Tags

,

Thank ya’ll so, so much for your comments on my previous post. Last week was disgusting… not gonna lie. But reading your kind & compassionate words was like being in my own little room of virtual hugs. I’ve been a horrific bloggy friend lately… all take-take-take with no comments in return. But please know that ya’ll are so, so incredibly appreciated.  Really, you are wonderful. Thank you.

Today was (finally) the appt with the new RE. He’s actually a D.O. rather than an M.D… I was a little fuzzy on the difference until I came home and read a bit. Apparently a DO is a doctor of osteopathy, & has a more holistic approach than a traditional MD. Random fact of the day.

His bedside (or deskside) manner was much better than RE #1. Not touchy-feely by any means, but very engaged in our case. During our $240 appt with the previous RE, he talked at (not to) us for 45 minutes and sent us on our way. During our appt with this guy, he got a thorough history, did an exam, ordered labs, pulled my records from the obgyn’s office, and helped pin down an approximate plan. Much better use of 40 minutes, I must say.

So ok.

Action Plan:
I’m going in for blood work this week.  He wants to wait a full cycle for my innards to recover completely from BabyLoss #3… I don’t wanna wait (of course), but I see the logic behind this. Then I’m to come in during the October cycle for more testing. He estimates that he’ll have enough data to implement a treatment plan by November. Having a plan, good. Not doing anything until Nov, bad.

He also recommended an infertility program sponsored by the fertility center called Mind/Body that teaches relaxation techniques. As I sat there strumming in my chair like a violin string, he said he felt that I would be a good candidate. No idea why he would think that.

Genetics 101:
Ok, now for the bad stuff. He is really, REALLY into genetic testing. When I mentioned that my mother had died of breast cancer at age 50, you could practically see red flashing lights going off in his little brain. See, there’s this gene known as BRCA that’s been linked to breast cancer. And if you have it, you have a really good chance of being screwed. My sisters and I have been approached several times about having the test done, but we’ve resisted… I had pretty much decided that I absolutely didn’t want to know.

But Doctor-Man is all about the BRCA test. He wanted to know if Mama was tested. Was she a carrier? If she was, there’s a 50% chance that she passed it to me (& Jennifer & Sue). And if I have it, there’s a 50% chance that I’ll pass it on to my children. Oh, and there’s a really good chance I’ll get breast cancer. He used words like “ovarian ultrasounds” and “preventative ovarian removal” and “preventative mastectomy” and “breast reconstruction.” I thought my heart was going to freeze right over into an icy-cold chunk in my (currently breast cancer-free) chest.

So he gave me  homework assignment of finding out whether Mama was tested for BRCA, and if so, was she a carrier. I have no idea where to even start. Do oncologists keep records of past (dead) patients? If I ask Daddy, he’ll say “BR-whaaat?!” He hasn’t a clue. Plus he would get all freaked out and started calling nonstop trying to figure out which one of us is going to get cancer and die, and that would just make this entire process even more distasteful. So no father involvement, for now at least.

Doctor-Man said that if I carry the BRCA gene, or if Bobby & I both carry the cystic fibrosis gene, that he is super-talented at genetic selection through IVF. Oh dear lord, please oh please don’t let that be our only option of reproducing.

Conclusion:
Do I feel better? Yes, I like having a plan, even if I don’t like the plan itself (which happens to consist of a whole lotta waiting).

Do I feel more hopeful? Um, not really… I went in worried about infertility and came out worried about infertility and breast cancer and genetic testing. Ah, the joy of doctors.

But am I glad I went? Hells, yeah. Absolutely, 100% glad that we took the next step.

Thank ya’ll again. So, so much.

Advertisements