First, the good news - I got my genetic results back today and I am BRCA negative! That is great news for me and my sweet girls. It complicates my decisions in a good way and gives me some piece of mind that I am not passing this onto my three girls. 

Getting as many opinions as I have in a short period of time is not for the faint of heart. It is mentally and emotionally taxing, and both leaves me feeling more empowered and knowledgeable, but at times more confused and overwhelmed with details, research and statistics. And every conversation ends the same. I have to do what I believe is best for me, my body, my mental well-being and my family. Trying to weigh out and predict how I will feel in the future given the choices I make in this moment is hard. Maybe not for everyone but it is for me.

Every surgeon and a few of the oncologists and plastic surgeons have offered their personal opinion on a single versus bilateral mastectomy. No one has taken the time or had the perspective of the new surgeon I met from Stanford this evening. She is also the first doctor I met armed with my BRCA negative results. I truly loved her. She is my doctor. That is definitely a huge plus. I know my surgical team. Now, I just have to decide if a prophylactic mastectomy on the left side is the best option given everything we know about my body and cancer. For the first time, I am strongly considering just a mastectomy on the right.

I left the appointment and immediately reached out to my network to try to seek some opinions from those who have been guiding me through this process. I was interrupted by the surgeon who is supposed to operate on me this Friday calling me directly. It was almost like I was speaking to a different person. She was rude and inconsiderate. She partially tried to console me and tell me I should have the time and space to make my own decisions, but basically told me she should not be my surgeon. She even said anyone could do this and I should just use the last person I saw. The timing of her call, as I drove home from seeking another surgical opinion, as well as the lack of bedside manner and care felt like a strong sign that moving forward with the Stanford doctors is the right decision. Maybe the man upstairs knows I am in need of help and guidance, and getting that call as I merged onto a major highway is enough of a sign for me. You are not on my side. 

Upon arriving home I quickly made a few calls, texts and emails to try to touch base with those I trust and then got to sit down to a lasagne dinner that has ruined me forever. I have mentioned my local network a few times in these posts, but our small neighborhood private cabana club (swimming pool) is a huge part of our ties to this neighborhood and community. They are my home and we love the pool dearly. So many from that area of my life have stepped up in big ways to help out - taking over my volunteer responsibilities, bringing food, providing laughs and generally being supportive. The heart of that community can apparently make an incredible lasagne that I will have to now have to beg, borrow and steal for from here on out. 

So now I try to relax, wait to hear back from a few people and “sleep on it”. We will see if sleep happens, but either way I hope I can find clarity quickly.