My story began in 1974, when I was just 6 years old. I was the youngest of 6 children with my eldest sibling being nearly 17 years older than me. I remember being alone with mum, she was 42, a very rare occurrence, and she told me that she would only have one boobie soon. I told her that I would not love her if she only had one boobie and burst into tears and ran off.  There had been a lot of whispering and things I was not a part of and I suppose the news was a shock to me. I loved to cuddle with my mum and to loose part of the bit I used to cuddle seemed awful to me. Don’t worry, I had plenty of time in my adolescence and adulthood to ensure that I made it known to my mum that I loved her no boobie and all. In the end I loved her with no hair, when she had no energy, when she was sick. I got to know her terrible mastectomy scar and honestly, it was just a part of my mum, the mum that I loved. Towards the end of her life we discussed “the” moment and I know I was forgiven. Thank goodness my mum did not tell me that she had one year to live at that stage. My 6 year old self would never have coped.

She managed to live until she was 69, defying what the doctors predicted, but it was breast cancer in the end that took her life. Being the third time she had cancer, she refused all but palliative treatment and died with no pain and much dignity rather quickly. We had time to ask all of those family questions that needed to be asked and she replied with truthful answers.

In comes the story of the Sword of Damocles, a huge sword that hung above a throne, held at the pommel only by a single hair of a horse's tail. It conveyed a sense of the constant fear in which man lives. When I was six, the constant fear began.

My mother had a sister (B) that was only 3 or 4 years older than my own oldest sister. My parents immigrated to Australia in 1958, so most of my extended family lives there, making family history research difficult. I believe she got breast cancer at 38 and that she also had cervical and ovarian cancer. She legally self euthanised after it metastasised into her bones at age 42 (I think), leaving behind 3 young daughters.

The Sword of Damacles began to sway above me at this stage.

I began my high risk screening, which involved mammograms and ultrasounds yearly at age 23. I was breastfeeding my son that first time. Fibroid adenoma. How many times over the next 20 years was I to hear those words? How many biopsies? How many  times would I sit the kids down and ask then that if I died who did they want to live with? How many times did I fear that the knot was slipping that held up the sword?

1999 I thought the knot slipped. I was diagnosed with a malignant melanoma. Stage 1, surgical margins clear. No further treatment needed, apart from vigilance and never being able to enjoy the sun again. Not even with sunscreen.

In 2005 I had a long talk with the professor at my screening program about prophylactic mastectomy. I decided to continue to be vigilant.

December 2009 my second eldest sister (T) was diagnosed with Invasive Ductal (something starting with S, my notes are ruined with tears). This cancer was missed with mammogram and detectable only with physical examination. In February 2010 my third eldest sister (D) was diagnosed with Invasive Lobular Carcinoma. This cancer was missed by mammography and showed up on physical examination. I think she had 5 nodes full of cancer and they removed 29 in the end (after a second operation).

I immediately changed my mind when I saw D in the hospital for the first time. (T lived in Melbourne at the time). I had been extremely vigilant long enough and I was going to get a Prophylactic Bilateral Mastectomy. I was going to cheat the Sword of Damocles!

I had to see 2 Breast Surgeons and 4 Plastic Surgeons before I found my magic mix. The Breast Surgeons were fine, but as I am overweight, 3Plastic Surgeons viewed me as a risk and refused to operate on me. One might have, but his fees were so outrageous I could not consider using him.  My wait on the public list was 3 years. Unacceptable in my eyes, considering I had MRI results advising biopsy go missing for 3 months....yet another fibroid adenoma thank goodness, but had it been cancer I would have lost my life. In the end my sister D’s Breast Surgeon organised a Plastic Surgeon, both agreeing to operate on me at no gap due to my social and personal circumstances. Angels both of them.

It took me over a year, more like 18 months to organise the surgery. My family were quite hostile about my decision. And this is where Pink Hope came in. Bless you all at Pink Hope, for the wonderful, positive, thought provoking SUPPORT. I could not have gone through the process without you all. Seriously. I have also tried to be active on the forums, as I know how much support I gained from them. I also attended an Ambassadors Weekend. Oh what an eye opener and absolutely positive experience for me, shame I was only a few weeks post mastectomy and struggling with painkillers to be human! Thanks to the weekend I feel so NORMAL and I’ve decided I am going to get nipples (I was anti nipples before I went away).

I face my transfer surgery in less than 2 weeks now with happiness and excitement. I’m going to see the surgeon today and top of my list of questions is ....NIPPLES! I just hope my current recovery from tonsillitis does not hinder the surgery date!

So....thank you Krystal. Thank you for developing Pink Hope, for without which I would be struggling with no support. My Sword of Damocles has GONE! I feel so uplifted and happy.

((Gentlehugs))

Lissy