Seven women in one family who had their breasts and ovaries removed after testing positive for 'Angelina Jolie gene' learn their results may have been WRONG - and there could be dozens more

7 women in family who had surgeries for 'Jolie gene' learn results may have been wrong 

Kathy Mathes, 37 (top left), from Colorado, tested positive for a mutation of the BRCA gene in 2015. The gene carries an increased risk of developing breast and ovarian cancer. Ten family members also tested positive and seven, including Mathes, decided to have preventive surgeries. Mathes and her sister (bottom left) had both breasts, their ovaries and fallopian tubes removed. Their mother (second from left, on right), three aunts (right) and an unidentified cousin (inset) only had surgery to remove their ovaries and fallopian tubes. In 2019, a genetic counselor told the family that the gene mutation they had didn't significantly increase the risk of cancer.

The Plain Truth has been reporting this since 2013

here is the link:
Did Angelina Jolie Make A Mistake By Acting On The 'Breast Cancer Gene' Theory? UPDATED!!!!

Yes, The Plain Truth was up to the minute on this one too:

Removing Healthy Breast of Little Benefit to Breast Cancer Patients


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Double mastectomy 'doesn't boost chance of surviving cancer': Women who have less drastic surgery live just as long


NEW A study by researchers from Stanford University said the death rate after ten years in almost 200,000 breast cancer patients was the same if they had less invasive lumpectomies.

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Reasons Not to Assume the Preventive Surgery Is the Best—or Only–Solution

Having a preventive double mastectomy based on a test for a BRCA1 gene mutation is being touted as the most effective way to avoid breast cancer. But is it? Breast tissue goes beyond the breasts and into the chest cavity, under the arms, in the abdomen, and above the collarbone. Not all of that will be removed, so the risk of developing breast cancer still exists. What you eat and the activities you engage in will affect all the cells in your body, not just the ones that are removed.[shutterstock_46841341]

The breast cancer risk for those with the gene mutation may not be as high as you think to begin with (or as high as they Myriad Genetics company and doctors are telling you). The statistics being tossed around claiming that there’s up to an 87 percent chance of developing breast cancer when you test positive for the gene mutation are based on studies of women who had lots of breast and ovarian cancer cases in their families.

Those patients wouldn’t have needed genetic testing to tell them they had an elevated risk of some kind or that they needed to be particularly diligent about their routine breast exams, diet, habits, and physical activity. Someone with the BRCA1 gene mutation and only one case of breast cancer in their family would most likely not have an 80 percent risk. It would probably be much lower than that (and again, the risk would correlate to the lifestyle), and hardly a reason to opt for a preventive double-mastectomy. In essence, the gene testing tells you nothing new, and instead can frighten you into an unnecessary surgery that will permanently alter your body, your mind, and your life.

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Katie Jurado



by Marianna Trzeciak

Like Christina Applegate and Ann Jillian, Angelina Jolie has brought the decision for a preventative double mastectomy to the fore. Before I married my husband, I told him that I might make their very same decision someday. However, three children and twenty years later, I still have my breasts.

To say that the decision is a personal one barely touches the profound depths that a woman plumbs when considering elective amputation. However, just because a decision is personal does not mean that it is insulated. Here is my story:

I was born on the second anniversary of my Aunt Marion’s death at age 41 of breast cancer. Aunt Marion was survived by her husband and a three-year-old son, whose life was never the same. The other survivors were her parents, brothers and sister, Eleanore, who is my mother and who was never the same, either.

Aunt Marion’s husband remarried a widow with children, most likely for the sake of the son. It was a total Cinderella fake-out. The woman would soon be a widow for the third time, as my uncle “had a heart attack and fell down the stairs” as I was told. My cousin grew up as the odd-man-out, sometimes being locked in a closet for whatever childishness that his stepmother took as a transgression. One day my cousin walked home from school, only to find all of his family photos (of himself as a baby with Aunt Marion and his father) strewn all over the street and in the garbage can. The stepmother had adopted him for the Social Security and just as quickly booted him out of the house when he came of age.

I grew up horribly afraid of losing my mother to breast cancer. I used to pray for her especial protection any time I heard the word “cancer,” which was a pretty popular word in the 1970s in New Jersey. My father’s mother, Katherine, died at the age of 65 of breast cancer. I am of 100% Polish stock, and began to wonder whether it was a hereditary curse—one from both sides of my family and therefore surely inescapable.

Reaching menarche early did not help me set my mind to other things; soon after there were many newspaper articles stating that early menarche was a major risk factor for breast cancer. And at around age 14, I began praying for myself to be a survivor. (In my mind, it was never a matter of “if,” but of “when.”)

Being the scholarly sort, I threw myself into studies, which were always rushed so that I could finish them “before I get cancer.” I graduated Princeton in three years and immediately went on to Rutgers Law School, which offered me an amazing scholarship. Who gets a scholarship for law school? I did not even seriously consider other law schools, because I did not want any school debt to burden “what might be the last years of my life”–you know, my mid-twenties.

