It's a new day

It's a new day.

I wish I felt as positive as that statement would indicate. But I'm getting there. I've had some good sleep, good drugs, and as usual...I feel better the next day about whatever crisis is in my path.

So, had a tough chat with my medical oncologist yesterday. Even she admitted it was a hard discussion. Instead of the more positive and upbeat conversation I was hoping for, we had to talk about the downside of being triple negative for hormone receptors and positive for BRCA1. You would think triple negative would be a good thing. Not. And who knew a simple blood test to analyze my lousy genes would be so life changing?

Triple negative breast cancer means my offending tumor is negative for the three receptors that fuel most breast cancers. This type of cancer is extremely aggressive and more likely to recur and metastasize than other types of breast cancer. It's favorite hiding places include the brain and liver. The good news is that it responds very well to chemotherapy; but it has to be the really wicked type of chemo that kicks your ass to hell and back.

BRCA1 is a gene that produces a protein that increases a woman's risk of breast and ovarian cancer. In other words, I inherited my breast cancer. Thanks, Mom and Dad.

I don't entirely understand how these things converge to make me so special, but they do. My medical oncologist yesterday was very up front about the seriousness of the situation. My first thought was she was perhaps overstating the situation. But doctors aren't known for the dramatic and now I think she was simply trying to get me to listen to what she was saying. She succeeded.

Next steps:

1. Doc will put my unique situation before a conference of other breast cancer docs to gain a consensus on a treatment plan. That's like getting 3 or 4 or 5 second opinions. A good thing.

2. We'll do testing of my liver and heart to be sure they are up to the challenge of chemo. Guess I need to lay off the booze. :-)

My prediction: A kick-ass regime of chemo (once every 2 or 3 weeks for 6 or 8 sessions). A bi-lateral mastectomy and reconstruction. A lifetime of second guessing every little ache and pain - better known as the fear of recurrence.

The inference of yesterday's conversation is that I will likely die from cancer. Not from this cancer, and it will be well on down the road of life. But the odds are very good my cancer will show up in some other place - like an organ - and that will be fatal.

I don't mean to sound so fatalistic and negative. But I like knowing what to expect, even if it's 15 or 20 years from now. And of course, I could get hit by a bus tomorrow afternoon and defy all the odds. But it is what it is, and knowing what it is makes it easier to deal with.

I'm ok with it. What I'm not ok with is losing my hair and eyebrows. People without eyebrows look like freaks. Pass the makeup brushes...