A Long Line of Strong Women

I am proud to say that I come from a long line of very strong women—from my great-grandmother, who was widowed at a young age during the Great Depression and had to fight to keep her 3 children, to my grandmother, who had a tough childhood, worked hard to overcome adversity, found true love with my grandfather, and worked while raising 5 kids, to my mother, who raised 3 children on her own, put herself through nursing school, and dedicated her life to her career caring for older adults.

I am extremely proud to have those women as my role models. However, being strong women was not the only thing they had in common: They all battled breast cancer. My great-grandmother had a mastectomy and survived. My grandmother, with a bilateral diagnosis 15 years after the first one, had 2 mastectomies and survived. Their cancers were detected early.

My mother, however, was diagnosed with stage 4 metastatic breast cancer that had traveled to her bones. She battled with strength and grace for nearly 4 years, cycling through many medications, rounds of chemotherapy and radiation, and hospitalizations. It was my honor and privilege to be a caregiver and advocate for my mother during her battle, particularly in her last year. One of the best decisions I ever made was to take a leave of absence from my career to be with her during her final months.

On October 8, 2022, my brother, sister, and I sat at my mom’s bedside and held her hand as she took her last breath. She fought like a warrior for several years, but her body couldn’t take any more treatments. She was finally at peace and pain-free…no more breast cancer. How is one supposed to even feel in that moment?

I felt like my heart had been ripped into a million pieces. I felt emptiness, knowing I was no longer her caregiver. I felt completely lost. However, I also felt a sense of peace and relief because she was no longer suffering or in pain. In the weeks following, we poured ourselves into planning her services and honoring her: cleaning out and selling the home in which we grew up and taking care of all of the necessary business.

Then everything suddenly stopped and became quiet. That was the start of a 2-year journey for me—a journey of self-reflection, community outreach, research, family history, doctor’s appointments, and genetic testing.

My genetic testing showed that at age 50, I had a 52% lifetime risk of developing breast cancer. That’s a hard pill to swallow. I always knew I would be at higher risk than the general population, given my family history, but I never thought that I would have a 1 in 2 chance of developing breast cancer. I had always been very proactive with my testing: mammograms and ultrasounds every 6 months and breast MRIs every 6 months after that. I’ve had multiple biopsies and callbacks for further testing with the wait-and-watch approach to hopefully “catch it early,” which is a process that is probably all too familiar to many women.

I have also watched other family members and friends battle this disease. In this past year alone, breast cancer has continued to plague us on a few fronts. My male cousin with Down syndrome was diagnosed with HER2 + breast cancer, which is uncommon in people with his condition. He underwent countless treatments and is “kicking cancer’s butt,” as he likes to say. One of my closest friends was diagnosed with early-stage breast cancer. She caught it early and had a lumpectomy and radiation and is doing well. And sadly, in January, we lost another beautiful soul, my friend Sandy, who battled breast cancer for 12 years. Sandy was one of the most courageous women I have ever known. Instead of letting the disease beat her, she dedicated her life to raising awareness and started a nonprofit organization, Breast Friends Fund, that has raised nearly $2 million for breast cancer research, with 100% of proceeds raised going directly toward research for a cure. She was my friend and inspiration. Our entire community mourned her loss.

After a lot of perspective, research, and careful consideration, instead of “waiting and watching,” I chose to act. I decided to undergo a proactive double mastectomy to reduce my risk from 52% to 1%. Some would call that decision drastic; some would call it brave. All I know is, as a mother of 3 children who watched their grandmother fight this disease bravely, I had a responsibility to make a decision that would hopefully allow me to be with them longer and live a life free of breast cancer. I don’t know what my future holds, but I am hopeful.

I am still in the middle of my journey. On August 20, 2025, I had the surgery. Although the initial pathology results came back as benign, during my 2-week post-op appointment with my breast surgeon, she walked me through the pathology report. My right breast had 3 types of abnormal cells, which are all known markers linked to breast cancer. This was not news that I was expecting to hear that day, but you could imagine how emotional and validating it was. She turned to me and said, “You did the right thing, at the right time.”

As I recover from surgery and move forward, I’m proud to share my story with others. This path is not for everyone, but I know in my heart it was right for me. If I can leave readers with any message, it is to be proactive and take care of your body and mind. Educate yourself about your risk and family history and truly understand that risk. Stay on top of your screening exams, and explore genetic testing if it makes sense for you. We don’t have to sit and watch this disease take our mothers, sisters, daughters, and friends. We can do something about it!

Gianna Jablonowski is associate director of strategic marketing, immunology dermatology at AbbVie.