I Underwent Genetic Testing to Help My Son, and Discovered I Have an Increased Risk of Breast Cancer
What if my son, the boy who has puzzled everyone, has helped to save my life?
What if I have an allergic reaction while flying over the Atlantic and my throat closes up on the plane?
variant of unknown significance
What if it’s too late? What if cancer cells are already hiding in my breasts or ovaries?
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Not knowing happens to all mothers, and to all of us—if we are breathing, we are without escape from things we can’t know.
Two Black Parents of an Undiagnosed Child Walk Into a Meeting: On Race, Special Education, and Our Son’s IEP
I’m not just advocating for a child whose challenges don’t follow a script. I’m also a black mother advocating for my black son in a room full of people who don’t look like us.
How many days had we spent asking the same questions of God or doctors? How long had we wrestled with conditions that didn’t yet exist?
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This is where, for me, motherhood divided into ‘Before’ and ‘After.’
I’m not looking for a cure—not for my kids, and not for me. Any treatment we choose is merely a tool to help us enjoy our lives.