Back to the scene of the crime

Today I went back to my OBGYN for my annual exam.  The last time I was there, I left with an appointment for my first, and, well, only mammogram.

I was asked to sign in, and was surprised to see a paper that I must have signed the last time I was in the office.  It was weird to think back to April 2010 and how so much changed since then. 

The person who signed that paper seemed like a stranger to me.

The visit was pretty straight forward.  In case you were wondering after you have a bilateral mastectomy you get to skip the whole breast exam business.  But as all us girls know, that is the easy part.

Since I was already at the hospital I decided to finally go to the genetics office. 

Back when I was knee deep in chemo I went and met with the genetics group.  I thought I was going in to see if for any reason they thought I carried the famous BRACA gene, since no one in my immediate family has had breast cancer I figured they would give me a cup of water and send me on my way.

So it was surprising to learn that there is actually a genetic link to Breast + Pancreatic Cancer.

And my genetic link is my father - who won the cancer lottery at 52 by being diagnosed with an uncurable cancer that usually rears its ugly head around 70.

For me Pancreatic Cancer is the monster under the bed, the slasher movie killer, the Grim Reaper. 

My blood was drawn so it could be sent off to Washington, so some unknown person could look at it under a microscope, so the results could then be transferred to my Dr, so I could have another appointment to learn if that monster under the bed is real.

As Doug said, "What a gloomy day you had".

And I cried, and cried, and cried.  Not for any reason other than yes, it was a gloomy day. 

But also because we are entering a new world now. 

And it is harder than I thought.