Decisions, Decisions

I was 25 when I got the results of my BRCA test, although I had thought about taking the test for a few years. When breast cancer runs on both sides of your family, it's hard not to think in terms of "when," rather than "if." This whole thing started with 5 minutes in the doctors's office. The test is fairly painless- a quick vial of blood taken in my OB/GYN's office was shipped off to a testing center for analysis. A week later, I was back in California and on the phone with my doctor, who sent follow up email with my mutation information. During the phone call, my doctor discussed a few options. Essentially, I could:


1. move forward with a mastectomy.


2. wait until after I had children to make a decision or not have a mastectomy at all. If I wanted to wait until after I had kids, I'd need to be done before I was 35. Either way, I'd have to be very aggressive about screenings- alternating a Breast MRI or Mammogram every 6 months. I'd also need to go in once a year to have a breast specialist read my MRIs.


The other options, including low grade chemo, weren't really for me. I was 25, had no children and wasn't really ready to start having children. Any of the options also recommend that your ovaries go - preferably before you're 40. Wonderful- something else to consider.


Before I move forward in my story, I should tell you that I wasn't alone in all of this. On the day of my test, I bullied my mother into also getting genetic testing. A few months prior, she had a biopsy on some clusters in her left breast and was freaked out enough to be curious. Although my tests were in, we still had to wait a week to find out her results and discover which side of the family I really took after (was I my Daddy's southern belle or my Mom's English rose? Ha). Apparently, I have more in common with Kate Middleton than Scarlet O'Hara - my Mom and I have matching mutations, passed on from her mother.


So, why did I decide to get a mastectomy? Breast cancer has already touched my life. My mother's mother died very young from premenopausal breast cancer; I watched my father's mother suffer from postmenopausal breast cancer. I knew other women who had fought- some had lost. I watched my Mom tense leading up to her mammograms and agonize until her test results came back clear. I made this choice a long time ago, before there was even such a thing as genetic testing. I knew that if I ever got breast cancer, my time with my boobs would come to an end and the results of my genetic test simply moved our goodbye forward.


That's it- a simplified version of why I decided to get a mastectomy. The choice was clear - my breasts have never defined me and now, they'll never get the chance to.