I remember when she told us. My sister and I were snuggled in my parents’ bed listening to my dad read us Harry Potter. It was The Order of the Phoenix I think. She walked in, really calmly, and sat down on the edge of the bed. We thought nothing of it until my dad stopped reading and said my mom had something to tell us. “I have cancer”. I think I was in shock, or didn’t really understand. We talked about it briefly, my mom saying she would be at the doctor’s a lot. And really tired for a few months. She also showed us the wig she was going to start wearing. That’s when I got really upset. I saw the wig box in the trunk of the car the day before and thought it was a new cat. I really wanted a new cat.
I don’t remember her going into surgery. Honestly, I don’t even think I knew until she came home with the bandages. I never saw her throw up from the chemo, or even stay in bed for a day. She never showed me what she looked like without her wig, even when swimming at the lake house. Parents of kids in my fifth grade class would come up to me, “I’m so sorry to hear about your mom. I hope she’s doing okay!” I would just smile and nod, wondering why they were making such a big deal about it. My mom seemed fine to me. She would pick us up from school, watch us eat dinner (I realize now she didn’t eat because of the nausea), and then we would all listen to my dad read Harry Potter.
That wasn’t my family’s first interaction with breast cancer. My mom’s own mother died from it when I was very young. My grandma was 70 when she got it. My mom was 45. I didn’t really realize the implications of that until much later, when I started to understand genetics. BRCA1 and BRCA2 are genes that produce tumor suppressor proteins. 55 to 65 percent of women who inherit a harmful BRCA1 mutation and around 45 percent of women who inherit a harmful BRCA2 mutation will develop breast cancer by age 70. About 12 percent of women in the general population will develop breast cancer sometime during their lives[1]. Luckily, my mom was aware of these odds, which is why she got checked at an age most people don’t even think about it. That’s why when I go home for break my mom picks me up from the airport with open arms and (hopefully) a snack.
My roommate Emily burst into our suite a few weeks ago and loudly announced “GUYS! Did you know I’m related to Bono? That must be why I have such a great singing voice!” Just to clarify: she doesn’t. She explained that her dad made her do a genetic predisposition test to see if she had any risk factors for common diseases. This includes breast cancer. She doesn’t have any serious family history of these common diseases, but her dad just thought it was better to be safe than sorry. I knew these tests existed (I got one after my mom was diagnosed), but I had never met anyone who had gotten one without having a serious disease run in their family. But why not? They are easy to find, relatively inexpensive (compared to the medical bills you could prevent), and could possibly save your life[2].
In this case (like in so many cases) I believe the solution is knowledge. If people knew how easy it was to screen their DNA for risk factors they would be more aware of potential health risks (and even some potential famous relatives). This awareness could lead to action: life saving action. Of course, the tests could cause unneeded panic. Not everyone who has a risk factor for cancer ends up getting it, but, like Emily’s dad, wouldn’t you rather be safe than sorry?
We were on The Half-Blood Prince when my mom finished chemo. Her hair grew back, although significantly curlier than before (apparently this is common). She would venture outside more often without her wig—a feeling I image to be one of the most liberating in the world. Life returned to normal. But now I know. Thanks to genetic screening I know my chances of getting cancer are relatively high. I know I need to get checked. And I know that if it does happen, I will catch it before it progresses that far. The $300 test might eventually save my life.
Hi Erin, Overall, I thought this essay was a very interesting one. I like how you structured it – with your own story weaved into the argument. I agree, however that the transitions could be improved at places, such as when you begin the paragraph about your roommate. Even though the personal story you are telling relates to and helps the argument you are making, I think it would be beneficial if you introduced it a little bit sooner in the essay. Not that you really have to include more paragraphs that talk about the dry “for or against” checking for risk factors, maybe just make it more explicit that the story you are telling IS an argument.
Very good flow and tone talking about something that can obviously be devastating. I liked how you were able to turn your personal story into an argument that people should get genetic screening since it is relatively inexpensive but could change your life. You could have a smoother transition between paragraphs 3 and 4.
Erin, this essay is an unexpected turn from your usual jaunty, lighthearted tone, but I feel it captures your voice just as well. Your intro is great, and I love how you started with “I remember when she told us”– that really grabbed my attention and made me want to read more. You tackle a personal and emotional subject with an eloquent composure and even managed to sneak in some statistics and information about the gene mutations. I think the fourth paragraph is the weakest part because it just doesn’t really seem to fit in with the rest until about half-way through. Perhaps fleshing out the idea that fewer people get them than they should would work to your advantage. Great job.