Meet Gabbie who blogs about her experiences of a double mastectomy during the pandemic

The lovely Gabbie (@thebooblesswonder)

Welcome to Friday, everyone! We have another wonderful guest blogger for you today. We’re delighted to introduce you to the lovely Gabbie. Gabbie is a previvor who has been blogging about her experience of having a double mastectomy during a pandemic and living flat.

Gabbie sadly lost her mum to breast cancer; Gabbie was 19 and her mum was only 45. Years later, Gabbie underwent genetic testing and discovered she has a BRCA2 mutation. Gabbie has written so beautifully and movingly about her experiences in her blog. We wholeheartedly encourage you to check it out. You can also find Gabbie on Instagram at @thebooblesswonder.

Gabbie has written for us today about her decision not to have reconstruction surgery. Take it away, Gabbie:

“As soon as I heard I had a BRCA2 mutation, I knew I wanted a preventative double mastectomy. I had just turned 34 and was about to give birth to my second child. I couldn’t bear the thought of dying of breast cancer, like my mum had, and leaving behind my children. For me, the decision was easy: remove the breasts, reduce the risk.

But did I want breast reconstruction? That was trickier.

I have always felt fairly comfortable in my body. Fairly. Like most of us millennials who grew up in the nineties era of photoshopped models, I can’t help but carry around a mental list of my alleged physical flaws. Too short. Too white. Too hairy! Still, generally, I liked the way I look. Even after two kids and the permanent changes they had wrought on my body. Stretchmarks. Split abs. C-section scar. Wrinkly belly. After nearly two years of breastfeeding, my breasts in particular were unrecognisable. Deflated. But could I live without any breasts at all?

Right from the start, my gut instinct was that I wanted to be flat. But I also knew this decision was too important to make by instinct alone: I needed to consider every available option, and make an educated choice. I carried out a lot of research on different types of reconstruction. A lot. I read books, scientific articles, blogs of personal experiences. I joined multiple Facebook groups. I introduced myself, asked questions. Many, many generous women sent me pictures of their different surgical results, so that I could see what they looked like and consider whether I would want that for myself. For a while, my phone gallery was chock-a-block with boobs!

There seemed to be so many possibilities for reconstruction. Using my own tissue, using implants, using a combination of both. Saving my nipples or removing them. And so many potential complications! Rippling, rotation, necrosis. I was overwhelmed with information, fighting my way through it, trying to weigh everything up. But amid it all, I kept coming back to the idea of being flat. Turning it over in my mind, like a smooth stone. It was a calming idea, I found. As a surgery, it carried the least risk. Had the shortest recovery time. And I felt like it was the choice that would be truest to me.

When I met with the surgeon, I told her I was seriously leaning towards not reconstructing. Nevertheless, I asked her what she would suggest for me if she were to reconstruct. Not every reconstruction surgery is suitable for every woman, and I felt it would make my decision clearer if I knew which options were actually on the table.

The surgeon assessed me carefully, looking first at my breasts and then also at my body, for sites where she could potentially harvest tissue. As it turned out, my options for reconstruction were limited because of my body type – I am quite petite, with low body fat. I didn’t have enough tissue for DIEP-flap reconstruction, where part of your tummy is used to create new breasts. I could have an LD-flap reconstruction, where your shoulder tissue and muscle is used, but my surgeon said that without adding implants to boost the results, I would find them disappointing. My best option was probably to have a direct-to-implant reconstruction.

This pretty much decided me. I was certain I didn’t want implants. While I thought they looked incredible in other women’s reconstructions, I wasn’t open to the additional risks they posed for complications, however small those risks were. I am naturally very risk-averse. A born worrier. I knew that if I put implants into my body, I would be fretting about them for the rest of my life. And I just didn’t want to spend any more time fretting about my boobs. This mastectomy was supposed to be deducting worry from my life, not adding to it! 

Ultimately, I decided to go with my gut and not reconstruct. It felt right. That’s not to say I wasn’t frightened about it – there was fear there, for sure. Not just about the surgery itself, but about afterwards. What I would look like. How people would react. How I would feel about myself. Would I still like the way I looked, after my breasts were gone? Would I still feel sexy? Would I get mistaken for a twelve-year-old boy?!

Then, with less than a month to go until my surgery, it was cancelled due to Covid-19. This was a major blow. I had really geared myself up psychologically, and to have the surgery whipped away when it had been in arm’s reach was so distressing. I was terrified it would be put on hold indefinitely, that I might develop breast cancer before preventative surgery started up again.

As it turned out, I was lucky. I live in an area that wasn’t hit hard by the pandemic, and my surgeon called me in to have my surgery the moment she could, in the first week of June. I’ll be honest: even on the journey into hospital, I was still worrying a little bit about whether I should have asked for a reconstruction. But the pandemic had crystallised things for me: the crucial thing was that the boobs, and the risk they posed to me, were gone.

I had to go alone to the hospital, due to strict Covid rules. I was fizzing with nerves, but kept myself calm by bantering with my nurse as I waited to be called to the operating theatre.

When I woke up, I was surprised by the lack of pain. I was groggy, but comfortable. It wasn’t long before I was able to get out of bed and get dressed to go home. As I removed my hospital gown, I decided to walk into the bathroom and look in the mirror. The moment I saw myself, I was so relieved. I knew I’d made the right decision for me. Being flat looked fine. I didn’t look freakish or boyish, or any of the things I had worried about. I just looked like myself.

I’ve been living flat for three months now. I’m having fun working out what clothes I can still wear (spoiler: most of them!) and sharing my journey on my Instagram account @thebooblesswonder to help other flatties and prospective flatties. I love being part of this club of brave, beautiful and individual women, all rocking their foobs or uniboob or no boobs at all.”

Thank you so much for your wonderful blog, Gabbie, and for continuing to share your story and support other women within this community.

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