I came home from chemo on Tuesday and sat on the couch and pulled my hair out in handfuls.  I put the hair in a bowl.  It took some time.

It didn’t hurt coming out.  It just…went.

I had some fringe for a couple of days around my temples and my sideburns stayed a couple of extra days.  It was funny.

I now have this fuzz left all over my noggin.  Like duck fuzz.  It’s funny.

I was worried my head was going to be dented and bumpy and ugly.  But it’s actually quite round and smooth.  Not at all the denty mess I was expecting.  And my scalp is very white.  I do have some spots and freckles and moles and things but it isn’t unattractive.

Now I know something I never wanted to know.

I have a nice shaped bald head.

I think the best thing is that it all happened in steps.  Before the surgery, my hair was past my shoulders.  That was cut to a bob after surgery when it became apparent that brushing long hair in my new state would be difficult.  Then three weeks before chemo, I got a short pixie boy cut.  People told me I look like Ginnifer Goodwin.

My scalp began to itch a few days after chemo and I was done.  I woke up one morning and my husband and I buzzed it to about an inch all around.

I think it was good for the boys to see it go in stages.  I know it was good for me to do it that way.

How vain, right?  How vain!  It’s just hair.  Who cares?

I freaking care.  I care.  I loved my hair.  I have been obsessed with my hair.  My hair has been a full time job and it is a part of me.  A huge part of my identity and it would be an absolute charade to pretend otherwise.

I really enjoyed pulling it out.  I enjoyed taking charge of the whole thing.  And now it is gone and I am ok.

But you know, even now, a newly bald head is tricky to care for.  Because there are weird dry patches and something called sebum (ewwww!) and the skin itself is quite vulnerable.

So here is what I have been doing to take care of my poor sweet round head.

In the shower, first I exfoliate with a nice honey scrub, then I wash my whole scalp with my fancy pants Brazillian Blowout Shampoo because it feels nice and smells like oranges.  Then I condition it with the fancy pants Brazillian Blowout Conditioner for the same reason. Perhaps i should save that fancy pants stuff but the smell is really comforting so I am using it.  And after all, who doesn’t like an orange scented head?  After all that, I moisturize with Egyptian Magic, a cream that was recommended by my new friend Becky from my breast cancer support group.  I am trying to avoid moisturizers with parabens and all that bad stuff and the Egyptian Magic is olive oil and honey and beeswax and stuff.  I just rub it right in.  I sleep with a cotton cap at night to keep my head warm and comfy.  I remoisturize whenever I feel the need.

I have not gone out uncovered yet but my understanding is that I should wear a good sunscreen (which is tricky since I am allergic to most sunscreen) and just keep moisturizing.

I am hoping that eventually my fuzzy head turns into a shiny head.  We will see.  Becky also said to sit outside for 5 or 10 minutes a day without suncreen to build a base tan on my chrome dome but I’m staying out of the sun for now.

My scalp still hurts so I’m just going to baby it awhile.

And I am enjoying messing with wigs and scarves and hats and figuring out what works for me.  It’s going to be months of baldness, I might as well take charge.

I also went to a “Look Good, Feel Better” class in June.  The American Cancer Society does a nice job with this.  I received a tote full of very nice makeup that I have actually used quite regularly (my favorite is this awesome blush stick by Shiseido, I will buy one when this one runs out, it’s that good!).  I learned some make up tricks (drawing on eyebrows will be coming soon I think!  Whooppie)! I did not know and though I don’t normally wear a ton of makeup, I have found the new “Look Good, Feel Better” philosophy helps.  I may be bald and swollen from steroids, I may feel like absolute poop… but a little lipstick and eyeliner actually can brighten my entire outlook when I need it.  Maybe just a little.

I never knew what a vain person I was until I got cancer.  Or maybe it’s just that I feel so bad that I only have one way to go.  Regardless, it’s working for me.  It’s getting me through.

Makeup and a lot of moisturizer.

