Free Our Genes

Today, the Supreme Court will begin hearing testimony regarding the patenting of genetic material/DNA.  While there are a lot of people talking about how bad this is, there’s not a whole lot of explanation about WHY you shouldn’t want a private bio-labto own your DNA.  If you haven’t read the book, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, it’s a great example of what goes wrong when scientists use DNA without the permission of the person from whom that DNA came.

Here are reasons why you don’t want Myriad, or anyone else for that matter, to hold a patent on the BRCA gene (or any other gene):

1) No one can do research on these cells except Myriad, which means there are limits to what this DNA could potentially do for science. In fact, Myriad makes so much money just from BRCA testing (at $3000+ a pop) that there’s no reason for them to use your DNA at all, thus making it of no benefit to science whatsoever.  They could just throw it in the garbage!

2) Only Myriad makes money from any scientific developments that come about from using your DNA (so, if they use your genes to make a cancer treatment that makes billions of dollars, you don’t see one cent – although I suppose I’d be thrilled to just be credited by them naming the treatment after me!).  This is basically what happened to Henrietta Lacks, whose family lived in poverty for generations while scientists and labs made millions of dollars on vaccines they developed from her unusual cells.

3) Myriad can charge whatever they want for BRCA testing.  And not all insurances are willing to cover the whole cost, if any.  This puts many people at risk – keeping people from that type of information may as well be considered manslaughter.  Ok, perhaps that’s exaggerating, but seriously – if you don’t have the information you need to make important decisions about your health, it could be a matter of life or death!  Not to mention, getting results back from Myriad can take several weeks, sometimes months.  If your doctor was allowed to do it in an on-site lab, you could have results the next day for less than $200.

4) You can’t get a second opinion on the results of the BRCA test.  If Myriad says you’re clean, then you can’t have anyone else do the test to make sure they’re correct (and, for the record, they have been wrong!).  Likewise, if Myriad says you do have the gene, then you’re likely to have multiple surgeries based on those findings, all without being able to double-check that you do indeed have the mutation and that the surgeries are necessary.

5) Myriad and these other labs are just greedy bastards.  What could possibly be their reason for wanting to own a patent on DNA?  Money.  Pure and simple.  I can’t think of another justification for wanting to withhold anything from the scientific community that could help thousands, if not millions, of people get medical information and treatment that they need.  This is all about greed.

There is, however, one good reason you might want a private lab to own your DNA.  The way I figure it, my DNA has cancer in it.  And if Myriad owns it, then I should be able to sue them for its defectiveness.  So there.

 

Here are some great resources to learn more about this issue:

Joanna Rudnick’s In the Family documentary, for free on PBS.org.

Today’s story on NPR’s Morning Edition.

Sue Friedman’s important blog post.

The ACLU explains its case.

Salt Lake City Tribune (Myriad’s headquarters are in Utah)

Forbes magazine article gives voice to Myriad’s CEO, and shows how much of what he has to say is just lies.

Karma – It’s Contagious

Today was sort of a whirlwind in my breast cancer world.  A faculty member in my department, someone I actually know and have a friendly relationship with, has been diagnosed with breast cancer.  She is having a mastectomy on Tuesday.  There are 51 full-time faculty members in my department.  Now two of them have been diagnosed with breast cancer in the span of three months.  Not to make light of the situation, but I feel like it’s contagious.

But then again, so is karma.  While I was out, two faculty members took over my three courses with only four days notice.  So, I have offered to take over my colleague’s course and will be teaching it for the rest of the semester – only four more weeks.  Many people went out of their way for me while I was out and without really even knowing me – I have only been teaching at this school since August.  The least I can do is pay back the favor.  It’s good karma.

