Every breast is different, and they can change dramatically over a woman's lifetime. Some are perky, some saggy, they can weigh anything from 100g to 1.5kg, and nobody has an identical pair. I tell my patients that their breasts are sisters, not twins, so when I operate, I'm not promising symmetry and perfection, I'm trying to recreate what they already have.
So after making the decision to have a preventative double mastectomy due to carrying the BRCA1 mutation the time had come, at the weekend I was at the races with my friends, a few days later I was to have my breasts removed. I did not want to die of breast cancer considering my risk was about 85%. I have watched cancer destroy my family and I needed to put a stop to it.
The loss of a breast, or a scar, the diagnosis, treatment and recovery will mean different things to different women - we are individual, complex, nuanced. I wanted to tell these women's stories and share the brave, sad, painful, moving and sometimes even funny truth. This is how they look. This is how they feel.
If my mum had this surgery all those years ago I would still have her here to guide me. Instead, I have a memory box full of random items such as an old pill box and her hospital bands. To most people these might seem like junk, but to me it's all I have left of her. Now and then I go and sit on the floor and empty the box and read some of the notes in there and her old diary.
This group has been invaluable in helping me come to terms with my post-surgery body. Being part of this community I know I am not "militant" as one of the hospital nurses described me, but just a woman who was absolute in her resolve to avoid any additional surgery. For me, getting back to normal life after cancer is not about getting a new breast but getting as healthy as possible, as quickly as possible. The truth is I have lost my breast to cancer and no surgery will replace it.
Within the whirlwind that was the first two weeks of my sister being diagnosed she was informed about being tested for the gene mutations BRCA one and two. As my mum had also died reasonably young from the disease and we had reason to believe it was on both her mother and fathers side of the family it seemed very possible that the gene resided in our family.