Intro

This blog's purpose is to chronicle my journey, which I think will be a means of catharsis for me, but the main reason I'm publishing it online is in hopes that it will raise BRCA genetic testing awareness and maybe even help others along their own journey. When it came time to make decisions regarding my medical care, I found that the blogs of other women in similar circumstances were the most helpful for me.

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Genetics w/ a Side of Shrinking

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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