It’s been a few days since I’ve talked about my breasts, so here is the latest. I went to see the genetic counselor last Thursday and was impressed by her knowledge, the research she had done on my case, and her ability to lay the facts out plain and simple. The upshot is that it’s not so much genetics, but personal factors that are the culprit in raising my cancer risk. By the end of the hour, I had made my decision to go with the breast surgeon’s recommendation for a double mastectomy. One deciding factor was that my doctors still don’t know exactly what kind of tumor I have, even after sending tissue samples to UVa and elsewhere. They’re pretty sure it’s not malignant, but they won’t say for certain yet. Malignant or benign, I don’t want cells dividing with abandon and partying hearty in my body. I want them out.

Having made the decision, I feel calm. The surgery will be sometime in July, although it hasn’t been scheduled yet. I’m focusing on eating right and exercising. I downloaded the latest installment in Gabaldon’s Outlander series onto my Kindle. I’ve been waiting for that book to come out for ages, but I’m saving it for hospital reading. After the surgery, I’m headed straight for eighteenth-century Scotland and America to spend some time with Claire and Jamie.

Meanwhile, my writing is perking along. My protagonist, Shelby, is still having a much worse summer than I, and I have even more ghastly things in store for him.