I am just a week away from undergoing a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy. One week from now, my breasts will no longer be part of my body. It’s hard to believe that this moment is upon me, especially considering that just seven months ago, I was blindsided by my BRCA diagnosis. A year ago, the thought of preparing for this surgery would have seemed unfathomable, but life has a way of throwing unexpected challenges our way.
In June, through a genetic test, I learned that I had a significant risk of carrying a BRCA2 mutation. My understanding of BRCA was limited to the media coverage surrounding celebrity cases, notably Angelina Jolie’s announcement about her own BRCA1 mutation and the surgeries that followed. After learning about my own genetic risk, I immersed myself in research, discovering the realities of hereditary breast and ovarian cancer (HBOC) Syndrome. Women with this syndrome have a dramatically higher lifetime risk of developing breast and ovarian cancer compared to the general population—up to 84% for BRCA2 carriers, versus 12% for the average woman.
It’s worth noting that only a small percentage of the population carries a BRCA mutation; the risks are particularly heightened among those of Ashkenazi Jewish descent, with about 1 in 40 carriers compared to 1 in 800 in the general population. Despite these statistics, I had a strong intuition that I would test positive, and when the genetic counselor confirmed my fears, I was devastated. The thought of not having children, or the option to breastfeed, loomed heavily over me.
After a day of wallowing in self-pity, I shifted gears and began to take control of my situation. I researched extensively, connected with others who had faced similar diagnoses, and began scheduling numerous appointments with specialists. I felt a sense of empowerment as I checked off tasks on my list, but I also uncovered some hard truths about my health and mortality. I realized that, until now, I had taken my good health for granted, believing I was invulnerable. This revelation was jarring, and it forced me to confront the reality of my genetic risk.
As I wrestled with the decision to undergo a mastectomy, I felt torn. While doctors advised surgery by age 40, I briefly considered a monitoring approach, thinking I could possibly wait until after having children. However, I recognized that waiting could put me at risk for aggressive cancer, a thought that haunted me.
Imagining bringing a child into the world only to fall ill filled me with dread. One doctor shared a heart-wrenching story of a patient who faced a similar fate, emphasizing that breast cancer diagnosed in the 30s tends to be aggressive and recurrent. I had to face the stark reality that my decision could dictate the course of my future, and I leaned heavily on my support system throughout this process.
I often describe my upcoming surgery in blunt terms, acknowledging the reality of having part of my body removed. I want to confront the situation head-on instead of sugar-coating it. After months of preparation, I’ve been grieving the loss of my breasts. I never thought I’d feel such profound sorrow over them; they never held much significance for me until now. I mourn the loss of my ability to breastfeed, the sensation, and the way my breasts contribute to my identity as a woman.
A former White House aide once asserted that femininity is defined by resilience and courage, not by physical attributes. I want to believe this, yet I still grapple with the fear of feeling less of a woman post-surgery. I recognize my privilege in having access to information and resources early on, allowing me to make informed decisions. I’m grateful for the support of friends and family who have stood by me through this emotional journey.
As I approach my surgery date, I feel a mix of gratitude and grief—two sides of the same coin. Despite my struggle, I remind myself that this choice could significantly reduce my cancer risk. Yet, I still find myself questioning whether I might be moving too quickly.
In summary, the journey of facing a prophylactic mastectomy is filled with complex emotions, from fear and grief to gratitude for the choices available. As I prepare for this life-altering procedure, I’m learning to navigate the intricacies of my identity and health in ways I never anticipated.
If you’re looking for more information on fertility and related topics, check out this fertility booster for men that could be beneficial. For gift ideas for dads, visit this resource for inspiration. Additionally, for a deeper understanding of pregnancy and home insemination, this site offers excellent resources.