Today I also read that Joanna Rudnick has been diagnosed with breast cancer and is scheduled for a mastectomy sometime in the near future.  I don’t know Joanna personally.  Many people in the BRCA community have probably seen her documentary, In the Family, which has helped to bring a lot of people to FORCE.  If you haven’t seen it, you really should (and right now it’s screening free on the PBS website in order to raise awareness for the upcoming Supreme Court debate about gene patenting).  When Joanna was beginning her documentary several years ago and looking for BRCA stories, she and I exchanged a few emails; I went back into my gmail and realized that I had saved them.  At the time, we were both single.  I was a grad student and didn’t have good enough insurance to have prophylactic surgery – not to mention, I wasn’t even ready to do it and back in 2006, it was completely taboo – I didn’t even tell my doctor about it because I was told my insurance could actually drop me because of my genetic status.  Anyway, somehow the conversation petered out and we never did meet to talk about her project.

I obviously read a lot of BRCA blogs, so I know a lot of BRCA stories.  But I was sort of surprised when I read just this brief bit of Joanna’s story:

She was breastfeeding her second daughter when she found her breast cancer, less than a week after a move to the Bay Area with appointments pending for prophylactic surgeries.

I couldn’t help but read into this a bit: like me, Joanna put off prophylactic surgery because she wanted to get married and have a child, or at least explore those possibilities before amputating her breasts.  And, like me, once she was ready to go for the surgeries, it was too late – the cancer got to her first.  Because the story says she is currently in treatment, I’m assuming her cancer was more advanced than mine.

I emailed Joanna.  I’m sure she thinks I’m some nut job and she probably receives hundreds of emails a day from anyone and everyone with a BRCA gene, but I just had to because of how similar our stories seemed.  I suppose I was a bit worried (and I acknowledge that this is very very presumptuous) that like me, Joanna might be really angry with herself for waiting too long.  Of course, like me, she might also feel that it was worth it in order to get the husband and children she clearly wanted and to have the opportunity to breastfeed those children.

I don’t expect to hear back from Joanna – she’s basically a celebrity of sorts!  And maybe it was wrong of me to email her, especially as she’s undergoing cancer treatment.  But again, it did feel like some kind of karma that I had saved those emails, and  maybe now she knows there are people out there whose stories are even closer to hers than she probably thought.

I’ll Take the Physical Challenge

Over the last week, I’ve successfully accomplished several physical challenges.  Here is a bit of assessment of how each went after ten weeks of hiatus from these activities:

Picking up Toddler
Easy as pie.  I have absolutely no problem lifting him, swinging him around, carrying him along with a diaper bag and an armful of groceries, getting him in and out of the carseat, etc, etc.  Unfortunately, he hasn’t gotten any lighter, but my arm muscles certainly have gotten weaker after ten weeks of nearly no use.  So, he’s heavy.  But I’m dealing.  It’s completely worth it!

Jogging
This is not a daily activity for me.  But, every now and then, I forget something in my office, so I jog down the hall from my classroom to the office to grab it.  I did this on Tuesday.  It was an interesting sensation.  My breasts are still jiggly – they’re human flesh, after all, and mostly made of fat.  But they also feel like they’re sort of pinned to my chest wall at the top, sort of like a balloon hanging from a string or a pegboard.

clara-mom-balloons

This is not me nor my child – just an illustration of the balloon tied to a string.

So, even though they move around, they still feel attached at the top, perhaps about 2-3 inches below my clavicle.  When I jogged down the hall, I felt a slight jiggle (nothing nearly like I felt with my previous breasts, which I would have been holding down across my chest while running in a non-sports bra), but mostly I just felt the pulling of that spot where the flap is probably sewn in to hold my breast upright and prevent too much sagging.

Vacuuming
Again, easy as pie.  I know my husband and mother are thrilled to death about that.

Sex
Yes, we did it.  I won’t say it wasn’t different.  While everything “down there” was great (no changes due to abdominal incision or flab removal), there are certainly changes “up top.”  Without getting into too much detail (out of respect for my husband), I will just say that I did feel self-conscious about my breasts.    In the past, my breasts were figuratively and literally a big part of our sex life.  But now, because they are nippleless and have those strange flat pseudo-areolas, I wasn’t sure I wanted them to be an active part of the process.  And, even though my husband has seen my new breasts multiple times, I just wasn’t ready for them to be a part of our intimacy.  So, I wore a camisole and we both just sort of ignored that area.  I think over time I’ll get braver about it, but for now this is how I need it to be, and he respects that.

