genetic testing, saying no to prophylactic mastectomy and more bills
Making that choice to keep my breast was a hard one. And it was one where I really questioned my own stubbornness and wondered why I was so attached to anything that had the potential to kill me down the line. Since removing the breast could not guarantee not having cancer recur, I had to follow my gut. Removing my breast on the chance that cancer could come to that breast just wasn't something that ever felt right in my spirit. So, I finally said no. But it was hard. And I do understand why a lot of women opt to have this surgery done. The scare with my mammogram the other week did make me pause and really reflect about the possibility of doing this dance again. In the end, I decided to keep my breast and say no to the surgery.
Sadly, I said no after making the decision to have the genetic testing and after having my blood drawn for the procedure. I wish I had made the decision before that. Could have saved myself some money. But, I will have to pay this bill when it arrives because I asked for it.
I received a call the other day that my results are in for the genetic test. (rolling eyes) I truly do NOT want to even know. Crazy sounding I know, but I don't. I have to make an appointment to find out the results. And figure out how to pay for this expensive test. With the cost of this test, I will have spent at least ten thousand dollars out of my own pocket during this breast cancer journey. I think if I add the costs of money spent at the drugstore for this, that and the other thing -- it may add on another couple thousand to the costs.
Once I speak with the geneticist, I can report whether I have the breast cancer gene(s) and how that information will affect my treatment going forward. One thing I know... I will be sharing the results with my family so that they can be armed with some knowledge that will help them in the future.
a week after surgery...recuperating just fine.
The doctor was pleased with my healing progress so far and I'm moving on to the next phase... trying to figure out how to minimize these scars and do all I can do to heal my skin and my abdomen. I'm ready to get back into my life again.
From an emotional standpoint, I'm not quite sure where I stand really. I'm up and down... still quite emotional from the past few weeks. Can't really put my finger on what's bothering me -- I think its that I'm chasing a feeling that keeps eluding me. I feel like I'm "chasing normal". The feeling came down on me really hard while I was in the hospital and it hung around for quite a few days.
I'm trying to get back to a certain feeling, a certain place in my mind where I'll be normal again. Where I'll feel like myself again. And everything that I do to get there, disappoints me because when I get there, I still feel like the cancer-girl. I am sick of it.
I woke up from surgery feeling tired, in pain and so deeply sad that it really took me by surprise. I was grateful for the visits from family and friends during those few days because it really helped to lift my spirits. Now that I'm home, I feel less sad but still I'm struggling with depressing thoughts. I expected this surgery to be a quick fix, I think. I thought that I would wake up, look down and smile when I saw my changed body.
Truthfully, I almost cried.
I was not prepared for the bruising, the pain the stitches. I was not prepared for the inability to walk, sit up, or stand. But, even with that... I am grateful that I'm healing well and feeling a bit better.
I'm down to just one drain. Had four when I was in the hospital. The doctor believes that I'm healing well and she asked me if I was happy with the size breast that she gave me. I am. It is a nice size -- I'm guessing a DD -- but there is still swelling and all that. So it may shrink some before its all said and done. It will require some mental adjustment because it is not the same size as my natural breast and when (if) I decide to take the next step in this journey and have my other breast reduced and lifted so that it matches -- I'm still going to have to see myself in a different way.
Today, I am plotting the rest of the year and making plans for next year. From a medical perspective, there are several surgeries in my future and while I am not really excited about them, I will do what I need to do to keep this train moving forward. It just may take some time. I've been moving pretty fast in getting things done. I will probably slow down and take more time between procedures. The costs are adding up in ways that I had not imagined previously.
I thought that the quicker/sooner I did "the next thing", the better my mental outlook would be. But that's not exactly what's been happening. Each new step has created a new whirlwind of confusion, sadness, and all kinds of emotions that I was really trying to avoid. Concerns about everything from my health, my survival, impact on my family, impact on my job, impact on my finances, and my dating prospects have swirled around my head and my heart with each step I've taken.
I am mentally and emotionally tired now. So, I'm going to give myself some time to just get comfortable where I am. The one thing I learned from this experience -- moreso than the other steps on this journey -- is that moving forward when you're not sure, really isn't the best thing to do.
I'm happy that its over but in hindsight, as much as I didn't think I could wait longer...I believe I should have waited a few months longer. I think that I was so hesitant because the truth was that I probably needed to get comfortable with my body in its altered state. This body with all its scars and discolorations (and aches and pains) is my new normal. This is it.
