What do you think?

This morning around 10ish I received a call from Dr. Brooks, the geneticist on the “boob board,” with my BRCA 1/BRCA 2 genetic testing.  (Remember, this is the genetic study that checked “me” not “my tumor.”  Drum roll please……Genetically, I’m gold.  (Well, in the area of breast and/or ovarian cancer anyway.)  This means I’m not predisposed to “grow” tumors.  I do NOT have the BRCA1/BRCA 2 mutation!  Yay, I thought.  However, my geneticist reminded me of what I realized last week.  This is good news for Mary Clare and McCanless.  (I can’t pass along a faulty gene if I don’t have it.)  But, it leaves the unanswered question:  Why?  Why in the world does a healthy 34 year old, with no family history or crazy mutated gene have breast cancer?   I think this is what kills these doctors, oncologists, geneticists, surgeons.  They can’t explain it.  There is no reason.  I just have it.

I swear I’m buying a lottery ticket tomorrow.

Then around 2:00, Dr. Sweatman called. (On his vacation week, I might add, yet still called me, himself.)  I so love this man.  Rephrase, I have so grown to love this man.  He said my Oncotype DX results were in.  (Remember, this is the study of the biological activity of my actual tumor.  The tumor was given a score between 0 and 100 that correlates with the likelihood of a my chances of having my cancer return, and the likelihood that I will benefit from adding chemo to the treatment plan.)

I was sitting on the bench under the front breezeway at THA, my second home, watching parents eagerly walk in to gather their babies or stop by the office to chat with congregating mama hens.  Where I’ve taught, worked, loved for as long as I’ve been married.  Students watched me learn to be a better teacher, grow huge with the pregnancies of my own two baby girls.  The place where I remember parading through the high school halls in a huge homemade Jack-O-lantern costume on Halloween as a third grader, loving art class because I sat beside my best friend, Cyndi Hill, as a new kindergartener.  The school that simply adores Mary Clare and gathered to pray all decked out in pink on March 30, 2011.  So many memories in this little school.

You know how you just know?  The sound of someone’s voice is such a tell-all.  I know I’m not the first person he’s had to give these type of results to before.  I may be the one millionth for all I know.  But, I think it’s just human insight to know.  To feel it.  We can all read between the lines, between the words.  As he began to tell me what I feared most, my mind wasn’t on the specifics of numbers, oncologist information or well-wishes, it was in a state of shock.  I think it took my brain a few minutes to digest it all.  Did I really hear that?  Maybe I’m misunderstanding.

Dr. Sweatman was honest, straightforward and very reassuring.  He explained that my Oncotype DX results were not low (no benefits of having chemo) nor were they in the high range (straight to chemo).  I’m in the intermediate range, but given all of my results, thorough information and questionable onset, Dr. S feels chemo will be what is best.  Since chemotherapy it is, surgery will be postponed until after chemotherapy.  It’s likely that chemo will shrink the tumor making surgery less invasive.  Fingers crossed.  He referred me to Dr. Butler in Columbia with SC Oncology Associates, who is also on the boob board. Dr. Sweatman “warned me” that Dr. Butler isn’t a “warm and fuzzy” doctor.  He’s very honest and straightforward in his approach.  “Now, don’t be alarmed,” which was all hysterical coming from Dr. S, when so many others “warned” me the same about him.  It was nice little jewel, this inside joke.  It made me laugh when I so wanted to cry.

Originally, he scheduled a surgery date of September 7.  I didn’t “pen-in” this date because I knew it could change.  It was a tentative date of a lumpectomy.  I would have had my lumpectomy followed by radiation treatment.  That would have been the best case scenario.  But, just like I always tell Mary Clare, “you can’t always get what you want.”  So, September 7 surgery date has been swiped.

Mel and I will head to our favorite capital city tomorrow morning to meet the man who will juice me up with a cancer cocktail plan.  I have the utmost respect for Dr. Sweatman and I just feel that what he is doing is exactly what I need.  He said Dr. Butler is the best, so I’m going with that, non-fuzzy and all. Hopefully, we’ll have Chemo 101, get a time frame and schedule and possibly a ball park idea of a new surgery date.

Not what I was hoping, but after a quick and very therapeutic three minute cry with a few friends at THA, (Dr. S called just as I was heading into carpool) and a few laughs about a pink wig and sign-up sheet for those who wanted to drive me to treatments, I realize God has given me all I need to get through this:  lots of laughter and tons of love.

At 3:00,  I made another realization.  I had four giggly girls staring at me who needed to get changed and rushed through homework so I could haul them to dance by 4:00!  Dance, Mexican, Wal-Mart run (sans girls-once Mel came home from a late meeting) and I’m home.  Life as usual carries on.  This will not keep me down.  I’ve had my three minute cry and I’m done.

Tonight, I’m bracing myself for my non- fuzzy oncologist, Dr. Butler.

I’m ready.

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