The Naomi's

"Ms. Jennings, your ovaries look beautiful."

Blush, blush.   How sweet of her.

Another attribute of carrying the BRCA II gene, is that you have a 26% chance of developing ovarian cancer by the age of seventy.  So last weekend when I had the house to myself and had a bit too much downtime to think, I convinced myself that I had ovarian cancer.  The symptoms of ovarian cancern are subtle and it's not something that is easily caught.  Many times, by the time you think something is wrong, the prognosis is not good.

But all is good.  They are beautiful and I can stop worrying about them for now.  I'm still probably going to lose them in a year or so.  Although, they are beautiful, no one likes them.  They are volatile and pose a threat.  They are like Naomi Campbell.  "Watch out bitch!  Don't make my ovaries come over there and smack you with this hotel phone!"   

Sorry, that seemed kind of funny to me.

More than likely around the same time I'm having my areoles tattooed back on (I hear that mint green is very popular this season), I'll be having a longer conversation with the team of doctors about the Naomi's and how they are trying to kill me.  Nothing like being thrown into menopause in my mid-thirties.  Woot, woot.

But all is good for now.  My mastectomies surgery is next week, the family is in town for some fun this weekend, one of my dear sweet besties has organized a meal train that should have us sitting fat and happy for the next few weeks, and I powered down everything  at the office.  I couldn't ask for a better family, team of doctors, coworkers and friends.  I appreciate each and everyone of you and thank you for all that you are doing for me.