Take that money (and those genes) to the bank

penny2A couple weeks ago, I called my health insurance company because I finally got the EOB (explanation of benefits) for the genetic test I had back in December. The total amount billed to insurance by the medical center was more than $5,000. Of that total, the insurance company paid a bit less than half.

Before I had the test done, the genetic counselor told me that the company doing the test — Ambry Genetics, one of the companies I could choose from depending on which version of the test I selected — would call me to authorize any out-of-my-pocket cost above $100. As I never got a call from Ambry, I assumed that $100 was the most I would have to pay. Not a bad price if it bought some peace of mind.

(Note: Your mileage may vary. Insurance companies do not always cover genetic testing; they usually require a definite indication of a genetic risk because of personal or family health history.)

But here’s the truth of it. My out-of-pocket cost was – nothing.


Not even one bright, shiny, Lincoln penny.

According to the insurance company, by law, the testing company cannot bill me. So even the $100 I was expecting to pay remains in the bank. And that’s good news.

The other good banking news appears in this paragraph on the report of my test results:

“If you have a personal history of cancer, you may wish to pursue DNA banking. DNA banking involves providing a DNA sample to a facility who will store it for a set period of time. Since it is always more informative to perform genetic testing on someone who has been diagnosed with cancer, DNA banking helps ensure that your DNA sample would be available to your family members, should additional genetic testing options become available in the future.”

This was the first I’d heard of DNA banking.  But as this chart shows, the list of gene mutations – and the related cancer syndromes – that can be tested for is lengthy and ever-changing (note the recent additions in red). As the field of genetics grows, allowing us to track our individual health inheritance, so grows the need to compile and update the genetic formulas that affect us.

The various cancer-related DNA banks scattered in research facilities around the country DNAhave been collecting data on cancer genetics for a while. As is too often true with technology, however, there’s a compatibility issue that impedes researchers who want to collect, access, and compare information in their study of cancer.

But now, the National Cancer Institute has launched a project they call the Genomic Data Commons. Researchers in this project are collecting, standardizing, and streamlining access to these data sets from cancer patients across the country. The project is part of President Obama’s National Cancer Moonshot, spearheaded by Vice President Joe Biden, whose son died of cancer. So far, the data collected equals 4.1 petabytes (petabytes!) of information (1 petabyte = 1 million gigabytes).

Whether it’s about the money or genes in the bank, the situation for those of us affected by cancer grows a little brighter.

And the Answer Is In

The phone rang promptly at 8 a.m. this morning and, still clad in my pajamas and robe, I noted the caller ID on the screen and knew the answer I’d been waiting for was on the other end of the line.

I let the phone ring a third time so I could acknowledge the moment I was in.  The next moment, when I picked up the phone, would change my future one way or the other.

Mercifully, the answer I got from the genetic counselor was the one I’d been hoping for.

Of the 17 genes tested from my blood sample, none showed a mutation related to breast cancer.  Not BRCA 1 or 2, not PALB2, not BRIP1, nor any of the remaining genes, too many to be named here, that increase the risk.

If you saw me today, you might have said that I stood a little straighter, breathed a little deeper, and felt a little lighter.  You often don’t realize how heavy a burden is until you can put it down.


Waiting for a Phone Call


phoneNext Thursday morning, at precisely 8 a.m., I will find out the next step in my ongoing journey in Cancerland, a place you can never really leave once you arrive. That is the time I have set aside for a phone call from the genetic counselor I met with before Christmas. This will be the third conversation I’ve had with the counselor, but this is the critical one because it determines what I do next: fall back into the web of anxiety and ongoing medical procedures, or take one very deep, free breath.

My first conversation with the genetic counselor was about 5 years ago, after I completed treatment for breast cancer. My oncologist suggested that I consider getting a genetic test to determine whether the cancer I had was related to a mutation in either of the two most popular genes that cause it. (I say “most popular” because, as geneticists are discovering, there are other genes involved in breast cancer).

On the appointed day, I drove the 90 minutes up the freeway to the counselor’s office, where we reviewed every piece of family healthy history that I could recall –which relatives had died and which were still living, the cause of death of each deceased relative, and the health conditions in the relatives still alive. I did my best to remember every story, every shred of health information I’d picked up over the years of being part of this family.

Yes, there is my grandmother who had an undefined breast cancer around 1970 that eventually recurred and took her life about 12 years later. And yes, there are various other relatives who had cancer of various types:  colon, bone, and skin. But no other instances of breast cancer and none of ovarian cancer, the two telltale markers of a genetic propensity for people like me.

This recording of my extended family’s health history took quite a bit of time that day. One advantage of having a large (nominally Catholic) family is that you’ve got lots of opportunities to spot any patterns of illness, cancer or otherwise. Among my 4 siblings, 9 aunts and uncles, and 35 cousins, my family health map was pretty clear of signs of a genetic problem.  The counselor thought it was not likely I had the bad genes. And so, I decided then not to have the test.

The next conversation with the counselor was about 3 years ago, when I learned a close relative had also been diagnosed with breast cancer. I called to determine whether that occurrence increased the likelihood of my having the genetic flaw.  But the other relative had a different type of breast cancer, at a different stage of life, and had been on hormone replacement therapy. The counselor’s answer was, once again, “not likely.”

So, you may be wondering, why the third conversation? Why ask again when the odds seem ever in my favor?

Here’s why:

The research on breast cancer is constantly evolving, and there is more and more evidence that the type of cancer I had – triple negative – is driven by genetics more often than the “garden variety” hormone-related breast cancers. Oversimplified media reports imply that most breast cancers are related to gene flaws, which is simply not true.  Only 5% to 10% of hormone-positive breast cancers relate to genetic deficiencies, but the burgeoning research on triple negative cancer shows that as many as 15% of these cases relate to genetics. Though that number is far from a majority, the possibility is great enough to make testing reasonable.

The other factor is that Myriad Genetics, the company that initially developed the genetic test for BRCA1 and BRCA2, was forced to give up its patent on these genes in 2013. This ruling by the U.S. Supreme Court meant that other companies were free to develop genetic tests for breast cancer (and Myriad could no longer get away with charging several thousand dollars for the test).

So, when my oncologist once again suggested the genetic test at my checkup back in November, I decided I’d bite the proverbial bullet and get it done, if for no other reason than to find out whether my children would have anything to worry about.

The test itself is simple – they draw blood and send it off for analysis. The results, however, may not be so simple.

First, there’s a choice of which test to take:

  1. the one that checks for only BRCA 1 and 2
  2. the one that also looks for other genes implicated in breast/ovarian cancer (PALB2, BRIP 1, and another whose name I can’t recall)
  3. or the one that finds every genetic anomaly you have (as far as they can be currently identified)

In other words, the choice is this – how much anxiety do you want to introduce into your days?

In my situation, it no longer seems enough to look for just BRCA1 and 2. But I also don’t need to worry about a bunch of genes that might not be functioning properly but aren’t causing trouble and about which I can do nothing. So I chose the second option.

Ten more days to wait for a phone call.