People, I can not tell you how important it is to have an oncologist who listens to you.  My husband and I met with her the evening before the 2nd treatment and gave her the lowdown of our first experience.  She made some adjustments and they seem to have made a huge difference.

Don’t get me wrong, I still got nauseated.  But it didn’t hit me until yesterday, day 4, instead of day 1.  I have not been as weepy or as angsty.  I have not been crazy talking and mean.  I have been really, really, really tired.

Like REALLY tired.

Most of my hair fell out on Wednesday.  I still have wispy pieces that are holding on so I kind of look like Gollum.  I am considering shaving the remainder but have heard about itching and irritation and I really don’t feel like dealing with that on top of everything else.  My head itched like crazy for two weeks before it all came out and it has been a relief to be itch free for a couple of days.  I have been wearing a lot of hats.  Wigs are too hot, itchy and uncomfortable.  I don’t think I am going to be a wig person.

I had some stress.  Some adoptee stress that was purely my issue.  My birth family was in town and my mom is here helping out and even though it has been six years since my reunion, my two families have not met.  And to be honest, I am happy that way.  I was getting very stressed and weepy about the prospect of a meeting the day after I had chemo and we found a solution that worked for me.  I don’t know how well it worked for everyone else but it worked for me and it was what I needed and it relieved a great deal of my stress and anxiety.  And even now it seems crappy of me to feel this way as a 40 year-old grown woman but it is what it is and I could not deal.  I have spent most of my life trying to please everyone around me and it was nice to be nurtured.  I need a lot of nurturing right now.  I am not even close to being as strong as people keep telling me I am.

This is a hard road to walk.  I can feel myself disappearing.  I look in the mirror and I don’t see me.  I don’t know what I see anymore.  I am just putting one foot in front of the other and hoping I make it out with some kind of semblance of myself.

Three months ago, I was at Disneyland.  Where am I now?

I’ve been feeling really good the past couple of days.  Still tired, but good.

And all I can think is that this is a gift that I need to savor.

The bad begins again on Tuesday but today I feel good and that is my focus.

Someone asked me how I am feeling and that is what I told them.  Today is a gift.

I cried a little when I said the words.

Today is a gift.

There is truly nothing like having the wind knocked out of you to make you appreciate the gift of being healthy.

And people, I am healthy and strong and cancer free.  All this I am doing is in order to give me the best chance of keeping me this way.

I am looking for the gifts in my life.  My little boys wanting to spend time with me.  My dear friend telling me she loved me today.  An old acquaintance sending me a card telling me that her family keeps me in their nightly prayers. My husband holding my hand and making me laugh out loud on the sidewalk. Gifts.

Today is a good day.

All the complaining.  Bellyaching.

Now I understand that many blog for therapy.  They just want to get it out there.  I do that too. I know I do.  But a lot of blogs just piss me off with all their first world problems.

But guess what?

This is going to be a complaining post because I have had one heck of a week.

The only positive point to this whole thing is that I don’t remember much of it.

I was mostly upright on Wednesday after chemo.  I functioned.  I was a little nauseous but I held my own.  We even made it to our favorite comic book store.  I even stopped at a bakery and got my son his favorite bread.

Thursday was worse.  I made it to PT.  I made it to acupuncture by the skin of my teeth.  I drove but I now realize I shouldn’t have been driving.  I was not safe.  I had major chemo brain.  I was in a fog.

I ate a McDonald’s cheeseburger that day.  that’s how crazy out of my mind I was.  I picked my kids up from school but then I yelled at the little one for being a sasafrass when he saw my McDonald’s cup and started bitching that I didn’t get him any.

We got home and I fell apart.  The back of my head got all swollen from the steroids I was taking.  I freaking hate steroids.  Thank goodness for icepacks and painkillers but then I fell asleep and got behind on my nausea meds…and then I was in a bit of trouble.

Friday….Friday. I slept all day.  I did not get out of bed Friday.  And people kept calling.  And for some reason, even though my mom and my husband were in the house, the boys kept waking me up trying to get me to talk to people on the freakin’ phone!

