Resemblance

"Are you two sisters?"
"I knew that was your mother the minute she walked in the room."
"Do people tell you all the time that you look like your mother?"

Yes. Since childhood. Despite different eye color and haircolor, that I can get a tan while she freckles, and that the clothes she wore in her 20s were so tiny that I couldn't hope to fit into them past the age of 11, I have always been able to see how similar we are.

For some women, "you sound just like your mother" are fighting words, an accusation to be hurled and defended against. When Mom relayed the story of the London cab driver asking the sisters question when I was 16, she laughed and told her friends that she was worried I would be insulted. But I have always been pleased by and proud of the comparison.

Now, as if appearances were not strong enough, we have all the proof we need that we are indeed related - Mom has tested positive for the BRCA 1 gene mutation, as we suspected she would based on my results.

This means that she has a 56-87% chance of developing breast cancer by age 70 (vs. the 7% chance the general population has). It also means her risk of ovarian cancer is as high as 40% (vs. 2% for non-mutation carriers).

Although she has big decisions to make in the near future about measures that can dramatically reduce her chances of developing these diseases, for now we are relieved that there is no immediate concern - her mammogram and other scans came back clear. The maternal instinct may be even stronger than the genetic bond - Mom said that her first thought on getting that good news was not "Thank goodness I don't have cancer," but instead, "Thank goodness I can focus on helping Courtney get well over the next few months."

For which I am very grateful. So far, I am cautiously optimistic that the second half of my chemotherapy will go as smoothly as the first part - I had my fifth of eight sessions on Thursday, and apart from some increased sleepiness, I have been feeling remarkably well the past few days. Five down, three to go, followed by surgery in April and hopefully getting the reconstruction and recovery completed by the summer.

And now that I have finished the first chemotherapy drug combination and am on to a new drug, I am even starting to see some new peach fuzz sprouting on my head. Although it will take some time, I look forward to the day when a cab driver catches sight of us in the rearview mirror and can't help but tell me how much I look like my mother.