Cancer

                Yesterday, I spent three hours at the Vince Lombardi Cancer Center with my mom.  It was her first visit with the oncologist.  This was after the mammogram with the suspicious mass, after the biopsy to determine what the mass was, after the breast cancer diagnosis, and after the lumpectomy.  Things were looking great for mom.  The cancer was found extremely early, Stage 0, and had not invaded into the blood or lymph.  As of today, she is cancer-free.  But there’s a catch.  A really big, fat, ugly catch. 

                Prior to her lumpectomy, she was tested for a genetic mutation that puts her at high risk of having cancer again.  She was a strong candidate for the test because her mother and sister both died of this disease.  Last week, we found out she indeed has this mutation.  The brca1 (pronounced braca 1) mutation is a blessing and a curse.  A blessing because it gives mom a chance to be proactive as opposed to reactive.  A curse because of the resulting standard of care. 

                For mom, it means a bilateral mastectomy.  (Bilateral means both sides.)  She will also have her ovaries removed because the mutation puts her at significant increased risk for ovarian cancer.  In my mom’s words, she will become a “Frankenstein.”  She’s starting to accept it, though.  She’d do just about anything to ensure cancer will not return.  Cancer is very prevalent on both sides of my family.  Maybe it’s because both sides of my family are huge.  Or maybe it’s a southern Italian immigrant thing.

                  For me, it means I may be facing the same situation.  Tomorrow, I will go for a blood draw for this same genetic test.  I have a 50% chance of having the brca1 mutation.  If I do, my daughter has a 50% chance of having it as well.  The good news is if I don’t have it, I can’t be a carrier.  Keep your fingers crossed that I don’t!  As much as I complain about them, I really like having my boobs.  It would be heartbreaking to part with the part of my body that nourished my baby for her first year. 

Me with my mom and dad, husband and daughter after finishing my first marathon.

                It was a lot to take in at the doctor’s office yesterday.  I didn’t have a chance to process it until today’s run, a run I didn’t want to do.  I’ve been sick since I’ve been in town and just wasn’t feeling it.  Almost every ounce of my being told me not to run, but luckily, I’m painfully disciplined about getting my workouts in.  I drove to the north side and parked at an apartment complex.  Even after the car was turned off, I was trying to convince myself not to go.  These demons who want me to feel worse were very strong today.  But I knew I had to get out of the car and run for my own sanity.  So I did. 

                I ran alone in Petrifying Springs Park, my new favorite place to run in town.  While I was running I thought about how happy running makes me.  For so many reasons, running makes me happy.  The friends, the sight-seeing, the heart health, the sense of calm and confidence it instills . . . these are just a few.  As I followed the path, I found myself wishing my mom could be a runner.  I wished she could get all of the endless benefits I get from running.  I think about how much it would help her mind and her well-being.  It would give her a powerful tool for coping.  She would be a happier person.  Yet, I cannot picture it.  I don’t see mom as a runner or even a jogger.  I wonder if I can trick her into becoming one.  For example, give her a treadmill workout and plug in 1 minute jogs here or there.  (It’s amazing the things that seem like great ideas when I’m in the middle of a run.)  As I type it, I know it will never happen.  She wouldn’t find the support system here that I so strongly depend on back in Minneapolis.  There isn’t a running club here that would be sensitive to her needs.  Still, I wish her the benefits of running.  I wish I could take everything I gain from a run and give it to her as a gift. 

                For all of us runners out there, let’s be grateful that we can run.  We keep our minds and bodies in a very positive place because of the miles we log.  Not everyone can do what we’re able to do.  We should be thankful we get to enjoy all the gifts running gives to us.