“I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO ANYBODY!!!!  LEAVE ME ALONE!!”

Great mom moment, eh?

Saturday, I was mopey…and still nauseous.  “Leave me alone.” I whispered quietly, “Just leave me alone.”

Sunday I felt better but then I cried all day because I realized how awful the past few days had been.  my memory of them is mostly blurry, muddled, miserable.

Monday was better but now I began to feel fear.  I have to do this all over again in a week.

I called the oncology nurse and complained about my nausea which she assured me would dissipate soon.  “Suck on hard candy.” she suggested.  I asked her how people do this.  How they drag themselves back in for another treatment.  She said they just do it.

I will do it.  But man!  This is really, really hard.

Apparently the first few days I speak nonsense and insult my family members arbitrarily.  I have no recollection of this.  Apparently, my sparkling personality turns a bit dark on chemo brain.

At one point, my husband was trying to get me to watch this movie with him.  I kept saying  “I DO NOT WANT TO WATCH THAT MOVIE!!!!”.  repeatedly.  And he wouldn’t listen!  And he kept insisting we watch it and I was getting more and more frustrated and teary and panicy.  Why was he going to make me watch a movie I hate?  Why did he want to torture me?

He backed away when I really started bawling.  He looked confused.

It turns out that while I thought I was saying, “I do not want to watch that movie.”  I was actually saying, “I want to watch that movie with you!!!”

Uh…yeah.  That is just screwy.

So of course husband was perplexed at my vehement reaction to him turning on that movie especially since I was insisting I wanted to watch it with him!

What can I say, my brain is sensitive…and my husband?  The man is a saint.  A freakin’ saint!  He is the glue holding us all together.  Someone needs to give that guy a million bucks.  Thank God for him.  Seriously.

What happened is not too unusual.  I used to do that kind of stuff when I was a kid in my sleep.  One time, I walked into the pantry and pulled out a box of pretzels and walked into my brother’s room.  I remember him asking me why I was holding pretzels at 9:30 at night.  I insisted I was not holding pretzels.  My parent found me huddled on the floor cradling the box in my arms all the while insisting I had NO PRETZELS!!

I am weird.

This has been a tough week.  Today was better.  Now my scalp is itching and when i itch it, a few hairs come out.  I still have a full head of hair but it will be gone soon.  The oncologist predicted day 15 from the first chemo.

I hope this mean the chemo is working.

Itch. Itch. Itch.

My hair, whatever, I am ready to buzz it.  I am so over it.  And I am sad.  But I will survive to fight another day.  I’m already wearing headscarves.  I tell people I’m pretending to be bald.

What are they going to say about it?

Three more rounds of AC chemo.  I hope I keep my head.

The day went allright.  I took an Ativan about 45 minutes before we left so I was pretty calm.

Oh Ativan, how I adore you.

It is truly a wonderdrug.  It can treat pain, nausea, anxiety and sleeplessness.

The only drawback is that it is addictive.  Bummer.

I took pictures,  they are on my phone.  I’m not sure how to get them onto this computer since it is my husband’s and my mom is staying in the room where I keep my computer and unfortunately, my mom is sick with the stomach bug the boys had.

I told her to wear a mask.  I’m just saying.

It probably also didn’t help that she was using the same bathroom as the boys.

I just brought her some tea and animal crackers and a big bottle of Pepto.  I hope she will soon be past the worst of it.

So back to my time in the infusion room: It went pretty well.  The nurse liked my port and said the surgeon did  good job with it.  It worked nicely.  I got a bunch of precare stuff in my IV including this anti nausea drug called Emend that is supposed to really help.

I was scared of the adriamycin but it wasn’t so bad.  I remember seeing the “Ann Jillian Story”* back in the eighties and Ann making all those faces because the medicine tasted bad going in.

* The Oncology nurse told us that she hated that movies because it made chemo look so awful…well it kind of was back then in the eighties, wasn’t it? It kind of is now.

