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For as long as I can remember, I've been terrified of getting breast cancer. And quite frankly, I've had every reason to be. It runs in my family ... or I should probably say, wreaks havoc on it. At 18, my mom lost her mother and grandmother to breast cancer within a week of each other (they were just 39 and 57 when they died). Their early deaths have always haunted both of us. It felt like Mom would be next to go ... then I'd get it when I was young too.
When she was 42 and I was 11, the day my family had dreaded arrived. I knew it the moment I walked in the door from school and saw my 'dad home from work in the afternoon, sitting in the living room with my mom, head in his hands. The first thought that tore through my brain was She's going to die.
Knock on wood, she beat it. But it didn't stop there. Just as her hair was beginning to grow back from the breast-cancer chemotherapy, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Talk about being kicked when you're down!
You'd think I would have been elated when she finally went into remission from ovarian cancer six months later. But instead, I became depressed. I was 14 years old, and a lot had fallen on me while she was sick. My dad did as much as he could, but he was working and couldn't be home 2A/7. So I helped take care of my then-3-year-old brother, cooked dinners, and rubbed my mom's head when the chemo made her throw ...
Source: HighBeam Research, "My scariest choice as a woman": when Lindsay Avner, now 24, found...