GENETIC TESTING
On December 27th I went to have my blood drawn for the genetic testing again. Jeff and I were both on vacation that week so we hoped I would be able to have surgery then. But since I had to wait for the testing results there was no time to fit it in. It would be another two weeks before I knew what kind of surgery it would be. At least it gave me time to look into plastic surgeons for reconstruction.
Wednesday morning (December 28th) we were sleeping in when the doctor's office called. They received my genetic testing results. But how! I just had it redone the previous day! Come to find out, the original test WAS sent in. The only thing that wasn't done was a log update indicating it was put in the mail. Before my mind could clear enough to really understand what was going on she said my results were negative.
(As a reminder. Positive meant I would have a double mastectomy and total hysterectomy. Negative meant a lumpectomy.)
Jeff was catching only half the conversation but he was putting it together. His eyes were big but he was cautiously holding back. Once I hung up the phone and I repeated it to him, he was overwhelmed with happiness, just as I was.
It was a great day and we celebrated with a nice dinner that night. My dad and step-mom watched the kids for us. I've seen a lot more of dad since all of this, but that is another topic I want to write about. We'll save it for later.
You may wonder if Jeff was happy because I wouldn't be loosing my breasts. No, that wasn't it at all. Jeff knew how much I didn't want to go through a mastectomy and reconstruction. With plastic surgery I (or we, depending on how you look at it) could have enjoyed some nice "enhancements" to my figure, but I didn't want them. I wanted "me", and he knew how important that was.
This is how he has been through all of this. He doesn't make me feel like there is a right or wrong way to think or act. Whatever I do is the right thing for me and he supports me 100%. Boy, he must be getting tired.
- One day I just want to read the Internet and ignore the piles of information coming in the mail from the American Cancer Society and Susan G Komen. The next day I'm obsessed with organizing the material into a binder and am asking him to get it three-hole punched!
- One day I'm calling his cell phone from upstairs, asking him to set up a TV tray next to my bedside with all my gadgets, ice bags, and water. The next day I'm refusing to follow doctors orders and rest.
- One day I'm bushing my hair and moping about how long my curling iron will go untouched. The next day I'm getting 4 inches cut off and telling him I'm going blond for a few weeks.
- One day I'm frozen in front of Facebook not wanting to announce any of this. The next day I'm blogging not just what is going on, but how I feel about it and how he is reacting! Then I make him proof read for me.
WHEW! I LOVE YOU HONEY.
On December 27th I went to have my blood drawn for the genetic testing again. Jeff and I were both on vacation that week so we hoped I would be able to have surgery then. But since I had to wait for the testing results there was no time to fit it in. It would be another two weeks before I knew what kind of surgery it would be. At least it gave me time to look into plastic surgeons for reconstruction.
Wednesday morning (December 28th) we were sleeping in when the doctor's office called. They received my genetic testing results. But how! I just had it redone the previous day! Come to find out, the original test WAS sent in. The only thing that wasn't done was a log update indicating it was put in the mail. Before my mind could clear enough to really understand what was going on she said my results were negative.
(As a reminder. Positive meant I would have a double mastectomy and total hysterectomy. Negative meant a lumpectomy.)
Jeff was catching only half the conversation but he was putting it together. His eyes were big but he was cautiously holding back. Once I hung up the phone and I repeated it to him, he was overwhelmed with happiness, just as I was.
It was a great day and we celebrated with a nice dinner that night. My dad and step-mom watched the kids for us. I've seen a lot more of dad since all of this, but that is another topic I want to write about. We'll save it for later.
You may wonder if Jeff was happy because I wouldn't be loosing my breasts. No, that wasn't it at all. Jeff knew how much I didn't want to go through a mastectomy and reconstruction. With plastic surgery I (or we, depending on how you look at it) could have enjoyed some nice "enhancements" to my figure, but I didn't want them. I wanted "me", and he knew how important that was.
This is how he has been through all of this. He doesn't make me feel like there is a right or wrong way to think or act. Whatever I do is the right thing for me and he supports me 100%. Boy, he must be getting tired.
- One day I just want to read the Internet and ignore the piles of information coming in the mail from the American Cancer Society and Susan G Komen. The next day I'm obsessed with organizing the material into a binder and am asking him to get it three-hole punched!
- One day I'm calling his cell phone from upstairs, asking him to set up a TV tray next to my bedside with all my gadgets, ice bags, and water. The next day I'm refusing to follow doctors orders and rest.
- One day I'm bushing my hair and moping about how long my curling iron will go untouched. The next day I'm getting 4 inches cut off and telling him I'm going blond for a few weeks.
- One day I'm frozen in front of Facebook not wanting to announce any of this. The next day I'm blogging not just what is going on, but how I feel about it and how he is reacting! Then I make him proof read for me.
WHEW! I LOVE YOU HONEY.
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