I had a preventive double mastectomy at 32, and no, I don’t have the BRCA gene

Tap, tap, tap.

That’s the sound I heard in my head for years, every time I looked at myself braless in the mirror or mustered up enough courage to give myself a chance. breast self-examination in the shower.

It was the tick of what felt like a time bomb sitting on my chest, waiting to explode.

Breast cancer.

I had thought about it almost every day since I was a teenager, when I came to fully understand the battle my own mother was waging and the possibility that I might have to fight my own war against the same disease. A disease that has really ravaged my family.

On April 1, 2024, I walked into an operating room. I opted for a preventive double mastectomy, where my breasts were removed in the hope of eliminating the possibility of a breast cancer diagnosis in the future.

Inevitably, when I tell someone I had this surgery or was planning to have it, the answer is almost always the same. “Oh, so you have the BRCA gene, right?”

My answer is always the same: “No, I just have an absolutely terrible family history of breast cancer.”

In fact, I don’t have any of the known breast cancer causing genes that can put someone at an incredibly high risk of the disease.

What my individual profile does indicate is that I may be at high risk for developing breast cancer, given my family history and my ancestry.

My paternal grandmother developed the disease in her 70s, my maternal grandmother in her 50s, and my mother developed the disease at the young age of 39. None of them have any of the known genes that cause breast cancer. Fortunately, they are all still alive.

I was in 5th grade when my mother was diagnosed and can vividly remember all the treatments she received. The operations, the chemo, the hair loss, the radiation. Everything.

My mother was (and still is) a housewife and took care of my younger brother and me while my father had a demanding job. She did everything for us, but suddenly, in the blink of an eye, she couldn’t do it anymore.

For years I told my mother, “I just know that one day I will get breast cancer.” She always responded accurately by saying, “Just because it happened to me doesn’t mean it will happen to you.”

She’s right, but either way, I felt like the odds were against me.

Women with a strong family history of breast cancer may be at high risk for developing the disease. according to the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Overall, about one in eight women in the United States will develop breast cancer during her lifetime says CDC.

Around age 25, I started getting serious about my breast health. A fellow producer at ABC News at the time, who was just a few years younger than me, had a BRCA diagnosis and decided to have a preventive double mastectomy.

It was inspiring and empowering to see her share her story. If she could make such an important decision about her body, so could I.

I wish I could say that my journey to my decision to remove my breasts was easy and straight forward, but it was anything but.

The first doctor I encountered was a reputable one New York City hospital, known for their specialized cancer treatment. They had an intensive breast cancer surveillance program and because of my family history, I thought I would be the ideal candidate.

Instead, the doctor told me she thought I should see a psychologist. I left discouraged and crying.

It wasn’t until a year later, after meeting a young group of women experiencing similar problems, that someone in the group referred me to another doctor.

After months of waiting for an appointment, I finally saw my new oncologist, Dr. Julia Smith of NYU Langone Health. She listened to me and validated my feelings. She agreed that given my background, I should be under intensive monitoring for breast cancer.

Although I was relieved, the intensive surveillance takes its toll on you. Every six months I had a contrast MRI of my breasts or an ultrasound and mammogram, each time holding my breath for the results.

When I turned 30, I became pregnant with my daughter, Reese. My husband and I were elated, but being pregnant meant that some of my breast cancer monitoring could not be at the same level as before.

As any new parent will tell you, your perspective on almost every aspect of life changes after you have a baby. So did mine, and my fear of being diagnosed with breast cancer only increased.

The thought that my own child might have to watch me undergo cancer treatment like I did with my own mother was almost too much to bear. After breastfeeding for twelve months and suffering from clogged milk ducts that felt like lumps in my breasts, I had had enough.

Over the years, I had told my doctor that I felt strongly that I ultimately wanted a preventive double mastectomy. For a while she forced me to continue my surveillance. I agreed because it had never felt like the right time personally or professionally. Moreover, I had no genetic mutations, there was no clear answer as to whether or not I should have the operation.

But here’s the thing. Surveillance is exactly what it sounds like: just surveillance. It does not reduce your risk of developing breast cancer. It only helps to hopefully catch the potential breast cancer at a stage that is survivable with treatment.

So when my daughter was a year and a half old, I told my oncologist that I was now really serious about this surgery. She agreed.

Lucky to live in New York City with some of the best healthcare in the world, coupled with amazing health benefits, none of which I take for granted, I had access to top-rated breast surgeons – an amazing medical team, led by women.

After careful discussion with my team, we decided that my surgery would be split into two parts.

The first involved the complete removal of my breast tissue, while sparing my nipples to give me a semblance of normality, and the application of expanders as part of the reconstruction. The expanders would stretch my skin and create space for my implants, which I eventually had inserted during a second surgery four months later.

The first operation was difficult. It felt like a bus full of screaming children had run over my chest. But the relief that came with the surgery was undeniable. I was in pain, yes, but the pain was temporary and not accompanied by additional cancer treatment. I was finally a “pastor.” I was one of the lucky ones.

I am now two months after my second surgery, where I exchanged the expanders I received during my first surgery for implants. A much easier operation than the first.

Although I now joke that my breasts will always be ‘perky’ for the rest of my life, when I think back on everything I’ve been through in the past seven months, I feel nothing but immense gratitude – grateful to my family and friends for the endless support, grateful for an employer who gave me all the time I needed to recover, and grateful for the relief I feel now that this is behind me.

Rachel Katz is a New York-based coordinating producer for “ABC News Live.”