Category Archives: After treatment

BRCA testing and genetics

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Treatment by

Sooo…today I did two things. One: tobogganed behind the house and slide into the school wall several times. (Does that make sense? There’s a school behind my house at the bottom of a hill. We slid down the hill. We slid into the school’s brick wall – our sleds were just that fast.) Two: went to the CHEO hospital in Ottawa and had a visit with a genetic consultant.

Let me tell you how it went.

Having braved the Canadian winter morning and arrived at the hospital, we headed up to level three and checked in. Apparently there was some blip with my health card, I have no idea what was wrong, but as the receptionist frowned at the screen I waited patiently. In my opinion when things go wrong, so long as I know I’m in the right, there’s really no reason to worry.

Eventually she fixed the problem. Something about the number being entered improperly.  And we were escorted into a small office.  In came the genetics consultant – a very pretty woman about my age, and so we had our meeting.

Q) She asked me who my doctor was and why they referred me.

A) My doctor is Dr Canada, and he referred me because he reckons I ought to be tested (see my Queen Victoria connection for the reason why).

Q) And having had no history of cancer in my family, why do I want to get tested?

A) So I know. Once I know, I will know. I get why people delay getting tested for the BRCA mutation when they’ve had it in their family . . . say you are told you have it, then what? Then you need to make some huge decisions. Personally, I’m in absolutely no rush to cut off any more body parts, but nevertheless, knowing one way or the other would be useful. I guess.

Q) Did I study biology?

A) Yeah . . . in highschool.

Zsolt was with me, holding my hand. He had also studied biology in high school. Therefore, everything seemed to make sense as the lovely consultant took out a binder and gave us a page-by-page presentation on how cells have chromosomes, and those chromosomes have two bits (like shoelaces have two bits that tie together) that spell out who we are and sometimes those genes can have a mutation. The more mutations, the worse off the cell . . . worse off, as in, cancerous.

Did you know that the BRCA gene is a GOOD thing? It PREVENTS tumours? And here I was thinking it was a bad old gene that caused a lotta trouble. Nope. Not at all. It’s when both dangly bits in the gene have that bad mutation (effectively stopping BRCA from killing weird cells) that things become a lot more risky.

Q) And have you considered the implications of this test? On your well-being, your treatment options, your life insurance [by the by, my life insurance is essentially shot – except I may already have some thanks to Mom and Dad – but otherwise ticking that box of ‘cancer’ on an application isn’t going to get me anywhere too quick. Mind you, the consultant did say that if I get this test and it comes back negative for the mutation, there are some Canadian life insurance companies that will take that into consideration. ]

A) Yes I have. (Well, kinda.) Please give me the test.

Well heck, like I said in a previous post – what am I going to do? Having already gotten sick once, I’d be crazy not to investigate further. And my well-being has already been challenged. Fact is things are as they are; knowing or not knowing isn’t going to change the way things are. Therefore, I choose to know.

Maybe that’s why Eve ate her juicy Red Delicious. She figured, hey, what’s the harm? And then – BAM – kicked outta paradise!

Ignorance is bliss to a large degree. Not knowing I had cancer was easier than knowing. But it certainly didn’t do me any favours. Sometimes (rarely) I imagine what it would have been like to have found my bump earlier. Would I still have a right breast? Would I have needed months of chemotherapy? Anyhow. I want to know – regardless of the possible difficult decisions that may or may not follow.

I have decided. Give me the test. I want to know.

(And in four months I’ll get the results. Talk about building the suspense.)

(OH! And good news for Zsolt and I, the test is covered by OHIP because I’m absurdly young for this disease. My ‘freak of nature’ status has worked in my favour this time. Fantastic.)

(One final thought. Please keep your fingers crossed that result come back negative: nothing found. I’d rather still wonder, “why the heck did I get cancer,” than know a BRCA mutation was at the root. Much rather.)

Melancholy is stupid.

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Canada, Life by

Today I made a potato salad – the worst potato salad ever. Woke up with this brilliant idea for lunch; a triple salad extravaganza. It was going to be a hit outta the ball park. You see, every week my family has this competition entitled: Cook of the Week. Last week I totally owned with a grilled burger topped with a three cheese melange (with garlic and oil mixed in, and a bit of pepper);  a pickle, sprout and cabbage side; and baked potato chips.

Geez. Just remembering that meal has got me salivating.

Anyhow, I woke up this morning with a plan to rule the kitchen. Except that I slept in late, and therefore busted my entire routine. That’s the first bit.

Then I began to peel and boil the potatoes . . . got that salad going, and simultaneously began the quinoa boiling and cleaned the kale. The third salad was meant to be mixed greens with a kinda vinegar dressing and roasted red peppers.

Anyhow – I managed the kale salad, but just barely. As I rounded the corner with the potato salad I forgot to premix the mayo, mustard and salt. Instead it just all went into the pot without comparison or pause. Ugh. What resulted was just this over-salted mess of mushy potato.

