Issue: 2009

A Family Cancer

Kerry, her husband Jacob and their daughter Molly, born free of the cancer mutation. Photo courtesy of the Banik family.
Kerry, her husband Jacob and their daughter Molly, born free of the cancer mutation. Photo courtesy of the Banik family.
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Despite her fears, she was happy with the results of the surgeon’s reconstructive work.

Serendipitous Romance

Several months before the mastectomy, Kerry and some college friends went out for drinks. She was by now attending Mansfield University, to which both she and Sarah transferred for the second half of college. Sarah had graduated in the spring of 2005, while Kerry had one more semester to go.

Mansfield was a small college town, with just one bar. Kerry had been to Mark’s Brothers often, but didn’t recognize the guy in the button-down shirt with earrings and gelled hair.

“I thought he looked like a frat boy, at first. He looked cute, but I thought he would be dumb. Ah, first impressions.”

It turned out that Jacob Banik had just returned from England, where he’d finished a master’s degree in chemistry. He’d been doing research on the same platinum-based cancer drug doctors had used to treat Kerry a decade before.

They held hands for the first time that night, and made plans to meet the next day. Within weeks they were talking about marriage.

“I needed someone who was smart,” Kerry said, years later. “Someone who was,” she paused and looked at Jacob — “dorky.”

On one of their first dates they played TextTwist, an online word game. Kerry appreciated Jacob’s ability to cook, sing, and make her laugh — and could therefore overlook his lack of interest in books, and his love of the Boston Red Sox. (Kerry’s family are fans of the archrival New York Yankees.) His loyalty to his family and desire to be a father were both incredibly attractive.

Jacob said that his background in science allowed him to put the reality of Li-Fraumeni in context. He knows Kerry is doing everything she can to protect herself. The disease, he said, is often the furthest thing from their minds.

“I found what I was looking for, so there was no reason not to talk about [marriage],” he said recently. “I found the things that were important to me – someone to sit down and play word games with me, and not think I was weird; someone who would watch the History Channel; someone who wanted a family, was good with kids, was from a big family, who understands my weirdness because she is just as weird.”

They picked out their wedding rings at Zales. The platinum bands that grace their fingers are symbolic of both the coincidence of their meeting, and the influence of the metal that gave them the opportunity.

Soon, the Baniks were hoping for one thing more: a healthy child. Genetic counselors had years before suggested to Kerry that adoption would be her safest option. It was the only way to ensure that the mutation would not be passed on. Still, Kerry and Jacob wanted their child to be theirs.

Disturbed by the fact that they might need to kill up to ten embryos by using in-vitro fertilization methods, they chose to conceive naturally, and test afterwards.

On a cool November morning in 2007, the couple arrived at the obstetrician’s to learn the results. The scheduled time of their appointment passed. Then another 45 minutes. At last they were called into the genetic counselor’s office.

“Congratulations!” the counselor said, smiling. Their daughter, Molly, was born April 27, 2008 – free of the mutation.

Life with Jacob, Molly and Cancer

The specter of death still hovers over Kerry, but does not block her view. In a way, cancer has even provided her with a living. She and her mother have co-founded a company, MoMorial Cards, which allows clients to create memorial cards in honor of loved ones they’ve lost. The cards are meant to be distributed at funerals or memorial ceremonies. Kerry designed her first card after Maureen (“Mo”) died.

That might seem like a morbid occupation to some. But it doesn’t faze Kerry.

She’s also got plenty of other things to think about. Today she and her husband live on the campus of Rockefeller University in New York City, where Jacob is a doctoral student. The calendar in their kitchen is peppered with Kerry’s medical tests and doctor appointments. But it’s also full of all of her other plans – weddings, a housewarming party, apple-picking adventures – and many more opportunities to laugh.

In June 2008, she served as matron of honor at her old roommate Sarah’s wedding, when she became Sarah Spagnoli.

It’s Halloween time when I visit, and the Baniks are planning their costumes.

“We’ll be going as Wizard of Oz characters,” Kerry said. Jacob would be the Wizard; she, the Wicked Witch of the West.

“And this little one is going to be a flying monkey,” Kerry said, lifting six-month-old Molly high into the air. The chubby baby giggled with delight. Her mom joined right in.

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Miraculously, Jacob and Kerry’s daughter Molly was born free of the cancer mutation.