I ate sour patch kids throughout the injection of two huge syringes full of red stuff.  I didn’t taste a thing.

The second medicine Cytoxin was given through IV.  It gave me a sinus headache that wasn’t great but liveable.

When we got up to leave, I was foggy.

We stopped at the wig store so I could get that wig halo I wanted and this cute sun hat.  By that time, my face was green.

I went home and slept.  I slept in my recliner and drooled on myself.  I slept in my bed the whole night through.

Now today after more anti nausea meds and a good old steroid, I am functioning.  Not fantastic by any means but functioning.

I am drinking some chicken broth, I made in advance.  Made it myself from a chicken  carcass!  In my crock pot. Aren’t I a clever girl?

And…we just got home to find a big box of pizza from my good friend Rachel and her husband and beautiful daughter.  Pizza from Chicago and an apple pie!

My brother sent me Chicago pizza last week too so this is just a bonus of love!

And now I am a little teary because I can’t believe how generous and kind my friends are towards me.

I love you all so much.

Please continue to send my your love and good thoughts and if you are so inclined, your prayers.

I think of each and every one of you every day.

Chemo starts tomorrow.  I am scared.  I am making myself stop reading the internet.  It’s strange.  People getting the same chemo regimen have different side effects.  It seems some get sick on Day 3, some get sick on Day 5.  Some can’t get out of bed, others can function.  I don’t understand how it can be such a different experience for people.

Of course, I am fully expecting to get hit hard.  I am hoping I don’t but I am expecting it.

My kids both got a nasty stomach bug.  The eldest came down with it early Friday morning.  It was bad.  Lot’s of sickness.  Then it was over.

Last night, as I was falling asleep, I heard the youngest talking in his sleep and moaning.  Uh oh.  I hoped he wasn’t getting it.  He did.

Violently ill for most of the night that boy.  My husband took care of it all.  I felt bad.  I can’t risk getting sick.  Right now, I am sitting here typing with a mask on.

We have some bad luck.

My friend arranged for cleaners to come.  They will be here while I am getting chemo.  At least I will have a clean house to come home to.

Today, we are tidying.  I took down all of the “Get Well” cards from the mantle and window sill so they can be cleaned.  Wow! I got a lot of cards.  Some people sent me two cards.  One person sent me three.

All I can say is, Thank you, thank you.  Those cards have given me a lot of comfort and hope.  Words can not describe how grateful I am for the support I have received.  I plan to do something crafty with those cards but for now I have them in a pretty bag in my room.  I feel happy just thinking about them.

I really have nothing to write today other than that I am very scared…and worried.  But I know this is just something I have to get through. Just like everything else.

A part of me is still hoping I wake up from this very bad dream.

Tomorrow, I will put on my big girl pants and go sit in a chair and take my medicine.  If you can, please think of me.

I am mostly ok.

I had my “chemo teach” on Tuesday.  It was very informative and also scary.  I was so nervous sitting there with the nurse that I was worried I might barf on her, and I haven’t even begun treatment.

I did let her know that I am a puker.  It’s true.  It does not take much to make me toss my cookies.

My husband was there too.  He is very supportive but still, it is tough.

Before they even do the chemo, i get an hour of infusing fun stuff like steroids and anti nausea medication.  Then the tough stuff happens.

Adriamycin is not given through I.V. infusion.  Did you know this?  I didn’t.  Apparently, it is a shot directly into my port.  That takes about thirty minutes because they go slow and draw blood every few minutes to make sure the port is working.  Because if the port isn’t working and the drug gets into the tissues, that could be bad.  Then I get the Cytoxan infusion style.

The nurse took us through the infusion room at the end.  My husband walked through and saw people chilling out seeming to enjoy themselves.  He was feeling good about it and then he turned around me and saw me…crying.

I am so scared of chemo.

But I will get through it.  I’ve said it to my other friends, five year olds get through chemo.  Heck, there are infants who get through chemo.  I can not complain.