This is it. Realizing that is like letting go of a big breath of air. Exhale...
I'm focusing now on this moment, this perspective, learning to love and accept this life that I have -- which isn't the life I had before and that requires a different out look on life. But this is what I have, this is what I fought for. This is why I cried through chemotherapy for four months. This is why it was worth losing my tastebuds and my fingernails. This is why it was necessary to go through 2 months of radiation. To watch my skin blacken and peel away from my body. This is it. This is why I had to miss the inauguration of the first black president of the US to have my mastectomy. This ... is it. This life, right now, at this moment -- scarred, battered and bruised -- has to become my joy. Its not some thing out there... its right here, within me.
I've been asking myself (every day)... what's next Nicole? What do you appreciate about your life? Where do you want to go with your future? I don't have any answers yet, but I'm working on it. I do, however, have a flat tummy. (smile) Haven't seen one of those in a long time.
well, i am home and i am in pain
Since I just got into bed and it seems that finding a comfortable resting place is going to be difficult... I may have to keep this initial post short.
Few notes:
- the surgery was far too long
- the way my stomach feels right now, I'm not sure iI made the right decision
- I really expected to wake up and feel "all good"...but I don't.
- All of the love and kindness is truly appreciated
- I'm really feeling very sad.
But I'm here and a few days ago, I really wasn't sure that I would be. I'm tired, I'm scared and I'm without any percocet to get through the night.
But I'm here. Details will come soon... and they will be more entertaining than this post. I promise. Its just been a long few days.
One step forward, two breasts back
I will say-as her friend, her sister, her prayer partner, her ace-thank you for all of your love, support, and prayers. Being the modest woman that she is, she may remove this blog entry later but since I have the floor now...Nicole is such an amazing, inspirational sister with a story that many don't even know the half of. The strength that this woman has shown (even in her weaker moments) during her journey with breast cancer has been admirable, to say the least. I am so proud and blessed to have her friendship and I look forward to growing old together. Interestingly, while I'll be old and saggy, Nic will be oldER and perky. Hey, you've gotta try to find the bright spots wherever you can!
Nic, I love ya, girl! And thank you for trusting me with your baby (blog). And for those who may think that my usage of the term 'raw eloquence' is an oxymoron, you must not have read this sistah's writing.
-Michal
the mammogram was fine!
I am happy to say that after I dropped off the film from my previous mammogram for comparison, I received a call from my doctor who told me that the radiologist felt that the mass that showed up on the film was NOT cancer.
Thank God.
Of course, in those hours between the first conversation and the second... (in my mind) I had already started thinking about going through chemo again, surgery again and all that comes along with it. I'm glad to know that I was worrying for no reason.
I believe that I will have to have a mammogram every 6 months (or possibly every 3 months) on my remaining breast in order to stay on top of any possibility of cancer showing up in that breast. But I would rather do that than remove the breast just in case. But this "scare" really showed me that although I feel like I've come a long way in my treatment and I have a good attitude about it... I am truly still very scared about breast cancer. And that may take a long time to get over.
Let’s talk again about why getting a pedicure is a no-no
I went to a salon I trusted. I felt that the technician did a wonderful job but I failed to inform her that I was in treatment for cancer and that she needed to be extra careful with clipping my nails.
When I think back, I don’t really know why I didn’t say anything. I had gotten pedicures before during the summer and each time I was very adamant that the technician be extra careful with my toes. And they were. But this time, I think I was upset about something (can’t recall what exactly) and I didn’t want the pitying looks that always follow… “I am in treatment for breast cancer”. So I didn’t say anything. I just sort of watched her closely.
I can recall the snip that probably caused all the problems I would have later. I felt it when she tugged at that nail. But…I didn’t say anything. I just prayed it would be okay. It was…for about a week. And then things started to get a little janky.
Kill me now…
So…when my toe started looking a little crazy, I dismissed it. Started doing my own thing with it. Kept it clean and bandaged. Kept putting my trusty Neosporin on it…and didn’t think much else about it. I figured it would heal shortly. And when shortly stretched out into a little longer…I figured that since my immune system is still slightly compromised that maybe the healing would take a little longer but it wasn’t a big deal.
