Counting Days

So now I'm down to 13 days, 12 hours 50 minutes and so many seconds.  Not that anybody is counting.

I've been out and bought a nice pair of snuggly pj's and a new fluffy pair of slippers.  Hospitals can be so horribly cold, especially when you are bored to tears at night and can't sleep and you just want to walk around.

I'm spending more time online in the Pink Hope website at the moment now.  It makes me more happy about the decisions I have made with this BRCA1 thing.  I read horror stories about these poor ladies who weren't diagnosed in time or others that ignored the warnings and now it's too late.  Such a sad loss.  And reading the heartbreaking stories of the pain the family members are going through watching their beloved mother's hair fall out and knowing she has less than 6 months in your life!  I could not do that to my children, or my husband, or my family.

The hardest thing to get people to realise with this is that it's not a case of 'if' I get cancer, but a case of 'when' and I can't and won't live like that and I'm sure my family don't want me to either.  They would also have to sit there and wonder "is mum's scan going to show something this month".  I don't want that weight on their minds, not at their ages especially.

The reason I live and breathe every day.  I am so blessed to have a husband who wants to work hard to support his family and three of the most amazing human beings I will ever meet as my children.  They make me proud every single day with everything they do and with who they are.  They are the reason I chose not to fool around and take the risk that I 'might not' develop cancer, not when all the medical research showed that is was more a case of  "yes you will".