I was diagnosed with skin cancer six weeks ago, and today I am having the cancer surgically removed. At times, I’ve given little thought to the mutated cells I have been carrying around, but other days, their existence has weighed heavily on me.
This isn’t my first bout with cancer. I was diagnosed with breast cancer 15 years ago, the cancer that precipitated the adoption of my daughters. My breast cancer was genetic, my skin cancer is not.
But, it is days like today that I thank God Elle and Bunny are not my biological daughters. Everyone has their own unique sets of genes, the blueprint that makes us who we are. Sometimes the genes are harmless, like whether one is male or female, or if they have blue eyes or green, and whether the blonde hair is real or if it will need to be chemically enhanced. And sometimes, the mutations are deadly.
I come from a family with a strong history of breast cancer, heart disease, and fair skinned, blue eyed blondes. I may be genetically predisposed to certain diseases, but I also need to control my environment more. I need to live a heather life, I need to be more proactive with my health, and I need to wear more sunscreen.
As I look at my daughters, I am so thankful they have dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin. I know they have their own genetic makeup that may challenge us one day. And I know genetics isn’t everything. Bad things can still happen.
But just for today, as I carry the fear and anxiety of my own genetic makeup in with me to the doctor’s office, I am relieved my daughters don’t share everything with me and aren’t carbon copies of myself.
For today, I am relieved they are adopted.
