Lightening the load

“Being brave isn’t the absence of fear. Being brave is having that fear but finding a way through it.” - Bear Grylls

Suited up to Snowshoe for a Cure!

As you may recall, I've been carrying an extra weight lately in the form of a great unknown: do I have a BRCA gene mutation? Or, are there other genes that were compromised and could have led to my cancer? From early February - when I took a genetic test to evaluate any possible connections between my genes and my breast cancer - until late last week when the results became available, I had this heaviness settling around me. I found it impossible to celebrate the disappearance of my lump, to look forward to completing chemotherapy at the end of March, or to shake a general feeling of fear.

To remind you, the genetic connection to breast cancer heightens one's chances of a cancer recurrence. Because of the risks, doctors recommend more extensive surgery than if there's no known genetic tie. In the case of a BRCA mutation, surgery entails a bilateral mastectomy (full removal of breasts) and taking out the ovaries. For weeks, I had nightmares and visions of losing these parts of myself entirely. I found myself in tears when thinking or talking about the possibility - I'd not realized just how much a part of my identity these mounds and eggs actually are. I determined that in order to protect myself from disappointment, I could not be hopeful. I prepared to hear that I was positive for a BRCA-1 or BRCA-2 mutation.

By last Thursday's appointment with the genetic counselor, I was a bonafide wreck. I cried before leaving the house, and when the medical assistant came out to the waiting room to bring us back for our appointment, my eyes welled up. The pressure was too significant for me to bear. So, when the doctor walked in, I was wiping away more tears.

"Oh... Kelly told me you were emotional," she said, referring to the medical assistant. "But, I have good news for you! You have no genetic links. All 40 genes we tested were negative."

In that moment, the immense weight and fear were released. I blurted out to the doctor how relieved I was to know my breasts would not be carted off in a medical waste bin (I'm so couth, aren't I?). I almost couldn't wait for the appointment to end before texting my family and closest friends with the news.

My comrades in stomping out cancer: Karen, Sean, Bob, me, Sacha,
Mark (aka Jasper), Sarah, and Kelsey. Not pictured, our cheerleader Sarah

Long story short, I feel like a new woman! My best friends Sarah and Sacha were here last weekend, and I was able to truly celebrate, unwind, and enjoy the company. They were able to come check out the cancer center and see part of my infusion. During our time together we participated in the Komen for Colorado Snowshoe for a Cure event in beautiful Frisco, and I threw myself into the awesome experience with friends new and old. Team #byeFelicia was a success and our matching hoodies were crowd favorites. We are so thankful to the many of you who supported us!

I've started feeling hopeful again. I have FOUR chemotherapy treatments remaining until they're complete, including the one I'm having as I write this. I'm scheduled to be finished on March 31, and my oncologist even gave me clearance to travel the week before that to the ACPA conference in Columbus, OH.

My next steps are the best case scenario... I get six weeks to recover from these chemo treatments, and maybe I'll start re-growing my hair! I will have a lumpectomy and lymph node dissection surgery in mid-May, followed a month later by six and a half weeks of radiation treatments (Five days a week for 15 minutes each time). Yes, this plan for kicking cancer to the curb will last another four to five months, but I can do it. I believe in myself again. I'm trying to trust my body.

And, I can't help it... I'm insanely grateful to keep my lady parts, scarred and battered though they may be. They may not be perfect, but at the very least they're still mine.