Because I realized that while I can’t control the changing winds like I dreamed of doing as a child, I can control what I do with this new information. I can educate myself. I can eat better. Exercise more. Use this as an excuse to move to one of the Blue Zone regions (those famously healthy areas of the world with unusually high concentrations of people over the age of 100), and live out my days surfing in Costa Rica, or meditating with cats in Japan.

Now I know, and now I can do something about it. So much of the worst of cancer comes when you find out too late, but at this point, being proactive about cancer screenings is just part of my health maintenance. I have a yearly visit to the oncologist, and MRIs every three years. I know my breasts and keep an eye out for any changes. All of this…it’s just what I do now. And it’s okay.

Knowing how likely it is that any one of us could get cancer, the fact that I know now that I am almost guaranteed to, and I will be very regularly and thoroughly screened for it — well (I rationalize), doesn’t that actually decrease my mortality rate compared to the average person? Sure, I have a higher than average risk of getting cancer. But maybe now, with this information, I actually have a higher than average chance of successfully beating it.

Early detection is key. And I have all the tools to catch it. It’s like I just showed up with an unfair advantage against the rest of you suckers. This is Supermarket Sweep, baby. I’m Team 1. And I’m going straight for those motherfuckin’ turkeys.

Besides, in all likelihood, given my family history and this type of mutation, I won’t be affected by this for another 20 years, if at all. By then I will have had kids and lived a long and super-sexy life. And my boobs will probably be down to my knees by then anyway. Having a prophylactic double mastectomy, oophorectomy, and hysterectomy might not be a big deal.

Moreover, those prevention-oriented surgeries might not even turn out to be necessary. So much happens in science in 10 years, let alone 20. We might have new procedures, new therapies — hell, even a cure! We might look back at this era and shake our heads at how absolutely barbaric it was that we once recommended women lop off their breasts and cut out their reproductive systems just to increase their chances of living. It seems absurd even writing it out now.

So for now, I hug my plushy ovaries. I give thanks for the healthy years I still have ahead of me. I warm up to the idea of seeing my oncologist more often than I see my bestie across the country, as much as I’d like that to be different. I appreciate the family and friends who surrounded me with love, resources, and encouraging words as this hurricane moved in. They may not be mutants like me, but they are superheroes in their own right. And I continue to be grateful that there are things that I can dictate — and that in the face of this storm, maybe, just maybe, I can still control the wind.