Wednesday morning, I got my hair cut…again.  Yes again.  my oncologist told me to cut it short.  Because it makes the transition to being bald easier.  So now I have a pixie cut.  It would be cute were it not for my chubby face.  The hair cut will make things easier because I do not love it and I truly did love my long hair.

Thursday, I had my port placed.  Another strange experience.  The nurse had a hard time finding a vein to get an i.v. started.  “I can see why you are getting a port.” he told me.

My arm is still kind of bruised from that lovely experience.

So they took me to the operating room and put me on the table and I was ok.  They made me look to the left and they washed off my right clavicle  area.  Then they draped this big sheet thing over me that had a hole in it only at the site where the port was going in.  They covered my face with the sheet and then made a little tent but essentially I was transformed into a clavicle.

Then it took awhile for the doctor to get there and everyone in the OR was kind of standing around talking and joking and ignoring the woman under the sheet aka me.  It would have been disturbing if my ego was bigger but I just thought it was interesting.  It’s like that drape of sheet made me a nonperson in that room.  I mean I was fully awake but had this sheet over me so it was like I didn’t exist.  When the nurse finally checked on me I smiled and said “Peek-a-boo.”  I think this threw her a little.

Eventually the doctor showed up and introduced himself to me.  They started some sleepy medicine but he also gave me all these shots in the clavicle too that I totally felt!  Ow!  And then I fell asleep for a little and then I woke up and it was over.

Back in recovery, they gave me a turkey sandwich, made me walk around and then sent me home.  I was fine as can be and then I got teary in the car because I wanted to go to Bed Bath and Beyond (long story) and my husband wasn’t going to take me and then he took me.

And then we got home and I had another mini-meltdown because I was hungry and I wanted pasta right then and I got all teary about it.

I think it was the sleepy medicine wearing off.  I hope cancer doesn’t turn me into a diva. Maybe it’s too late.

I felt better later that night and watched the finale of The Office with my love.

The next day was my son’s birthday.  I woke up with a literal pain in my neck from that port.  Felt sore all day but I think my son had a good time and that is what matters.

My neck still hurts today but it is manageable.  Funny thing is, I am noticing that the mastectomy healing has really improved.  My arm feels much better.  I am so relieved.

My first chemo is scheduled for Tuesday, May 28.  The day after Memorial Day.  I plotted it all out on the calendar and it looks like my last Taxol treatment will be the day after Labor Day.  So it looks like my summer is going to be pretty full.  If you are reading this and you know me, please don’t forget about me or my boys this summer.  We are really going to need a lot of help to get through this.  We have family helping but we always need our friends.

As always, thanks for following along as I go through this.

I defriended someone this week on facebook and in real life.  She posted something after the Angelina Jolie reveal about how cancer can just be avoided with diet.

And I call bullshit.

Yes I do.

You mean to tell me that after a person takes a test that says they have an 87% chance of getting breast cancer in their lifetime that your advice is to ignore that significant and scientifically proven risk and simply change everything by eating better?!  Really?!

I will say it again, bullshit.

Is diet important?  Of course it is.  Of course it is.  I have always tried to be a good eater, especially in the last few years.  I understand that diet can improve many aspects of your life. Nobody understands that better than me.

But diet is only one piece to the puzzle and it is reckless and irresponsible for any person in the medical community, holistic or otherwise to advise people that they can beat the BRCA gene with their diet.

As you know, I learned earlier this month that I do not have BRCA mutations in my DNA.  However.  I do have a strong family history of cancer.  I only learned of this history six years ago but it is undeniable regardless.  Both of my biological parents have had cancer at young ages.  My biological father and one biological grandmother died of cancer before reaching the age of fifty.  I learned six years ago that genetically, the odds were against me.  If someone in my immediate family was going to get cancer, it would most likely be me.

And I changed my diet significantly in the last several years.  I started taking supplements, I started exercising more.  And I still got cancer.

