The Quiet Battle Before the Scan

As someone living with a BRCA1 mutation, there is a certain weight that comes before each screening. Next month, it’s time for my ovarian cancer check, and no matter how many times I do it, the feelings never really settle. It’s a quiet kind of fear, one that creeps into your chest when you least expect it. The scan is routine, yet the thoughts are anything but.

At 35, deciding to remove my breasts felt like a clear choice. It was hard, yes, but it was also something I could act on. I had control; I could do something. But this, this is different. Ovarian cancer screening is less precise, less certain, and the preventative option, surgery, means losing something I am still holding out hope for: motherhood.

I’m in my early 40s now. People often ask if I want children, and the answer is yes, I still do. But it is a complicated yes. Every year I delay risk-reducing surgery, I carry the knowledge that my risk remains. And every year I think, maybe just a little more time. Maybe one more chance. Maybe this dream of holding a child that is mine isn’t quite over yet.

The hardest part is knowing that there is no perfect answer; only choices, and grief, and hope, all held in the same heart.

For anyone else who knows this space, the space between science and emotion, between fear and desire, I see you. Whether you’re considering freezing your eggs, holding out for the right partner, or quietly mourning what might never be, your feelings are valid. You are not alone.

Here are a few ways I am learning to cope:

• Journalling: Writing down what I’m feeling helps me release some of the pressure. It makes the thoughts less heavy, more real, and a little easier to carry.

• Speaking to a counsellor or therapist: Having a space to say the things I am scared to tell others has been life-giving. This journey is emotional and deserves support.

• Connecting with others in the BRCA community: Hearing other stories helps me feel less isolated. Shared experiences build strength.

• Practising mindfulness and breathwork: These keep me grounded when the anxiety builds. A few slow breaths can shift the whole day.

• Being gentle with myself: Not every day will be strong or clear. Some days are sad, and that’s okay too.

If you are walking this path, please remember that you do not have to make these decisions alone. If you have any questions or worries, speak to your medical team; they are there to help you make the right choice for your life and your body.

And if you would like to follow more of my personal story, the highs and the heartbreaks, I share openly on Instagram @chartheprevivor. You are welcome there, just as you are.

We may be carrying heavy things, but we are not doing it alone.