BRCA1: Knowledge is Power

Remember when Angelina Jolie had a bilateral mastectomy because she tested positive for a genetic mutation that brings a propensity for breast and ovarian cancer? Turns out . . . I’ve got it too.

From the cancer.gov website, “BRCA1 and BRCA2 are human genes that produce tumor suppressor proteins. These proteins help repair damaged DNA and, therefore, play a role in ensuring the stability of the cell’s genetic material. When either of these genes is mutated, or altered, such that its protein product either is not made or does not function correctly, DNA damage may not be repaired properly. As a result, cells are more likely to develop additional genetic alterations that can lead to cancer.” Essentially, it means that by the age of 70, I have an 87% chance of getting breast cancer and a 44% chance of getting ovarian cancer. (https://www.brightpink.org/ is a great resource for information)

My mom passed away from ovarian cancer, her sister had breast cancer, and one of my sisters tested positive for BRCA1, so I always knew there was the possibility that I had it as well. I wasn’t ready to know, until my step sister’s breast cancer came back a few months ago. Finally the weight of not knowing was more than the potential weight of knowing. The phone call came while I was racing go karts with my co-workers in Tooele last Monday and I drove my team back to Salt Lake with tears falling behind my sunglasses while I joked about my slow-poke pace around the track.

My sweet friends know me well.

What does this mean in my life? I hope that one day I will get to have children, so no surgeries for now. Advanced screenings, close observations with my doctors and an overall awareness of what to look for. My family’s reactions included things like, “This is not a diagnosis of anything,” “Don’t let this feel bigger than it is” and “Knowledge is power – that is all.” They are the absolute best at dealing with less-than-ideal circumstances. My rational mind will get me to that outlook eventually, but in the mean time I have many emotions about this, and writing things down is very therapeutic for me, so please bear with me as I attempt to identify all that I feel.

I am afraid. Afraid of dying the same way I saw mom die. Afraid of the ravaging effects of chemotherapy and radiation. Afraid of the pain that can come from surgery. Afraid because every year I get older without having children, my odds of getting cancer increase. Afraid that cancer will show up before I meet the right man and I won’t be able to have kids. Afraid that no man will want to take on a ticking time bomb.

Overall, this feels like a very complicated game of chicken.

I am grateful. Grateful to live in an age when I can know my risks ahead of time, and we have ways of monitoring my body. Grateful for an awesome doctor who was prepared with a plan. Grateful for amazing friends and family who have made me laugh and smile and helped me feel loved and supported.

“How much of life do we miss by waiting to see the rainbow before thanking God that there is rain?”

I am hopeful. Hopeful because if mom had known what I know, she would probably still be alive. Hopeful that we will catch any signs of cancer before they become deadly. Hopeful that life still has some wonderful surprises left for me. Hopeful because I KNOW it’s all in God’s hands, and that one way or another, I will be given the strength to endure whatever lies ahead.

“Faith in Father’s plan gives us endurance even amid the wreckage of such proximate hopes. Hope keeps us anxiously engaged in good causes even when those appear to be losing causes.”

Plus, like my sister said, there are worse things in life than a medically necessary boob job.