By the time I realized that the toe wasn’t healing and that maybe it was a big deal about a month had passed. I called the oncologist’s office and he seemed rather cool about it. Well, let me put it this way – he didn’t seem too stressed about it. So, I took that as it wasn’t a big deal and I went about my merry way. He suggested I go to see my primary care doctor and left it at that.
I didn’t call my doctor for another couple of weeks. I could run off a litany of excuses but the real thing is that I didn’t want another bill showing up at my house. For one little ol’ janky toe? (waving hand) Chile cheese… couldn’t be that horrible, right? It’s just a toe. Again…wrong. So very wrong.
So…about two weeks ago, I finally get in to see my primary care doctor. He was kind as always and when he looked at that toe – I could see the laughter in his eyes. That thing was ugly – not horrible but definitely in need of attention. He wrote a prescription for some antibiotics and gave me a referral to a podiatrist and sent me on my way. He told me that my infection was pretty common. Folks get infections from pedicures all the time. And he also reiterated that I am not supposed to get pedicures while I’m in treatment.
Y’all do realize that I am a hard-headed knuckle head sometimes, right?
I took the prescription but didn’t go see the podiatrist. (yeah, yeah…I know…I suck) Normally, when you take antibiotics, they kick in right away and things are all better halfway through the prescription. Not this time. That’s when it finally hit me that I was in a little bit of trouble and I needed to get on top of this.
Now… to clarify the timeline… I got my pedicure at the beginning of September. I saw the podiatrist at the beginning of November. That’s TWO WHOLE months later. See the issue? I had made all sorts of excuses, had ignored what was going on with my body…and basically put my head in the sand and refused to see that there was a real issue at hand.
A hard head makes a soft behind … everytime.
The podiatrist was pleasant but he was not pleased that I took so long to come and see him. My infection wasn’t that horrible but still it was bad enough. And it could have easily become much, much worse. He had to numb my toe, freeze the skin, clip the nail and cut away a portion of the infected area. I walked like Frankenstein for the rest of the day. (serves me right)
The podiatrist told me a frightening story about a little boy with an infected toe that wasn’t treated properly or within a reasonable timeframe and the infection ate away the bones in his toe. Yikes! Caused him to be hospitalized for a couple of weeks… double yikes! And ended up costing his family over $35,000! (And this was about 20 years ago…so imagine that hospital bill today.)
Sigh. Ms. Nic/Fancy Pants has learned her lesson. (again) I am not as healthy and strong as other people. I have to take extra precautions – even when I don’t feel like it – because the slightest problem can become a major issue. And the longer I wait to address a problem, the worse the problem becomes.
Today, I had to show my crazy toe to my surgeon because she was worried that if the infection was too bad, I would have to reschedule my surgery. (I may do that anyway depending on the results of the mammogram film review but we’ll see) She looked at me with that same pitying look that I was trying to avoid initially… But this one was all on me. (shaking my head…)
So to be clear… NO PEDICURES while you’re in treatment for breast cancer. No matter how pretty the toes could be, the risk of infection is truly not worth it.
Freaked out by a mammogram
So, imagine my state of mind when my “really quick” mammogram turned into a 3 hour ordeal of filming, re-filming, ultrasound, a consultation with the radiologist and a consultation with my plastic surgeon.
I freaked out. My heart dropped when I saw the films and there was a mass – very distinctive – in the breast. I kept telling myself that it couldn’t have been my film, that there must be some mistake…God simply would not do this to me TWICE.
But…if you’ve ever had a mammogram or an irregular pap smear… you know the crazy heart palpitations that immediately start hammering in your chest as soon as they say… “There’s something of concern here”.
Sigh.
I’m freaked out and scared. I want to run home and crawl into the bed. But I can’t. The radiologist did not seem super-concerned BUT at this point; after all that I’ve been through even a little concern is a lot to me. Nothing showed up on the ultrasound. That is a good thing. She wants to review my film from my previous mammogram tomorrow (I have to bring it to the hospital for them) and check it against this morning’s film. I am hoping…and praying and wishing…that it’s nothing.
The plastic surgeon remarked that even if it’s something, its likely small enough that it can be taken care of without radiation to that breast. (Radiation? Wow… how did we get here already?)
It’s a lot to absorb today…my mind is practically shut down. I’ve snotted and cried on the phone to my mother, on my co-worker’s shoulder and on the phone with my best friend…and I’m drained.
