WE ARE BRIGHT PINK

Amy
I never met my grandmother or my Aunt Arlene. My grandmother was diagnosed with breast cancer when my mom was only eight months old. She died when my mom was 12. My Aunt Arlene was diagnosed when she was 28 and died just six years later leaving behind two young daughters.

Before I was born, breast cancer was predestined to be a part of my world. Whether it struck my mother, my aunt, my sister, my cousin— it was only a matter of time before it would truly impact my life. When my mom called me in January 2007 to say her breast doctor thought she had ovarian cancer, my first reaction was utter shock. I couldn't help but think, "no, no—you mean breast cancer." But, the pelvic ultra sound showed 9-inch tumors and the PET scan results confirmed she had stage 4C ovarian cancer.

We found out on Tuesday. She had the surgery on Thursday.

It turns out the cancer had wrapped around her colon and touched the surface of her bladder; luckily, it had not spread to her lymph nodes. On that Tuesday cancer had forced its own malicious intentions on me and my family and to say our world was turned upside-down is an understatement. After an eight day hospital stay (six of which were without food), we started the chemo. I picked up my life from New Yorkand moved to Miami to be with her to start my new job as chemotherapy patient caregiver.

At the time, my sister and I never thought about our own health or taking preventative measures for our future. We were only concerned about getting mom back.

She finished the chemo in August 2007 and worked for months trying to reclaim her strength. In early December she was scheduled to have a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy. The surgery went well and she decided to get the expanders to maintain somewhat of a womanly appearance. After all, she had lost her ovaries, her uterus, and her hair, all in an eight month period. We learned again in April that her CA 125, a protein produced by tumor cells, was exponentially increasing from her bi-weekly blood tests. For some women this does not mean anything, but for her it's a clear indicator that the tumor cells are reproducing.

So, we're back on the chemo. Her second reconstructive surgery has been delayed until further notice.

In the midst of all this, my mom and my living aunt got tested for the BRCA 1 and 2 genes, which we now know greatly increase the likelihood of breast and/or ovarian cancer. My mom tested positive; my aunt, negative. So now, my sister Meredith and I know that we have a 50/50 chance of inheriting the gene.

Even though we received unwavering support from friends and family, Be Bright Pink has helped provide a community and act as a source for us to learn how we can take preventative measures for early detection--something that all the love and care cannot provide. For that, I am truly thankful we found Bright Pink. My sister and I are determined to take control. We are not going to let this disease claim either of us.