely numb in the chest are permanently.  It will be a struggle to get strength back in my chest area.  So much for being able to do 50 push ups on my toes!  Back to square one!

I know the reality is that there is a reason the Lord has put me in this position.  He seems to prune me a lot (literally this time).  Heard a great sermon once on how vines that are pruned produce the best fruit.  I am praying that the fruit comes after the pruning.  Until then I will rest in my Fortress.

I make it occasionally to a mom's group at our church.  It's filled with wisdom from others who have done motherhood and came out alive.  ;)  We had a speaker last week.  She read this verse repeatedly.  We closed our eyes and let it soak in.  She asked us to let the words speak to us and hold onto the words the meant something.  Here is the verse...
Psalms 62:5-8
5 Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him. 6 He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. 7 My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge. 8 Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge. "Selah"

I have a Fortress that will give me rest.  I will trust him in this valley.  I hope if you are reading this you find peace in these words.  I plan to cling tightly to them in the days and weeks to come.  When I cannot hold a book because it hurts too bad, I will cling to my Rock.  And if I don't, remind me.  I have a God that loves me in my pain, with my scars, even when I cannot shower.  Dreading the not showering while the drains are in!  Yucko.

Praying that I come out of this pruned and producing beautiful fruit.  Rested and strong.  Thank you for listening.  My largest reason for putting this out there is that I thought it may help someone.  I am grateful for the knowledge I gained by this genetic test.  It has given me the opportunity to make the first move on my terms.  Cancer is an ugly word and I am grateful that I can avoid having to use it right now.

If you are the praying type, please pray for my family.  Pray for Asher that he can be brave and not worried. Pray for Siri that she can understand why mommy can't pick her up and that she can control her bounciness around me for a couple weeks.  Pray for Shai.  Pray for sweet, Shai that in her young mind she doesn't think I am ignoring her or neglecting her because I can't hold or pick her up.  Pray for RJ as he will be Mr. Mom for a couple weeks- pray for patience and energy.  Pray for all my friends and family as they have blessed me a thousand times over with kind words, meals, childcare, zip-up sports bras (you know you have good friends when they find and buy you zip up sports bras), and all kids of zip up clothes.

Thank you. Summer