The End of Recovery

Today I went swimming for the first time since my other “first time” a few weeks ago.  The opening of my left breast incision is so small at this point, and I just couldn’t wait any longer. Of course, pretty much from the moment I got out of the pool, I felt sore right in that spot of the incision, and I still do now 12 hours later.  I just keep telling myself its psychosomatic.  Or I’m being punished for something.

Probably, I’m being punished because I plan to end my recovery on Friday.  What does that mean?  How can I just end my recovery?  Well, I laid around the house for two months. I took my medicine.  I rested.  I walked.  I didn’t vacuum or lift anything over 20 pounds, including my own child.  As of Monday, it will be ten weeks since my surgery, and Dr. Gimbel says at that time I can lift my son and return to using my abdomen and arms as normal.

But I’m doing it on Friday.  Here’s why: one day a week, I have my son all to myself – he doesn’t go to school, and we have a special day together including an activity he likes and a lunch date.  But for the last nine Fridays, he has gone to school since I haven’t been allowed to lift him and therefore cannot be alone with him all day.  This Friday, he is not going to school.  This Friday, we are having our special day.  We will do some errands and possibly go to the zoo.  We will have lunch at our favorite diner.  And I will lift him and hold him and carry him around as much as I want.

Because really, what’s three days – what’s the difference between Friday and Monday?  I’ll tell you the difference.  The difference is that on Friday, I’m done with recovery.  And Monday will just be another day in my life recovered.

(stay tuned for tomorrow’s post, when I will realize that of course this is far from over….tbc)

Let me introduce you to my beer belly

As I’ve said, none of my regular pants fit me anymore. I have lost most of my abdomen, but I still have my wide ass and thighs, and I’m also poor, so new pants aren’t really an option for me right now. So here’s what I’m dealing with.  When I put my pants on in the morning, they don’t look half bad.  They rest on my hips, the abdominal area is nice and smooth, and I have a bit of my previous paunch that hangs over.  You can see in this picture below what my jeans look like when I put them on.

Pants resting on hips as normal

Pants resting on hips as normal

It’s not terrible.  In fact, it’s a huge improvement over my previous belly.  Unfortunately, within about ten minutes of walking around, chasing my son, sitting in a chair, or doing any movement whatsoever, I look like this:

Beer belly

Beer belly

Notice my pants have completely sunk in front and my belly has popped out and over the waistband.  Not only do I look like I’ve been guzzling a few too many down at the track, but I’ve managed to grow my very own male genitalia as well (nothing like Jon Hamm’s, but still noticeable).  And this is with the granny panties holding in my belly!

Now, I don’t normally wear my shirt tucked in (I just did it for the sake of these pictures – aren’t you lucky?).  But I do often wear a sweater that probably lands only an inch or so below my pants waistband, which means that at work, this is probably somewhat noticeable.  Or at least it feels noticeable.  Because really, I feel like this guy:

beer-belly-pic-300x232

I’m sure it’s a combination of my body dysmorphic disorder, along with dealing with such a startling change to my body in such a short period of time, but I really do feel like I look like this.  Even worse, it’s flat out uncomfortable.  I don’t know how those beer guys do it – I can’t stand to feel my pants pinching tightly below my stomach like that.  And, I’m constantly pulling up my pants, so even if the penis isn’t obvious, my grabbing at my pants every time I stand up definitely is.

Of course, the best way around this is to lose the gut.  I don’t think any sort of pants in any size is really going to help this situation.  Instead, I’m just going to have to give up my breakfast twelve-pack of Milwaukee’s Best in exchange for some low-fat granola.