Cancer has always loomed large in my family tree. Both of my grandmothers battled breast cancer, and I lost a great aunt to ovarian cancer. In the years that followed, several aunts and uncles faced similar fates with breast and prostate cancers. The most devastating blow came in 2011 when my mother succumbed to ovarian cancer. The grief was overwhelming, and alongside it came an all-consuming fear. I felt like I was destined for a cancer diagnosis, regardless of whether I heated my dinner in the microwave or used my cell phone nearby.
For the next few years, I wrestled with profound sorrow over my mother’s passing while grappling with anxiety about my family’s cancer history. Thoughts raced through my mind: Would I succumb to this disease? Would my daughters face the same fate? Who would be next? In the midst of this turmoil, I often recalled a bizarre trip to Key West in 2006. While vacationing with my husband, I was drawn to a palm reader’s sign on Duvall Street. One evening, I found myself waiting to meet an elderly man draped in a long white robe. He peered into my eyes, took my hand, and made several predictions about my life. Eight years later, as I faced my fears about cancer, I found comfort in his words.
Last year, during my routine OB/GYN check-up, my doctor urged me to consider BRCA testing. He was aware of my mother’s battle with ovarian cancer and my family’s history. Around the same time, Angelina Jolie’s decision to undergo preventive surgery made headlines, and I admired her courage. After much contemplation, I received a pamphlet about BRCA testing from my doctor.
Initially, I tucked it away, overwhelmed by fear and uncertainty. The thought of what the test might reveal was paralyzing. I was still mourning my mother, and the idea of confronting such a heavy reality felt unbearable. Ignorance seemed like a safer option, and I used the high cost of the testing as a convenient excuse.
As months passed, the idea of BRCA testing lingered in my mind. I knew that I could either carry the gene or not, but what would I do if I found out I did? Would I opt for a hysterectomy at just 36? Would I follow in Angelina Jolie’s footsteps with a double mastectomy? Then, one morning, I woke up with clarity—I had to take the test. I owed it to my two daughters. If I carried the gene, they needed to be informed and could eventually have testing themselves. If I didn’t have the gene, I couldn’t pass something on that I didn’t possess. Scheduling the appointment brought me a sense of unexpected peace.
When the day of the test arrived, stress was already in the air. The nurse hadn’t received the correct information about my visit, and I waited longer than expected while she attended to other patients. Finally, I learned that instead of a blood draw, I would provide a Buccal Wash. This involved collecting saliva and rinsing with Listerine into a series of vials. Three vials later, my samples were sent to a lab in Utah.
Next came the insurance approval process, which took nearly six weeks. After numerous assessments and evaluations, my insurance company classified me as “substantial risk.” Then, the agonizing wait began. I found myself waking up at night in cold sweats, my heart racing as I grappled with anxiety. Daily, I looked into my daughters’ eyes and silently apologized for potentially passing on a harmful gene. I spent countless hours researching how I could proactively manage my health. I cried at night, fearing that my husband would no longer find me attractive if I underwent significant changes.
Finally, one late July afternoon, the long-awaited white envelope arrived. With trembling hands, I called my husband at work. “I don’t have the genes. None of them.” Tears of relief streamed down my face as my daughters sensed my emotion and rushed in to hug me. “Mommy? Why are you sad?” I assured them, “These are happy tears.” As I knelt down, I held them close and whispered, “It’s one less thing…” I had done this for them.
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In summary, my journey through BRCA testing was not just about me but a vital step for my daughters. The fear of cancer loomed large, but ultimately, knowledge has empowered me to protect them.
Keyphrase: BRCA Testing for Cancer Awareness
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