I never expected anyone to pay attention to my little blog (again, it's therapy- but thank you for reading and following it) and I really didn't expect the amount of community support that came with it. People checked in on me, made our little family dinner, dropped off milk, offered my kids fun days, and sent me messages via Facebook, texts, and phone calls. I even got a handful of beautiful cards from friends and family; near and far. Friends and neighbors dropped off surprise flowers, homemade cookies and breads, mochas, and even prosecco. I loved the sweet intentions that went with each one, but more importantly I appreciated the time that people took to even think of us during their busy days, let alone to drop something off. From the bottom of my heart (and the four others in my home), thank you. Even though it doesn't seem like enough.
In 2008 I was told that I am a BRCA-2 carrier, which means that I have a gene mutation which significantly increases my risk of breast, ovarian, and a few other cancers. Most doctors recommend the removal of ovaries and a preventative double mastectomy with reconstruction of the breasts. However, we were told to finish having children and then wait a few more years before scheduling any of the major surgeries. I was on target to start preventive surgical care in the next few years when a tiny tumor appeared in my last breast MRI. Lucky for me, it was benign and not an issue. However, it caused me to speed up my decision making and start looking at a calendar, pronto. These breasts are ticking-time-boobs and they need to go! As nervous as I feel right now, it's nothing compared to what I could feel if I ended up with a breast cancer diagnosis because I procrastinated when I could have done something.
My kids have not even been out of school a full week yet and they are already bored, fighting, and expecting big plans daily. There was a time when I wanted to schedule "fun" things for them everyday or at least a few times a week. Then last year we made an End of Summer Bucket…
I hate that the color pink reminds me of my mom's battles with breast cancer and the struggle that other women I know have endured due to the disease. It is also a time for me to reflect on my own breast health. As I have mentioned before I am a BRCA gene mutation carrier. My boobs or ovaries could theoretically kill me someday. I have to deal with this fact EVERYDAY, not just in October. Plus, this Pinktober brought on some new challenges for me.