I had a prophylactic double mastectomy at age 32, and no, I do not have the BRCA gene.

Tick, tick, tick.

I heard this sound in my head for years, every time I looked at myself in the mirror without a bra or worked up the courage to give myself breast self-examination in the shower.

It was like a time bomb sitting on my chest, waiting to explode.

Breast cancer.

This has been on my mind almost every day of my life since I was a teenager, when I began to fully understand the battle that my own mother was fighting, and the possibility that I, too, might have to fight my own war against the same diseases. A disease that really affected my family.

On April 1, 2024, I walked into the operating room. I decided to have a prophylactic double mastectomy, removing my breasts in hopes of eliminating the possibility of a breast cancer diagnosis in the future.

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

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

I actually don’t have any of the known breast cancer genes that would give someone an incredibly high chance of getting the disease.

My individual profile does indicate that I may be at high risk of developing breast cancer given my family history and my background.

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

I was in 5th grade when my mother was diagnosed and remember well all the treatments she went through. Surgeries, chemotherapy, hair loss, radiation. All this.

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

For years I told my mom, “I just know that one day I will have breast cancer.” She always answered accurately: “Just because it happened to me, doesn’t mean it will happen to you.”

She’s right, but still, I felt like the odds were stacked against me.

Women with a strong family history of breast cancer may be at high risk of contracting the disease. in accordance with US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Overall, approximately one in eight women in the United States will develop breast cancer in their lifetime. The Center for Disease Control and Prevention says.

Around age 25, I started taking my breast health seriously. At the time, a fellow ABC News producer who was just a couple years younger than me was diagnosed with BRCA and decided to have a prophylactic double mastectomy.

Watching her share her story was inspiring and empowering. If she could make such a big decision about her body, then so could I.

I would like to say that my journey to decision to have my breasts removed was easy and simple, but that was not the case at all.

The first doctor I found was at a famous New York A city hospital renowned for its specialized cancer treatment. They had an intensive breast cancer surveillance program, and given my family history, I thought I would be an ideal candidate.

Instead, the doctor told me that she thought I needed to see a psychologist. I left upset and crying.

It was only a year later, after meeting with a young group of women facing similar problems, that someone in the group referred me to another doctor.

After months of waiting for an appointment, I finally got an appointment with my new oncologist, Dr. Julia Smith at NYU Langone Health. She listened to me and validated my feelings. She agreed that, given my past, I should be closely monitored for breast cancer.

Although I was relieved, intense surveillance takes its toll on you. Every six months I had a contrast-enhanced breast MRI or ultrasound and mammogram, each time holding my breath as I waited for the results.

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

Any new parent will tell you that after having a baby, your outlook on almost every aspect of life changes. Me too, and my anxiety about the breast cancer diagnosis only increased.

The thought that my own child might have to watch me go through cancer treatment like I did with my mother was almost unbearable. After 12 months of breastfeeding and dealing with clogged milk ducts that felt like lumps in my breasts, I’d had enough.

Over the years of observation, I told my doctor that I firmly believed that I would eventually need a prophylactic double mastectomy. For a while she encouraged me to continue observing. I agreed because it had never been the right time for me, either personally or professionally. Plus, I didn’t have any genetic mutations, so there was no clear answer whether to have surgery or not.

But here’s the thing. Observation is exactly what it sounds like, just observation. It does not reduce the risk of developing breast cancer. It only helps detect potential breast cancer at a stage that can be survived with treatment.

So when my daughter was one and a half years old, I told my oncologist that I was now taking this surgery very seriously. She agreed.

I am fortunate to live in New York City, where medical care is some of the best in the world, as well as tremendous health benefits, none of which I take for granted. women.

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

The first involved completely removing my breast tissue, saving my nipples to give me some semblance of normalcy, and installing expanders as part of the reconstruction. The expanders stretched my skin to make room for the implants, which I eventually received during a second surgery four months later.

The first operation was difficult. I felt like a bus full of screaming children had just driven over my chest. But the relief that came after the operation was undeniable. Yes, I was in pain, but the pain was temporary and was not accompanied by any additional cancer treatment. I finally became a “survivor.” I was one of the lucky ones.

I am now two months past my second surgery, during which I replaced the expanders I received during the first surgery with implants. Much easier operation than the first one.

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 last seven months, all I feel is immense gratitude – gratitude for my family and friends for endless support, grateful to the employer who gave me all the time I needed to recover, and grateful for the relief I feel now that everything is behind me.

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