After my sister L tested positive for the BRCA 1 gene mutation I scheduled my test. By "scheduled my test" I mean harassed my PCP and OBGYN doctors by email until they sent a referral to the Genetics department at Kaiser. KP really didn't think about people like me when they debuted their online email system. Let's just say I'm a bit neurotic and have slight hypochondriac tendencies and by "a bit" and "slight" I mean "very" and "complete." My husband lovingly agrees.
I had a phone conversation with one of the genetic counselors who asked me extensive questions about my family background/health. She made me an appointment to meet with her and the genetic psychiatrist. Before you can actually get your blood drawn for the test, they have you meet with them. I met with the genetic psychiatrist first, who was very nice, but honestly I felt it was a bit of a waste of time. I didn't need a psychiatrist. I needed some facts and a phlebotomist. The psychiatrist asked me if I thought the test would come out positive or negative. I told her I was sure it'd be positive. I'd pretty much inherited every negative trait possible from each of my parents. She asked me if I had a plan, I said yes. I watched my sister battle cancer, successfully yes, but one that took casualties (her hair, a year of her life, piece of mind, etc). I would have both my breasts removed. My breasts weren't that important to me. No question.
Finally I met with the genetic counselor who gave me some pretty grim percentages and then sent me off to the lab with a BRCA testing kit. The lab was across the street but I didn't go. I was busy. I was getting ready for my belated honeymoon to Thailand and I just had SO much to do. Plus, I'd catch traffic if I stayed any later. I told myself I'd get to it later. There was no rush. Deep down, I was putting it off on purpose. As long as that little boxed kit remained on the floor of my car, I could continue on with my life in blissful ignorance.
I did finally get around to getting my blood drawn 10 days later.
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