“The news of his short life expectation placed a great deal of stress on family dynamics.”

Luckily, I was able to create a position with my employer working from home so I could help both of my parents As the caregiver to two parents, I attended hospital and doctors’ visits. During this stressful time I also began dating my best friend of 13 years, Eric. Eric was no stranger to cancer; his mother has the BRCA-1 gene and was first diagnosed when he was ten.

In 2017, my Mom did genetic testing through BreastNext which showed no identifiable mutations. My Mom’s bone metastasis came back again in 2014, 2016, and 2019. In 2022, it metasticized to her adrenal glands and her small bowel.

Mom was an introvert with anxiety that was heightened after her diagnosis. Throughout her journey no-one talked about it, no-one said the word “cancer”, we just showed up when it showed up. She chose not to share her journey with friends or family. Her mindset was to live in the present as much as possible and her goal was to be with her grandchildren, and make it to 80 years old. My Dad was an extroverted Irishman who shared with everybody that he had cancer. He was beloved by the nurses and doctors. He was determined to share with us that he was never in pain.

My Dad passed away two years after his initial diagnosis. Throughout my Dad’s diagnosis, I worked with a therapist to navigate family dynamics, manage boundaries, the stress of caretaking, and being single while experiencing loss and grief.

It still gives me all the feels to know that my Dad knew my now, husband, Eric; and gave us his blessing in his final days. When Eric and I started thinking about having a family, we did genetic testing and Eric tested negative for the BRCA-1 gene. At the time, the genetics specialist did not see any medical rational for me to do testing because it was not indicated beyond identifying the BRCA gene. Throughout my 20s, 30s and early 40s I was diligent about receiving regular mammograms and ultrasounds for “very dense breast tissue”.

In 2021, my gynecologist shared that I should consider genetic testing as it had expanded to identify many more diseases. I felt a personal responsibility to schedule the MyrIad Genetic Testing. The results came back with a very high risk score of 39.4% over a lifetime with no clinically significant mutations identified but a variant of uncertain significance, the MSH3 gene, was found. I was still not too worried because I had recently had a mammogram and the results came back, “negative”…no cancer.

The next step was to see an oncology specialist. During my first visit with the oncology specialist, she said, “You are healthy, you eat well, you workout and those are the first protocols that I tell someone with your genetic history. You have two options: (1) get an elective double mastectomy or (2) go on tamoxifen (an estrogen modulator).” Based off my age and career in medical device sales working with surgeons, I opted for tamoxifen. The doctor also recommended that I schedule an MRI but confirmed there was no hurry. At each doctor visit, the doctors did a breast exam and found nothing of concern. I immediately booked the MRI.  I immediately booked the MRI because I felt a responsibility based off of family history to be diligent in my prevention efforts.

COVID lockdown was over, but medical offices still required patients go in alone to MRIs, and a face mask was required inside the MRI machine. I walked into the dimly lit medical room masked and the nurse directed me to lay face down on the table. As I lowered my head into the square box, I was struck by a debilitating panic attack. The impact of COVID, the mask over my airways, the sensation of being trapped, and the memories of my parents’ cancer journeys overwhelmed me. I cancelled the MRI and fled the office in tears, defeated. I called the oncologist’s office multiple times to let her know what happened, begging with her staff to prescribe me some other alternative or anti-anxiety meds to get me through the MRI but she never returned my call.

So I found another doctor, one who spent appropriate time with me and listened. She recommended a better MRI location and a psychiatrist who specializes in this type of anxiety. Soon after, I was able to successfully get through the MRI scan.

Two weeks later, with my nine and 10 year old children in the car after picking them up from school, I received a call from the doctor. I had a malignant mass in my left breast.

“You did nothing to cause this,” she said.

I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that at the time, but I understand now. My kids had tears streaming down their faces. “Are you going to die?” they asked. I called my husband and dropped the kids off at home while I went to go tell my Mom the news. Through tears, I asked her to stay alive while I went through this journey. She didn’t shed a tear, and said, “We’ve got this”.

I then drove over to my kids’ school to meet with their teachers to ask them to look out for our kids during this time. For the next few weeks, I felt like I was floating outside of my body watching someone else’s life. It all felt surreal and scary.

In 2022, my Mom passed away on the eve of what would have been her 56th wedding anniversary, 3 months shy of her 81st birthday after breast cancer took over her body. I was with my Mom every step of the way as a caretaker while also battling breast cancer myself. I truly feel our family’s cancer story is a beautiful one because we walked hand-in-hand together through it all, and I look forward to doing the same with you.