After a few years of litigation practice, it occurred to me that I was still alive. Had I dodged the genetic bullet? Or perhaps my odd little practices of not getting too close to the television, the paper copier, and later, the microwave, were all adding up to a set of valuable preventative measures. Perhaps I could realize the deepest dream of my heart and have children? Would that be too selfish?

My mother, Eleanore, was diagnosed at age 60 with estrogen-receptor breast cancer. There was talk of a genetic component, but the diagnosis came one or two years before the term “breast cancer gene” (“BRCA”), which is a misleading term for a gene that humans have to protect them from things like breast cancer, but in which some people have a nullifying mutation.

Just as Mommy was recuperating from her right-sided mastectomy, I was gaining hope. Her breast cancer had been caught early, due to screening. This put Eleanore ahead of Marion and Katherine, who discovered they had breast cancer when their breasts were hardened with the disease and their backs were wracked with pain from metastasis.

My mother had options, such as Tamoxifen, which she rejected (and might have regretted rejecting; I’m really not sure). I searched for alternative treatments and became well-versed in the latest “hocus-pocus,” as my family might say. Although my mother also declined the offer of these medicinal nutrients, to this day, I respect the research on them. And, over the last few years, I have increasingly taken a broad array of vitamins and minerals, such as vitamin C and the B complex and magnesium. Plus, in the last few years particularly, I have taken Iodarol (two forms of iodine), DIM (a special concentration of cruciferous vegetables), mushrooms, rosemary, turmeric, milk thistle and such. Most recently the fat soluble vitamins (A,D, E and K), lycopene, and natural progesterone have risen to the top of my daily list.

Well, just as Aunt Marion’s passing lit the fire under Eleanore’s dupa to get married (in her thirties—we are an oddly late-blooming family for one that has “too many hormones”), my mother’s diagnosis lit the fire under my dupa, and I met the nicest of the nice young men I was wont to meet.  And before we married I told him that I desired children and wanted to be a stay-at-home mother (just in case I died and left a three-year old, who would need to have had every single moment with me leading up to that point). Also, I told him that I was in favor of preventative mastectomy. He appreciated my truthfulness, and I appreciated his sportingness. And, here we are twenty years later.

Our first child was born several months after I turned thirty, the age otherwise known as the months past the year of no return to those of us in breast cancer families. (“Early menarche and delaying childbearing until after age 30 are prime risk factors for breast cancer…blah, blah, blah.”)

And then I nursed my little baby girl.

And the sun and the moon rose together and never set.

Did you know that a woman’s nipple is not just one “hole,” but rather a cluster of gland endings from which runs out the most important food in the world, human breast milk? Did you know that breast milk provides protective immune boosters for your baby? Did you know that human breast milk has a higher ratio of sugars than some other mammals’ milk, because these sugars help the human brain grow? Did you know that ancient Chinese wisdom holds that breast milk is “white blood”?

Did you know that nursing binds mother and child, emotionally, physically (through oxytocin), and even intellectually and spiritually? Did you know that a child often shows her humor and playfulness while she is nursing? She will poke and wink and laugh and spit out her mouthful as she plays with nursing mother? Did you know that a child cannot help but relax when mother is settled in for a good long session of nursing?

With only three children, I have nursed for over 10 years.

My breasts are not sex symbols; they are part of the national defense, just as much as are the strong legs or arms of a soldier. And so my thinking has changed: why would I want to amputate my breasts?

My most beloved mother, Eleanore, passed away at age 72. She had survived breast cancer for twelve years, the years in which her first 4 grandchildren were born and were loved by her immensely. She knew that a fifth grandchild was on the way. I whispered in her ear, “Mommy, I think that you are going to go to God before I do. Please ask Him to send me a third child.” And six months after my mother’s passing, I was 40 years old and pregnant for the third time (with my parents’ sixth grandchild).

As a descendant of a breast cancer mother, my father was not surprised to end up with prostate cancer, which can run in breast cancer families. He, too, was a twelve-year survivor. He got to finish my parents’ work of being grandparents to all six of the grandchildren.

My husband, children and I have been intimately involved in the care and hospicing of my parents and one uncle, all in the last decade of our family’s life. Each term of care is a midwifery of sorts as the loved one is “birthed into Heaven.” But there is no due date, and parting is such sweet sorrow. My father died in our master bedroom, where my husband and I now sleep. My husband, children and I are still recuperating from living with so much death.  But, we would not change a thing about our decisions, either.

And so, at age 48, I contemplate why I am not part of the sorority of breast cancer patients—at least not yet.

Eleanore’s posthumous medical records show that she was a BRCA1 patient. My father refused my request for testing. Neither of my parents wanted to “be responsible” for their descendants’ cancer.

