A Surgical Strike

Next on the list of to-dos was a meeting with my surgical team. My parents were in town to enjoy their grandkids while they had some time on spring break. Lucky timing for me, I guess.

The hour-long meeting with the surgical team flew by. We walked in with two pages of questions and were so overwhelmed by the amount of information presented that we could barely read off three questions from our sheet of paper. The team was caring and forthcoming and practical in how they address the diagnosis. With DCIS, you can over treat it- by removing the lump or the entire breast – or you can undertreat it- by waiting and watching it. There are no guarantees that DCIS will ever turn into an invasive cancer (a cancer that spreads), and there are no predictors. I could live the rest of my life with the same amount of DCIS in my body, or it could turn into invasive cancer. There is no way of knowing.

The doctors at Swedish Issaquah laid out the options, and we decided to wait to do some genetic testing and another biopsy. My surgeon’s priorities and my priorities lined up – we both intent to cure me of this. She is somewhat of a perfectionist, so, as my husband pointed out, we line up well.

I took a genetic test as well. The test, which consisted of spitting a lot in a tube, would be sent away to test 29 markers for cancers of all different types. The most important ones for this part of my life are the braccia1 and braccia2 markers, which if I have them, you will have 84-87% chance of developing breast cancer in my lifetime. So if that comes back positive, both boobs will have to go. At first my husband was not convinced that this test was needed. It would just likely cause more stress because you would know that you could get a particular cancer. But in the end, its my body and my decision, so I took the test.