The funny thing is that while I was getting the mammogram done, I was chastising myself about feeling negative about the process. The self-chatter was crazy but it was effective. I eventually shut up that little voice that kept screaming… “I hate this!” And I convinced myself that having the mammogram done and knowing if there was anything wrong was so much more valuable than any pain, discomfort that I may have felt during the exam.
Right now, I’m freaked out. Ready to cancel the surgery this week. Just ready to push back and try to regroup and get my head together. I still don’t know the results of the genetic test. I’m worried about this mass that showed up on my mammogram…and most of all I’m just downright scared about being under anesthesia for 10 hours.
Today…it is too much to bear. But I’m going to handle it because I have to. You know…thank God for mommas. My mom let me cry and boohoo over the phone and she didn’t make me feel bad for being so scared. I don’t want to go through this again. But if I have to, I am so grateful to have the people in my life who love and support me through the madness.
why an advance directive is necessary for your life
As I continue to prepare for surgery, I have to think about (and act upon) some unpleasant tasks. The first one being... preparing for the "just in case" because surgery is a risk and something could happen. As you know, I'm single, never been married and I have no children. So... I never really thought that I needed a will. And then breast cancer came along and showed me that my life is fragile -- just like everyone else's -- and while I don't have much, there are some things that I would like to share with certain friends and family when I'm gone. And contrary to my own belief, I do have my own thoughts about how I want to live my life... you know, just in case.
Few of us like to think about death. But the reality is that having an illness like breast cancer means that you have to be wholly aware of lots of details about your life and its impact on your loved ones. Now, I'm not going to make you guys think that I'm bold and bravely walking into this "being a grown-up" thing. (laughs) Nothing of the sort is true... but I was reminded the other day that I do have to accept the possibilities that something can go wrong and try to prepare for it.
Prepare an advance directive
When I went to take care of my pre-surgery bloodwork the other day, the administrator asked me for an advance directive. I didn't have one (which was okay) but after I left the hospital, I realized that I actually did have one on-line. Suze Orman (financial guru that she is) has an online will and trust program on her website that will allow you to prepare an advance directive in about 5 minutes. [Suze Orman, Will and Trust link] I actually had created an advance directive a couple of months ago. I just had forgotten about it. (Still need to finish that will though)
What is an advance directive?
An advance directive tells your doctor what kind of care you would like to have if you become unable to make medical decisions (if you are in a coma, for example). If you are admitted to the hospital, the hospital staff will probably talk to you about advance directives. A good advance directive describes the kind of treatment you would want depending on how sick you are. For example, the directives would describe what kind of care you want if you have an illness that you are unlikely to recover from, or if you are permanently unconscious. Advance directives usually tell your doctor that you don't want certain kinds of treatment. However, they can also say that you want a certain treatment no matter how ill you are.Okay...so here's the deal... take 5 minutes and think about what you would want done if something were to happen while you're in treatment or in surgery (as in my case).
- Is it against your religion to donate your organs? Does anyone know that?
- Do you want the medical team to do whatever it takes to keep you alive or would you want them to let you go in peace, if it looks too bad?
- What do YOU want to happen in YOUR treatment?
Feel me?
The choices I made in my advance directive may not be the same choices that you would make. But that's what makes it such a necessity and also what makes it so very cool. This journey (with all its bumps and curves and hills) is mine. It is not one-size-fits-all... it is custom-fitted for me.
Actually completing the advance directive on Suze's site took about 2 minutes. Literally. She's got it all worked out so that you just fill in a few blanks and bam, you're done. The hardest part was actually thinking before-hand what I want. And committing to it.
Which I did. :)
The law is on my side…but will my employer be? Post-mastectomy procedures must be covered by your insurance.
I just reviewed my benefits renewal information from my employer. (I’m late opening the package but I knew I wasn’t going to change anything on my package so there was no urgency).
Right on the first page is a notification box that refers to “The Women’s Health and Cancer Rights Act of 1998”…which goes on to say that after having a mastectomy my health plan has to cover certain post-mastectomy medical procedures.
By law a breast cancer patient may elect and must be covered for:
• Reconstruction of the breast on which the mastectomy was performed;
• Surgery and reconstruction of the other breast to produce a normal cosmetic appearance;
• Prostheses and
• Physical complications for all stages of mastectomy, including lymphedemas.
