Amy's Story

(24x36) Black and Grey Tattoo, Mixed Media on Metal 

My mother died in 2020 at the age of 56 from breast cancer. Her mother, my grandmother, died at the age of 58 from breast cancer. Her mother, my great-grandmother, passed away at the age of 39 from ovarian cancer. I am a woman. I have a daughter. 

I used to think that being a woman inherently doomed me to this fate, that my breasts or my ovaries, my body, what brought about my motherhood, would betray me. 

I recently found a lump in my right breast. I am 37. At the doctor, I was asked if I would like to do a genetic test. I did and ultimately found out I have a mutation of my PALB2 gene. The gene mutation causes both breast cancer and ovarian cancer.

My mom didn’t know, my grandmother didn’t know, and my great-grandmother definitely didn’t know. 

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I ultimately was found to NOT have cancer at this time. Thankfully. 

This gene mutation, however, gives me a nearly 60% chance of developing breast cancer in my life. If I do develop it, it will be aggressive and resistant to treatment. 

With this mutation, the recommended course of action is either screening every six months or a double Mastectomy. 

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I feel like waiting for it to happen will feel like waiting for death to take me early. I am choosing to have surgery to remove both of my breasts and ovaries in hopes that I get a few extra decades. This is still not guaranteed, but I have to do something. 

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what makes a woman a woman. Obviously, it isn’t always bodies we are born into. Sometimes, the bodies we are born into are flawed. Of course, I will still be a woman without these physical parts. I am a woman and will remain one because I am one in my soul. 

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Also, in naming this mutation, this random mutation that has invaded my family, I feel like I have finally named the demon that haunted us, and I can cast it out and show the future 

generations how to fight now that we know how. (written by Amy Beshears) 

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Bird: Meadowlark 

When I met Amy, I didn’t know the bird exactly. I needed to sit with her story and reflect on our time together to make sure I chose the right bird. I knew it had to be just right. After much thought, I decided I wanted to tattoo a bird that represented hope. So, I chose the Meadowlark. The birds sing from perches set over grasslands and prairies. Their song is sweet and unmistakably beautiful; it's one of my favorites. (written by Naomi)