So, I had the quinoa, the gross potato, and no third salad. It was at this point that I said to myself, “screw this” and called my dad’s office, asking him to bring home a roasted chicken.

He has brought home a roasted chicken. They are now in the kitchen eating lunch. I feel totally knackered, and am wondering: is it because of a potato salad?

Not sure. But one thing is for sure – right now, at this point, I can barely motivate myself to get off this lovely red chaise and serve myself a plate of food. So weird right? You know that saying, “woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” Yeah. That might be me. I don’t feel entirely un-awesome. There’s a trickle of awesomeness running through my fingers and on my head (wherever the sunshine hits) . . . but today I varied from my routine to the detriment of my potato salad.

Really this whole ‘do a routine’ thing has been going fairly well. I guess it’s just on those slip up days when things get a bit messy again. However, the remainder of this day continues to be my oyster. And I don’t want a dumb thing like mayonnaise:salt ratio ruining this Tuesday.

Screw this screwing it. I’m getting up, eating, and seeing what I can do with this day. Right now.

P.S. Lunch is done. These people finished the entire potato salad – I wasn’t even going to serve the mess, but they got their hands on it and ate the entire batch. Maybe it wasn’t so horrible after all. Hmm.

Routine for success (and tea)

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Canada, Writing by

Now I realise that success should not be measured in material gain. Giant homes, diamond rings, oil fields and speedy yachts parked in Monaco for the winter can’t make you happy unless you have friends, family and time in which to share the joy (these are just some examples, feel free to define your own idea of material gain). And I personally think a small backyard BBQ with awesome people is one of the best ways to spend a Friday night, and that really costs nothing except an investment of time (to cook & clean) and organisation (to get people to bring along a pot-luck dish), and a little bit of cash to buy the sausages & salad.

So please, don’t get me wrong when I say the following:

This chaise lounge is like sitting on a cushion of happiness, and together we float in the living room as the fireplace warms, the sun shines, and the walls whisper into my ear with their deep red tones. (A bold paint choice, no?)

This is my dream living room. Thankfully it’s also my parent’s house. And I think, one day soon, it’d be nice to have a similar place that makes me feel this cosy. (My old flat in England came quite close with our green sofa and giant windows . . . But then I was incredibly allergic to that place after the mold incident, and the “double glazed” windows leaked with British cold.)

Anyhow, while material goods aren’t the be-all and end-all. They are quite nice on a cosy December afternoon by the fire, and I think there’s nothing wrong with wanting a little piece of heaven in your living room. So long as it doesn’t get excessive. (i.e. No diamond studded coffee table. Although to be honest, I’d very much like to have two homes – thus exceeding what most people would consider sufficient. I’d love to have a place in Ottawa and a place along the shore of Lake Balaton. That would be awesome. The excess is debatable.)

But in order to achieve any kind of material gain, we first need to have long-lasting splurges of success. That basically translates into ‘make money’ – which sounds a bit . . . hmm, unromantic, but it’s the freaking truth. And so for the past week and day (including today) I’ve tried to be more productive than normal.

Here’s my routine. It helps prevents rising entropy (my natural-and-hard-to-resist tendency of personal disorder). Right:

1) Wake up at a reasonable time.

2) Tidy the house. (Every morning there are grocery bags to stick back into the car. How do they keep on getting inside? )

3) Eat breakfast.

4) Get on the elliptical and exercise. (BURN ESTROGEN, BURN!!)

5) Take a shower.

6) Go out and write. This generally results in my visiting Starbucks. Today I tried the library but the chairs are all facing the window and it blinded me as I squinted at my light-reflecting computer screen. So I packed up my stuff and went over to the coffee shop. Notable: coffee shops are a constant trend in my life; places of both comfort and inspiration, plus cups of delicious tea!

7) Come back to the house and make lunch for my family.

The rest of the afternoon is left for the distractions. There are always distractions like cooking, cleaning, ‘responsibility’ing, visiting, tweeting,  job searching, blogging (yes, blogging is distracting. Lovely, but it doesn’t help my novel-writing progress), etc. You never know what the afternoon holds.

And while this routine-following doesn’t directly trigger a cash parade through my bank account, it nevertheless leaves me feeling AWESOME, and feeling AWESOME is great.  (I guess success is really more of a feeling, rather than a measurement of ‘where you are’, no? Today I feel successful. Not much has changed in my life, except that feeling, and about 300-1500 words per day of writing.)

So I’m going to try and stick to my pattern. It makes me feel productive, and that’s a powerful thing – I’d even say it’s better than this chaise lounge. Way better. Although the chaise is a beautiful piece of furniture.

Anyhow. Here ends my brain ramble. Have a wonderful, productive day, and may you be filled with a sense of success.

Finger crossed the routine continues!