My gyn doc told me this morning that she would like to take my ovaries when she does the hysterectomy; basically because of my breast cancer history combined with how aggressive the cervical cancer/pre-cancer cells have been. She’s going to have a conversation with my oncologist and get back to me.

I’m trying to absorb it. Immediately after the appointment, I broke down in the parking lot. I’m 38 years old. I’ve had more than my fair share of health issues. I don’t want to go into menopause at 38. I don’t want to keep losing all my female parts. I’m sad. So very sad. And angry. Absolutely furious.

I have some thinking to do. And some research. I’ll need to discuss it more with my husband.

But I keep coming back to the same thought: if you die from cancer (either ovarian or your highly estrogen receptor positive breast cancer) because you were too vain/scared to go through menopause early then you are a fucking fool, Jennifer.


Today my oncologist told me that I have graduated to only needing to see him once per year, as I’m a five year survivor now. That is both completely awesome and absolutely terrifying. My NP reassured me, however, by letting me know that if I have a freak out to just call and they’ll get me in sooner. She says it’s pretty common.

He also asked if I would please continue to take the Tamoxifen for ten years, instead of the five he initially prescribed, as that is the new recommended course of treatment. He was very sheepish about it. I laughed and told him I’ve been waiting for him to man up and mention it (I’ve known about this recommendation for a couple of years now). He got a good laugh out of that. He likes to ease me into shit like this. He knows I hate Tamoxifen. But it helps keep me alive, and so I shall continue to swallow that little white pill every single night, like a good girl.

Because life is fucking beautiful, my friends.