gee whiz

Last July, insurance companies changed the criteria for covering genetic testing for a certain type of breast cancer patient. Those who have "triple negative" hormone receptors, a small percentage of breast cancer folk, seem to have a statistically significant risk for subsequent cancers. So at my most recent onco check-up, they suggested I take advantage of the new guidelines, and get tested. Chances are small that I'd be positive, especially since my only family history of breast cancer came from Grandma Ruby, who was diagnosed at age 104. For some reason, Grandma declined treatment.

Here is the statistical scene:
12% of American women will get breast cancer.
20% of those will be triple negative, bearing the more aggressive, less treatable type of cancer.
5% of those triple negative patients actually have the BRCA-2 gene mutation.
I learned yesterday that I have the mutation. Given how I have defied remarkable odds at every step of the way, I feel like maybe I should get a lottery ticket or something. I had up to an 87% chance of getting breast cancer from the time I drew my first breath.

The good news is that I can stop wondering about whether I ate too much Halloween candy, judged myself or others too harshly, enjoyed too many Cheetos, indulged in too many strips of crisp turkey skin on Thanksgiving, or just what I did to get cancer. I got born.

And am I glad I did! But gee whiz.

P.S. Good news for the medical geeks who follow this blog: my female plumbing, all the basement pipes and pumps, will be removed, soon. Gory details to follow.