March 8th Post I know exactly what I would do...

if it were happening to me.

Oh, I forgot, it is happening to me.

Slowly the realization, that BRCA1+ is my life at age 43.

This means being distracted from my exercises in PT, trying not to cry, thinking about how hard it will be to come back after surgery and have my therapist and I start over to get everything back in order. The reality of having my chest cut open setting in a little, when I was supposed to be learning to depress my scapula, to use my muscles right. Would I come back to work with her or want to start over with a stranger? Thankful that my currently achy neck means that I get to see her and get things in order first. Probably will help in the long run. And her brand of care is much needed now.

Holding my breath, walking on to the hospital ward, wondering which of my friends will be there, and whether they have read my email. The absurdity that my social life will evolve into talking about my planned surgeries on the ward with friends, and acquaintances and new staff members at various stages of knowledge about me and my situation, and my risks.

Waiting for the emotions to crash in and interrupt my existence, hopefully not noticeably limiting my work functions.

Relying heavily on this site, and emails from friends and acquaintances for support, acknowledgement of my situation, and distraction from the inner dialogues.
Feeling bad for changing roles. I am supposed to be steady and reliable, not obsessed, distant, erratic.

Leaning on on my office staff to keep my spirits up and put up with my ramblings.

The sudden realization that, in the process of sharing, I am scaring my colleagues and friends. I guess that is what education is about. Look at me, with a pretesting 8.5% risk of having a breast cancer gene mutation, but having one anyway.

The frustration of needing to see my therapist every week, and knowing that I am going to have to work on things.

The heightened awareness of how cancer is all around me. 2 colleagues with pancreatic CA, diagnosed in the past 6 months, my pharmacist's mother starting chemo this week for ovarian CA. A colleague struggling with a big family hx of ovca (ovarian cancer.)

Waiting to wait in doctor's waiting rooms, learning how to be a patient.

The pleasant distraction of renewing a friendship with a paraplegic friend, who can help without asking how I am or talking about surgery or BRCA or anything.

Learning about my body, and about my mind, at a time when subtleties like metabolism and posture seem inconsequential, but subtleties like adrenaline, and mindfulness and meditation, may be the keys to getting through.

Margaret, who is willing to try to get to the essence of the situation, but only on my terms.

So nice to get feedback from the FORCE folks, challenging my assumptions, praising my writing, and helping me find myself in this new phase of life.