And now let’s talk about what probably was the most significant factor for me developing cancer at a young age, my environment.  First, I grew up in the seventies in a small town not far from a major city and very close to a town full of steel mills.  My town was rumored to house at least one Superfund site at the time I was living there, maybe two. And I saw enough pollution.  I saw it with my own eyes. When I was fifteen, some friends took us to what was called The Abandoned Tire Factory, deep in this woodsy area.  It was just as I said it was, a big old abandoned building.  Kids played paintball there.  And next to it, in the middle of the woods was the biggest pit you’ve ever seen, filled to the brim with old tires, and people, those tires were on fire.  Now I couldn’t see the fire, all I saw was tens of thousands of old tires.  A HUGE pit of tires.  But I saw smoke.   A line of thick black smoke coming from the tires.  According to those in the know, the smoke came up perpetually, eternally, rain or shine, sleet or snow.

And our whole town was breathing it.

“That can’t be good.” I thought to myself.

My mom still lives in my hometown, a known hotbed of cancer.  A lot of people get kidney cancer in my hometown.  A disproportionate amount of people in fact.  Kidney cancer killed my band teacher, it killed our neighbor, it killed my dad and many, many of his friends.  It’s crazy how many people are dying of kidney cancer over there.  There are other cancers too but for some reason, kidney cancer is a big one in my home town.

So here’s the thing, my mom announced at her church that I had breast cancer and she asked people to pray for me and after church, she told me that at least five members of her congregation came to her and told her that their daughters some my age, some younger, are fighting breast cancer right now too, just like me.

“That can’t be good.” I thought to myself when she told me this.

It isn’t.

Because this cancer, that used to get the “old people”, now it’s coming for the young ones too.

But it’s not just Indiana.

Just for fun I looked up Superfund sites in the county I live in right now.  And in Santa Clara County, right now there are 23 active Superfund sites.  TWENTY-THREE.  No amount of good eating is going to change the fact that I live in a toxic waste dump of a county.  TWENTY-THREE STINKING SUPERFUND SITES just in my county!!!

So yeah, go ahead.  Go ahead and tell me I caused my own cancer because I ate McDonald’s or drank diet soda.  I hope it makes you feel superior when you are eating, living and breathing on a Superfund site full of toxic crap and calling it home.

I was born with a bad  genetic set up I didn’t know about until I was 34 years old.  I grew up next to toxic waste sites surrounded by people who smoked in the home (one of my earliest memories is playing Go Fish with my grandma while she smoked her filter-less Camels).  I went to college in a town infamous for large amount of PCB’s in the air and water (Google Superfund sites in Bloomington, Indiana…YIKES).  I lived in a large city after college and then I spent my last thirteen years in the Silicon Valley or what I now lovingly refer to as toxic town.

But if you want to think that all this cancer that is getting everybody an be prevented with an organic diet and supplements…well good luck with that.

I am glad you feel superior to the likes of me and Angelina Jolie.  Sheesh, the woman just wants to give herself a chance to be there for her hot man and their many children.  But according to some, she should have ignored her high risk and her environment (16 Superfund sites in Los Angeles County! WOOT!) and just changed her diet.

Whatever, that is just bullshit.

Angelina Jolie wrote this beautiful piece that was published yesterday about her decision to have a double mastectomy with reconstruction.  She currently does not have breast cancer but learned that she, like her mother  who died several years ago from ovarian cancer, has a genetic mutation on the BRCA1 strand that predicts her chances of breast and ovarian cancer at extremely high risk.

I liked her piece and I respect her decision.  I can not imagine it was an easy one, especially for someone who lives in the spotlight and has a successful career, in part, because for her gorgeous appearance.

Not don’t get me wrong, Angeline Jolie is not my favorite celebrity.  While I appreciate the good work she does around the world as a Unicef ambassador, I don’t appreciate or relate to her on many other levels.

Anyway, what I can not believe is the flack people are giving her in the comments section.  There seem to be a large faction of “fans” claiming Jolie had the mastectomy purely for publicity.  This is after she described her post surgery ordeal with the ubiquitous Tubes and Drains.

