8 years ago, my 24 year old self was entering my second year of teaching. Bright eyed and ambitious, I had the world at my fingertips. I had just returned from a summer traveling Europe, had received a fellowship to pursue my Master’s Degree, blissfully continued my college relationship and deciding where my best friend and I would go out in Boston was quite the monumental decision each weekend.
It seemed like over night I found myself in a Genetics Counselor’s office as she explained the realities, the statistics, if I tested positive for the BRCA1 gene mutation and my family history of breast and ovarian cancer. I would have a lot of decisions to make in my future. Within days, the world came tumbling down. I have a vivid memory sitting in the hospital with my college boyfriend whom I thought was my future, we were faced with questions well beyond our years. The future suddenly slipped through my fingertips as I painstakingly tried to hold on.
When did we want to start a family? When could I get my ovaries out? Did I want to think about a double mastectomy? Did I understand that all of the tests and screenings were simply to catch cancer early? Every family member that we know of with BRCA1 has had cancer, many died young. This really isn’t a matter of if...it is a matter of when.
These questions and statistics echoed through my head, I felt helpless. Paralyzed. I would have to be a survivor. Or better yet, maybe by the time I would actually have to deal with this, there would be a better option than a mastectomy. At the age of 24, that was off the table. Inadvertently, my boyfriend of 6 years and I broke up...while simultaneously and coincidentally his mother battled (and survived) breast cancer. While I can’t say it was the only reason that our once stable relationship didn’t withstand, it was definitely a major factor. We were forced to grapple with information that despite our best efforts, our college love simply couldn’t endure. The guilt I felt was unfathomable. While at the time, my world was shattered, I can confidently say the magnitude of this diagnosis in conjunction with the reality of it, did not sink in until last January when my 34 year old cousin, a mother of a 6 month old baby at the time, was diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer followed by a brutal road of chemo and a series of surgeries and setbacks. The night my husband and I learned of her diagnoses, we sat on the couch, embraced each other and cried. 7 months pregnant and my anxiety spiraled. As a type A planner being smacked in the face with reality, I needed a new plan of action immediately. My once comfortable (well, as comfortable as one with BRCA could ever be) plan of getting my ovaries out once we were done having children and then dealing with my breasts down the road, suddenly felt a death sentence. I had ticking time bombs inside of my body… the same body that was growing my baby.
That March, I gave birth to the most beautiful little girl, Ava. After a traumatic birth and emergency c-section, I battled an uphill battle of Post Partum Depression (that’s a story for another day!) The discussion about surgery planning was off the table again. Focusing on taking care of our new baby and becoming healthy again was at the forefront. Summer came around and after months of support from an amazing team of doctors, our family, and medication, I was starting to feel like myself again. Unbeknownst to me, this would be when we would have our first major breast cancer scare. Luckily, the scans came back clear for the time being and I would have follow up tests in 6 months. As we fell more in love with Ava each passing day, it became clear to us that we wanted to change my fate, change my destiny, to be a previvor before it was too late.
On January 15th, 2020 I became the first generation in my family history to get a preventative surgery and underwent a prophylactic double mastectomy. While the path hasn’t been easy and the emotional preparation has been harder than I bargained for, not for a moment do I doubt that I made the right decision for me and my family. Before recently, I wasn’t one to talk openly about my BRCA1 diagnosis. I thought it took a level of vulnerability I wasn’t capable of, it has always felt so deeply personal. Over the past few months however, I have felt connected to complete strangers, some across the country or even world, as we all grapple with information and try to navigate. Together these women have helped me realize, I am not alone. I have felt inspired and empowered by women who have helped me pave the road to take control of my health. I have truly discovered the power of human connection and how it can help comfort, heal, and cope. I hope sharing my story can raise awareness about BRCA and relieve loneliness others may feel. While the outpouring of support has helped me stay afloat, if my story can help pave the road for even just one person, it’s worth sharing. While my BRCA journey certainly isn’t over, the decision to undergo a mastectomy has pulled me out of my comfort zone to write my own story, instead of letting cancer write it for me.
#mastectomy #mastectomyrecovery #BRCA #BRCApositive #preventativemastectomy #mastectomyreconstruction