If the genetic testing for breast cancer reduces in price from the ridiculous $3000.00 cost right now, and if I am retired and not interested in whether a BRCA mutation could damage my chances of being hired down the line (I’m still home now), I shall be tested for the benefit of my children. (Of course, Obamacare may make such a test undesirable for anyone, as it might lead to death panel concerns.)

Yes, at age 48, I spend more time wondering why I have not yet developed breast cancer, than wondering if and when. I contemplate how being in a breast cancer family is socially defining. That is, I come from a people who absolutely adore their mothers (not a bad thing!). I come from a people with helicopter mothering (mostly a good thing!). Women in my family are up on a pedestal as Sofia, Wisdom personified.

So, I have done some research on BRCA1. This mutation most likely revealed itself several hundred years ago at or around the northern Polish-Russian border area. From these Finnic-Slavs, the mutation was probably married into the Ashkenazim, whom I believe to have such a preponderance of breast cancer for the same reason my family might: delayed childbearing, perhaps for educational purposes.  Other people with a high incidence of  BRCA mutation challenges include the French-Canadians, which are the people from whom Angelina Jolie’s mother descended.

But where are the roots of the BRCA mutations? Sometimes I ponder the history of the Poles, who claim to have Scythian-Sarmatian blood. Scythian-Sarmatians, in turn, are thought to be the descendants of the perhaps not-so-mythical Amazons.

The Amazons were legendary for warrior-women, who each cut off one breast in order to fight, it was thought. Could these Amazon women merely have been making Angelina Jolie’s decision for preventative mastectomy?

My husband still smilingly calls me his “trophy wife,” a term which does not seem to fit with my mature figure. He also calls me a “fierce mother,” because of my love for our children, whom I homeschool, and because of my love for other people’s children, as evinced in my pro-life activities. So, perhaps, Amazon woman blood does flow through my veins. Perhaps that is why I have not yet chosen to make Angelina’s decision.

[Marianna Trzeciak’s writings have been published in American Thinker, LifeNews, LifeSiteNews, and Catholic and secular print news sources.]


Meanwhile from the mailbag:

"The more I see of the things this world values, the less I want of the things this world values. As I drive to a local church most mornings for 6:30 a.m. Mass and park by the most prized cars on earth, I think, 'What a nightmare to prevent theft, scratches, to keep it maintained!' And on the way out of Mass I hear the stories of repair shops as the owners complain about this and that fancy gadget in their cars not working properly.

"I go into Mass where the designer handbags lay beside women dressed in thousand dollar outfits, pedicured, decorated toenails poking though shoes that cost a week's income for me, hair styles and color treatments which cost women a fortune at the beauty salon and at least thirty minutes to curl and fix each day. Huge diamonds decorate their manicured fingers; often many fingers are covered in diamonds along with the necklaces and bracelets...

"I clean million dollar homes where the workmen and landscapers clatter away all day as I make beds with tons of dry-clean-only comforters and pillow shams and decorative pillows, clean thousand-square-foot. or larger luxury bathrooms, marble counter tops the wife is terrified I might damage... How much time, energy, and money these people spend on things which other people consider important to keep up with the Joness!

"And in the end, they will meet God as they were created by God, naked, no house, no Corvette, no luxury bathroom, no landscaping crew .... nothing but what they have done with the missions God gave them to do. 'How have you fulfilled the mission I gave you?'

"Many people ignore the mission God gave them as they work to acquire things which this world values but which God considers impediments to the reason He created them. 'It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to enter Heaven.'

"Each day that I encounter this world I am more grateful that I am not part of this world. I am a pilgrim here, anticipating Heaven, each day working out my salvation with fear and trembling, praying to do the job God wants me to do because His approval is the approval I seek."

God bless you!
Katie Jurado, Duluth, Georgia

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Did Angelina Jolie Make A Mistake By Acting On The 'Breast Cancer Gene' Theory?

Sayer Ji
Activist Post

The 'prophylactic' removal of women's breasts due to BRCA1/BRCA2 status has become a disturbingly popular trend, and increasingly it is being celebrated in the mainstream media and medical establishments as a reasonable choice. But does the scientific evidence itself refute this approach?

Angelina Jolie's recent announcement in a New York Times op-ed that she had a 'prophylactic' double mastectomy due to her BRCA1/BRCA2 status has disturbing implications, some of which we covered late last year in connection with Allyn Rose, the 24-year old Miss America contestant who announced she would be undergoing a double mastectomy to "prevent" breast cancer.

Beyond the fact that as high-profile celebrities their decisions will affect millions of women's perception of the procedure, likely making them more accepting of the concept, their decisions also reflect profound misconceptions about gene-mediated disease risk embedded deeply within popular consciousness, from which prevailing medical opinion is hardly immune.

First, there is a common misconception about the role that the so-called breast cancer susceptibility genes, BRCA1 and BRCA2, play in breast cancer disease risk and prognosis.
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