Well, right away I’m kicking myself for not opening this envelope a month ago. Would have saved some worries and some anxiety. (Laughs) Although I know (now) that my medical procedures are covered by my health insurance, my worry about my position in my office and with my company remains the same.
I was just briefly chatting on twitter with one of my pink ribbon sisters (@silknsaber) and I was complaining that I was really feeling exhausted with all the medical appointments and pills and bills. I am TIRED! My sister was right there with just the right thing to say and then she hit me with a bombshell. She has had 3 surgeries in 6 months! Yikes.
Can you imagine? She said that she just told her doctor that she’s had enough. She didn’t want to go through anything else for a little while. She said to me that she understood what I was feeling because she too just had reached a point where she did not want to be touched anymore.
Two of the procedures that she’s had done, are definitely in my future – nipple reconstruction. But I will also have a surgery on my remaining breast to make it look more like the reconstructed breast – a little lifting, a little reduction. And when I was thinking about all that she had been going through, it hit me. That’s going to be me next year.
Everyone around me is in a good celebratory mood about the ending of my chemo. My doctors, my colleagues at work, my friends… but not me. To many people, the end of my chemo is the end of the road for my breast cancer treatment. But the honest truth is I have only started on this road. This is not a sprint… it is probably the longest marathon in the world. In fact, I can’t see an end in sight. That scares and depresses me.
If it is my right as a human being and a woman with breast cancer – to do whatever it takes medically to bring myself back to “wholeness” – can someone explain to me HOW it is supposed to happen? I am grateful that the law exists that says that my breasts are important and how they look is important and that my illness should not take that important thing from me. However, the reality is that every surgery means a few things – it means money (either my own or my insurance company’s), it means time (time for the procedure and time to recuperate) and it means adjustment.
Being single with breast cancer not only sucks, it puts you in a very precarious position
As I prepare for the next stage on this journey, I think often about the sister I met online who delayed her reconstruction for 8 years. She too was single like me and I think of her because I can understand her desire to wait so long to take care of this “vanity”. I keep telling myself over and over that I am not crazy for wanting to have a second breast. I am not vain for wanting to look balanced like a normal grown woman. I am not horrible because I’m sick of wearing this “shoulder pad” (that’s what I call my lightweight prosthesis) and sick of worrying whether it’s peeking out through my clothes. I know it’s my right to be restored but I am really wondering how I (or anyone else) can be expected to be a part of any office environment if you’re out frequently taking care of medical issues? How do I balance my illness with my desire to do a good job for my employer?
I carry this guilt with me everyday that I am costing people too much – too much money, too much time, just too much something. Everyday, I look at my colleagues and I wonder what they really think about my schedule. I go to the doctor just about every week, sometimes multiple times in a week and I wonder whether or not they look at me and think I’m slacking or I’m faking. In my heart, I don’t think they feel that way about me (well maybe someone does but its not the majority) but it is difficult convincing my head that it is not true. It’s a hassle feeling this way.
I’ll be out of the office for another 6 weeks this year. I will be out of the office probably for a couple of months next year. And it’s likely that I will disproportionately be absent from work for the rest of my working years. I just want to know who gave this disease the right to take so much from me – for so long. And I really want to know how do I counteract what it is taking away from me?
My friend Sophia wrote a wonderful article for Essence magazine's website (Essence.com) (Sophia's article on Essence.com) about being there for your single sisters who have breast cancer. There are a lot of us who do not have husbands or children but who are fighting this disease with a different sort of support system. I would be crazy (I mean, nut-house crazy for real) if it were not for the prayers of my family and friends, the friends I’ve made on twitter and facebook and the opportunities to connect with other women across the country who are dealing with the same issues at the same time. But as it comes to dealing with my job and the fact that I have to have a job, that I have to have insurance and that if I drop the ball in any way, I’m going to suffer greatly – I become very overwhelmed and afraid.
I do not know how to do this. But somehow, it has to be done.
Embarrassment preparing for the TRAM flap surgery
So, after a detailed conversation with my plastic surgeon, I opted for the TRAM flap a few months ago. And promptly put my mind on other things.
This morning, I completely FORGOT that I had this appointment. I was on my way to work, thinking about cupcakes and then the reminder notice pinged on my blackberry. I was stunned. Between me and you, I think that I’m in denial about having this procedure done. I feel like I’m on a runaway train and I can’t find the brakes. And that is really not how it’s supposed to feel.