All I can say is, people, get real.

This is a woman who can generate publicity by smooching her brother, or wearing her lover’s blood in a necklace.  Heck, really, all she needs to do is stick her leg out like a moron and the whole world is talking about her.

Publicity?

No.

This stuff hurts, man!  It hurts like a mofo!  I’m almost 4 weeks out and it still hurts a lot.

There is no way Angeline Jolie had a mastectomy for publicity.

She can chew gum and get publicity.

Some of the comments were about the reconstruction process.  Like it’ so easy.  People, it is anything but easy.  These tissue expanders, the ones Angelina got, the same one, I got, they are not comfortable.  Just imagine the doctor inserting a baggie like contraption into your pectoral muscles and then once a week inserting a needle,  filling that baggie with saline and ssttrrreettccchhhiinngg the muscle.

It’s awful.

And the edges of those expanders…ugh!  Beyond uncomfortable at times.  Sometimes they just dig into your chest.  Sometimes, the muscles rebel and it feels like and elephant is sitting on your chest.  Sometimes it feels like you are wearing a too tight bra made of some kind of heavy metal when you’re really just in your pajamas. It’s insane!

Angelina endured weeks of the crap, just like I am.  Seriously, I just looked down I can see my pectoral muscles contracting right now through my clothing.  This is not fun.

And then three months later, she had a second surgery to put an implant into the stretched out muscle.  And then…more tubes and drains!

Now I’m sure Angelina had a nurse to empty her tubes and drains although it is nice to imagine Brad doing it for her the way my dear hubby took care of mine.  And she has a staff to keep her children entertained while she recuperates.  But nurse or not, I can tell you a bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction is not a walk in the park.

I’m going to physical therapy once a week to strengthen and rehab my arm from this surgery.  I’m still taking pain killers.  I can’t drive!  I am at the mercy of my friends and family to get me through this.

I’m sure Angelina’s staff has got her back but still, that surgery is really freaking hard!

It is a big, big choice.

And people think she did it for publicity?  How silly.

Yes, I admit I am a little envious.  I wish I could do what Angelina did.  I wish I had some test that had told me I was at risk for this horrible disease because as you know, unlike Angelina, I still have some work to do before I can switch out my expanders for some new guns.

Chemo…radiation…more surgery… blah, enough about me!

If I could have saved myself the things I am going to endure this summer with a test that could predict an 87% risk a few years ago instead of where I am today as a Stage 3C cancer patient, heck yes, I would have taken that test years ago, had the surgery and counted myself fortunate.

One genius in the comments I read on CNN disagreed with Jolie’s decision saying that instead of a mastectomy, she should have chosen to get more frequent mammograms, after all, she certainly could afford them.  But what people seem to forget is that mammograms ARE full of radiation themselves.  They are not something anyone should be getting every six months, especially if they already know they have a high risk of developing breast cancer, duh!

I don’t know why the commenters annoyed me so much. I don’t really make it a habit to defend celebrities.  I guess it’s because I am living this thing and I am only three years older than Angelina Jolie.  My birthmother and I are both living this cancer nightmare despite the fact that I am BRCA negative.  If there had been a test that could have saved my life without involving the Hell I am in for, I would have taken it and gladly had the same procedure Angelina Jolie.

Angelina made a tough decision.  But she did it because she is a mama and she wants to be there for her kids.  Just like I do.  Just like we all do.

And while she has never been exactly my favorite celebrity, today she is my sister because we share a very surreal experience that is equal parts horrific and hope inducing.

The day of my surgery to remove the 5cm cancerous growth from my breast was the day my doctors and I could say Hell no, Cancer.  You’re not getting me today.  Not today.

Can you imagine being perfectly healthy and taking a test that predicts and 87% chance of you contracting breast cancer in your lifetime?

What would you do?

You know what I would do.

And Angelina?  All I can say is that is one strong lady.