Update: Race for the Cure, Walk for the Fundraiser

At Eatser dinner I told my dad that I was walking in the Race for the Cure and he asked if he could join me.  This meant so much to me.  Our family history of breast cancer is on his side, and his mother was a very proud survivor in an era when reconstruction was never an option, mastectomies could be compared to torture and men dominated the medical field.  However, it meant the most because it is the most personal thing my father and I have ever done together.  His eagerness to participate and be involved was really touching.

So the weekend comes.  I only raised $210.00, but it's about $160.00 more to stay here in Detroit than without me (75% of Race for the Cure proceeds stay in the city of the walk for local treatment and surveillance help).  I wanted to make Friday and early night, since I had to be up so early Saturday so the roommate and I went out for Happy Hour.  Can you imagine my surprise when I turn the corner and my sister from Florida is sitting there?!?!  She wanted to be a part of the event and together the three of us conquered the 5K (although walking in Detroit with 40,000 other participants, we likely walked at least 5 miles!).

Surveillance and high risk is not a blessing, but I still could not ask for more!

Being on the low end of high risk

Sometimes I really feel like I don't belong.  And before you reassure me that I'm a part of the high risk community, hear me out (because this isn't that post where I say I feel fat because I want everyone to reassure me I'm skinny and beautiful).

I attended my first FORCE meeting locally.  And it was lovely.  The women were lovely.  The conversation and exchange of ideas was lovely.  Aside from all of us facing cancer head on, it was lovely.  I was the only(known) uninformed negative there.  With the exception of one woman preparing to be tested, the rest of the women were positive and either completed surgeries, were scheduled for surgeries or were preparing for surgery.  Now, I know surgery isn't for me, right now.  The CGC (who was there and who also did my test) said it best: 

The difference between 25% and 85% risk isn't the path we take, it's how much time we assume we have to move along that path. 

I've realized that being negative is a blessing in many ways.  My family history wasn't as significant as that of the other women in the room, and I have time (cross your fingers, knock on wood, and whatever other heebie jeebie stuff you do for good luck) to make decisions.  I'm taking a proactive approach to my cancer screening and I'm doing everything right.  And I'm not complaining, well not usually.  I'm grateful to be of todays generation and not my grandmothers and I'm grateful for all of my Previvor Sisters.

But sometimes it's just downright lonely.  Women who have tested positive for the gene forget what it's like to be in that unknown but surveying stage.  And women who aren't high risk aren't being screened like I am.  Hell, at my age, the only screening my peers receive is at their Ob/Gyn appointment.  Sometimes I feel like the low end of the high risk community is a silent voice, a forgotten battle because most of the women in this recognized community are running a sprint, and well, us uninformed negatives are in it for the marathon.

Race for the Cure, Walk for the Fundraiser

Sadly, the 3 Day is out of reach this year.  I'm bummed, but glad I recruited some friends and family members to walk with me at the 20th annual Susan G Komen Race for the Cure!

Check out my fundraising page.  I give Be Bright Pink and FORCE some love too!

http://www.active.com/donate/detroitRFTC11/kimmilynn

How to explain your scars

Approximately every other month, every two months, someone posts on FORCE about how to explain all of this when you're dating.  When do you tell, I think is the biggest question for everyone who is single and high risk.  I think surgery or no surgery, anyone with scars faces the question even more.

So when do you tell?

My breasts have always been a large part of my identity, my transformation to womanhood, how I see myself.  Therefore, to me, my biopsy scar is extremely noticeable.  Granted, it's tiny in size, but in typical form, is raised, and definitely noticeable.  So do you say something in advance of the observation or wait and cross your fingers?  I dont' know.  How do you explain it when you do choose to?  What do you say?

And I don't even have to answer that yet LOL.  But I do know my biopsy has changed my social slash dating life.  How much would it change if I were BRCA positive and had more than a biopsy?  How different would my choices be if I hadn't had an biopsy or gone through all of this.  I guess we'll never know.

How to celebrate Valentines Day when you're Single and High Risk for Breast Cancer

Step 1.  Live with your best friend

Step 2.  Have your roomie make your favorite quiche for dinner

Step 3.  Pick up a bottle of wine very aptly named A Few Good Men to enjoy

Step 4.  Enjoy 

Step 5.  Once you're finished with A Few Good Men and ready for bed, Self Breast Exam!  LOL

I just realized tonight is my monthly night to SBE.  Looks like the girls will be getting some love after all :).

You've got boob mail!

So today I finally organized my mail.  My boob mail was separated into four categories:  hospital bills, Myriad bills, insurance statements and prescriptions/information.

Just an FYI for people who think women are crazy who ditch surveillance for a PBM.  This is just the envelopes that all of my boob mail came in for the last 3 months. 

Let me remind you, this is just a pile of envelopes - the mail has all been removed (and I've already organized and thrown away the first 3 months of envelopes and mail).

Superwoman=Previvor

Alicia Keys sings the line so beautifully: 

'Cause I'm a Superwoman, yes I am, yes she is, even when I'm a mess, I still put on a vest, with an S on my chest, oh yes, I'm a Superwoman.'

Truer words couldn't be spoken about women who wear their scars on their chests, proof that they too are Superwomen.  Daily, I look down at the pysical remains of my biopsy.  One straw-sized healing incinsion (soon to be scar) and a half dollar sized bruise.  Had either of these appeared anywhere else on my body, I probably would have never noticed, and if I had I would have no idea how I did that (I'm not exactly graceful).  But these two circles, these two tiny spots stare back at me, daily.  A daily reminder of Biopsy One. 

These two little spots, markers, alterations in my physical being change the way I see myself.  They change the way I feel about myself.  How will I see myself 5 years from now, 10, 20?  How many spots, markers alterations will I have then?  How will I feel about myself then?

They make me wonder, how many biopsy holes will I acquire in a lifetime?  If I make it through this life cancer free, how many tokens of surveillance will be left behind?  How different will my chest look on my last day even if I never have cancer, which is of course the best case scenario.  I contemplate buying a snug white shirt, and placing some sort of marker on my biopsy spot and recording my history externally like the pathologists mark my history internally.  A Previvor Souvenir if you will.

You see, that's why Previvors have a term, have a community, why our prevention choices don't matter in the long run (surveillance vs mastectomy).  We make not be sick, but we do have the scars to prove it.