George Washington University Hospital is a teaching hospital so it is not unusual for student doctors to be with a member of my medical team when I have an appointment. I think that I have a reputation as being a relatively easy patient because it seems that many of my appointments are ones where students are in the room with me and my doctor. Normally, it doesn’t bother me. Today…the two students were guys and it bothered me. Deeply.
After all that I’ve been through; all of the doctors and nurses who have seen my body in various states of dress…I was not prepared to be so embarrassed when the plastic surgeon asked me to drop my pants while she examined my belly area. It felt very invasive. Not cool.
Considering that normally I only get undressed from the waist up…I had not considered dropping my pants. I had not thought about her touching me, in front of two strangers and examining me so intently. Yet, there I was, face burning hot…trying not to look at these two young men too directly because I felt…so exposed and really embarrassed.
I was relieved when she asked them to leave only to be further embarrassed when she pulled out a camera to take pictures of me.
Before my mastectomy and my chemotherapy, I took a picture of myself naked so that I could remember what I looked like before my treatments. However, since my mastectomy, I have refused to take a picture of my body in its current state of disfigurement. I did not want to keep a picture of this crazy radiation scar (hyper-pigmentation) and I did not want to see a picture of my mastectomy scar. Its difficult enough looking at it when I’m in the bathroom alone. I didn’t want proof that breast cancer had changed me so much.
But today…proof does exist. And it’s proof that I won’t even be able to control or hold in my hands because its part of my medical files now. I am so embarrassed and I’m not completely sure why. I am unhappy today. There is so much to do before the surgery and I am still seriously contemplating cancelling it completely and just pretending that I’m okay just the way that I am.
So many things can possibly go wrong. The surgery scares me, to be honest. And while I want to feel like myself again, I’m starting to really accept that I’m never ever going to be that person again in my life. The normal for Nicole before breast cancer just doesn’t exist anymore. And that really hurts.
Today is a day...I could use a big ol' hug. But a cupcake from Red Velvet will have to suffice.
Feeling crazy about testing for the breast cancer gene
TESTING FOR THE BRCA1/BRCA2 GENE
http://www.cancer.gov/cancertopics/factsheet/Risk/BRCA
After talking to the geneticist....I was more confused and more scared than before I met with her.
The reality is that most women do not carry the breast cancer gene. However, the other side of that coin is that I did have breast cancer and two of my aunts did have breast cancer. And I was diagnosed under 40 years old. That is an unusual situation that means that getting tested is a good idea.
One thing that the geneticist mentioned that I had not thought of, were the ramifications of having a breast cancer genetic test in my history. (sigh) She tried to reassure me that getting the test was less problematic from a health insurance perspective than having breast cancer. I had not thought of that at all.
How crazy is it that you have to compound your health concerns in the present with insurance, job, and financial concerns in the future?
I would think that insurance companies -- and possible future employers -- would want to know whether or not someone has the breast cancer gene in order to be in a better position to treat the illness before it becomes a huge financial burden. Is it me or is our system rather backwards? We seem to be enslaved to insurance companies who simply DO NOT want to consider preventative health measures. But who do want to give punishment for those who ultimately do have to deal with major health concerns. It makes no sense.
The way that the hospital sets up the testing, you have to come in and meet with the geneticist so that she can explain to you what the test is, what it does and how it works. Then you have to be told that the test costs almost $4,000! (and you have to sign papers that you were informed of this cost) before they will even schedule the blood draw. The hospital has a system now where they run the paperwork to your insurance company BEFORE they test your sample, to find out whether or not the insurance company will cover any of the costs. Many companies do cover the test cost -- but not completely. So, if my insurance company covers the test, my contribution will be about $500 or so.
Sigh.
I opted to take the test because I feel an obligation to know. I feel an obligation to let my family know whether or not this is something that we need to be aware of. I feel an obligation to myself to do all that I can do to ensure that I am as proactive as possible with my health. I may have a daughter one day -- its a slim thought but a possibility -- and after all I've been through, it would be horrible NOT to know something like this might be lurking in my baby girl's dna.
The test results won't be back for about 2 weeks. I will have to make the decision to keep or remove my breast without knowing the results of my genetic testing. That is very scary but something that cannot be helped.
