by Lauren Corduck

So, this is what it has come to.

BRCA-related cancer risk. I’m that self-absorbed kook posting on Facebook in the middle of the night. Well, here’s why: I want to go on record. We’ve all been cautioned, once you post something on social media, it’s out there and can never be taken back. I’m okay with that. In fact, I want what I’m about to write to never, ever disappear, even if I do.

I am not strong. I am not brave. Just because I’m in remission doesn’t mean I’m okay emotionally. Just because I don’t look sick, doesn’t mean I’m okay. I cry every single day. My love, Robb, and I were on a dinner date tonight and I cried for the first half hour in public. Pre-diagnosis I wasn’t much of a crier. I will never be okay with this.

Like all cancer survivors, I am terrified that the cancer (ovarian cancer in my case) is going to come back and kill me. Like every man and woman who has a BRCA gene mutation, I’m terrified of developing a second type of cancer that I’m at high risk for (breast cancer in my case). I’m terrified that I’m going to have to figure out a way to say goodbye to our children, my husband and everyone else whom I love so dearly.

The Battle

As the director of marketing, communications and education for Massachusetts General Hospital Cancer Center recently articulated for me, people who are undergoing treatment for cancer are not “battling” cancer. That would imply, if the cancer kills them, they have “lost the battle” and succumbed because they are weak. It would imply that they are losers and did something wrong even if they never missed their countless appointments and followed their doctors’ orders to a tee.

Cancer patients have a different battle to fight day in and day out that is largely invisible to most. We fight to stay afloat and not be consumed with and paralyzed by terror. We fight to live in the moment and derive every bit as much joy from our lives as we did prior to diagnosis. We fight to get out of bed every morning, staking our claim to the day ahead and resisting the urge to think past it and peer down into the rabbit hole. With every breath, we are not fighting cancer so much we are fighting mightily to find and make meaning.

My Meaning

My meaning is our children and Oneinforty, my new non-profit with a mission of:

• Raising awareness of BRCA-related cancer risk in the Ashkenazi Jewish community and medical community alike
• Educating Ashkenazi Jews and medical professionals about genetic counseling and screening, how to mitigate the risk of developing BRCA-related cancer and how to detect it as early as possible
• Providing emotional support to individuals and families who are facing their risk of BRCA-related cancer
• Educating Ashkenazi Jews and medical professionals about genetic counseling and screening, how to mitigate the risk of developing BRCA-related cancer and how to detect it as early as possible
• Providing emotional support to individuals and families who are facing their risk of BRCA-related cancer

In my mind, if we can grow Oneinforty into a high-impact, sustainable national nonprofit that stops BRCA cancer in its tracks in families of Ashkenazi Jewish heritage, I will have defeated ovarian cancer and overcome the BRCA gene mutation that my body will always harbor.

Oneinforty is taking off in a big way. Thanks in large part to members of my family and friends, old and new. The cancer may come back and take my life, but Oneinforty now has the potential to have a life of its own and save so many other lives.

I want to thank Oneinforty’s board members, ambassadors and donors who are involved in nurturing this dream. Thank you also to the fine folks at Massachusetts General Hospital and The Virginia Thurston Healing Garden Cancer Support Center who have my back. It is because of all of you that I can now go back to sleep. 💗

www.oneinforty.org