Decisions

So the ovaries must go.

The rest of my girl parts can stay if I decide I want them to.

As most of my friends and family know, I am not overly sentimental.  I am the opposite of a hoarder.  I put children's artwork in the recycling bin.

But at the rate that I am removing body parts, I am worried what will be left of me by the time I reach 50.

It is a very strange position to be in, and the decision has basically be left up to me.

There are risk factors to be weighed, time off from work to be considered, and percentages to be digested.  

And just for suspense,  tests to be run just to make sure I don't actually have the cancer I am trying to avoid.  (MOM - I don't - it is simply to put our minds at ease about how soon I need to go under the knife).

Doug and my Dr. spent a few minutes talking as if I was not in the room.  

The conversation rambled on and I am not sure who said what but a few things stood out to me.

"People with cancer just want to do whatever they can to reduce their risk factors".

"I just want her to have a clean slate, to have this behind her."

"People with cancer get tired of being defined by it..."

"She is tough"

And then I just started crying.

Tough my ass.