It was at the age of 23 that I learned that I was a carrier of the BRCA1 gene mutation.
In my mother’s family, there had already been several cases of cancer, and the mutation had been confirmed in several relatives. However, my mother, for reasons that are personal to her and that I respect, had chosen not to know her genetic status.
It was while talking to my gynaecologist that I realised how important it was to have these genetic tests done. As the subject had become very taboo in my family, I carried out the tests discreetly, with only my sister and three friends knowing about them.
Three months passed between the analyses and the announcement of the results. Three months during which the mind wanders, during which we let ourselves be invaded by a thousand scenarios.
I can still see myself in front of the oncogeneticist, listening to her explanations about the risks of cancer, prophylactic surgery, the follow-up to be put in place, MAP and PGD, etc. At that moment, reality hit me: I realised that my life was going to be completely turned upside down.
It was one of the most difficult periods of my life. On the one hand, I was alone, without the support of my family at a time when I needed it most. Secondly, I was faced with a reality that was difficult to share: not only did I have to tell them about my own situation, but I also had to tell my mother that she was a carrier too. Keeping this secret from me, even if she didn’t want to know, meant carrying a crushing burden of guilt. I knew that one day, if she was faced with cancer, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for not having tried to warn her.
It took me almost four months before I found the courage to talk to them about it. During that time, I drowned in a whirlwind of questions, fears and doubts. A deep-seated anxiety overwhelmed me: how could I go on living a normal life, not being constantly obsessed by this genetic mutation and the threat of cancer? But with time, I learnt to live with BRCA. I realised that my life would be different, but that it would still be beautiful.
I would like to pay tribute to the kindness of the healthcare professionals around me. Their attentiveness, availability and advice have been invaluable. They were able to guide me, reassure me and offer me unfailing support. However, despite everything, I often felt alone. I would so much have liked to have met other people in my situation, who could have shared their experiences with me and shown me that life was beautiful, and that it didn’t stop when the diagnosis was announced.
I’ve already been through a few stressful experiences… ultrasounds, mammograms, MRIs and even biopsies no longer hold any secrets for me. But today I’m fine, I’m doing my follow-up as recommended by my senologist, and I’m enjoying life to the full.
I haven’t had any preventive surgery yet, but I know I will one day.
I don’t think I can ever thank my great gynaecologist enough for encouraging me to have these tests. I know that if I’m where I am today, it’s thanks to her.
To conclude, I would simply say that life is beautiful, and that a genetic mutation will not prevent us from living it to the full.
BRCA+ Network asbl
