Choosing My Path - The Double Mastectomy Decision

When peace of mind mattered more than preserving what cancer had touched

Insights for Empowerment

The doctors laid out my options. Lumpectomy or mastectomy. Keep my breasts with ongoing surveillance, or remove them entirely.

Both were valid choices. Both had medical reasoning behind them. Both had women who chose them and survived.

But only one gave me peace.

I chose a double mastectomy.

In my heart, I already knew before the doctor finished explaining the options. I wanted the cancer out. Completely. I didn’t want to wonder every day if it would come back. I didn’t want to hold my breath at every follow-up appointment. I didn’t want to live with the fear that I hadn’t done enough.

Some people might call that extreme. I call it taking control of the one thing I could control in a situation where so much felt out of my hands.

Why Both Breasts?

I had cancer in both breasts. Two different types. That made the decision clearer in some ways, harder in others.

The right breast had Invasive Papillary Carcinoma. The left had Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. If I kept them, I’d be monitoring both for recurrence. Living with that weight. That constant worry.

I also knew the statistics. I knew that having cancer in one breast increased my risk in the other. I knew that for some women, the anxiety of waiting for the other shoe to drop became its own kind of prison.

I didn’t want to live that way.

Removing both breasts wasn’t just about eliminating cancer. It was about eliminating fear. About reclaiming my sense of safety in my own body.

The Grief Nobody Warns You About

Here’s what’s hard to explain to someone who hasn’t faced this decision: choosing to remove your breasts is choosing loss.

Even when it’s the right choice. Even when it’s life-saving. Even when you have zero regrets about the decision itself.

There’s still grief.

I grieved the body I knew.

I grieved the simplicity of getting dressed without thinking about it. Of not having scars that tell a story I didn’t choose to write.

But I also knew something important: grief and peace can coexist. I could mourn what I was losing while still knowing I was making the right choice for my life.

Learning About the Goldilocks Option

When my surgeon told me about the Goldilocks mastectomy, it felt like a middle ground I didn’t know existed.

Also called SWIM (Skin-sparing Wise-pattern Internal Mammary Perforator), the procedure would remove the cancerous tissue while reshaping my remaining skin and fat into a natural breast mound. No implants. No tissue transfer from other parts of my body. Just working with what I had.

The name “Goldilocks” comes from it being a middle option. Not too aggressive, not too conservative. Not too flat, not too reconstructed. Just right for some women who want something in between.

It wasn’t widely offered, but I was a candidate. And learning about it gave me options I thought I’d lost when I chose mastectomy.

It meant I could prioritize my health without feeling like I was giving up everything.

The Waiting

Between April 5th when I got the diagnosis and June 14th when my surgery was scheduled, I lived with cancer in my body.

Every day I knew it was there. Growing. Existing. Taking up space in tissue that was supposed to be healthy.

The waiting was its own kind of torture.

I tried to stay busy. I tried to focus on preparation instead of fear. But there were moments, usually late at night, when the reality would hit me all over again. I have cancer. Right now. In my body. And I can’t do anything about it until June 14th.

Those ten weeks taught me patience I didn’t know I needed. And they taught me to lean on my faith harder than I ever had before.

What Carried Me Through

Faith. I made a vow that I would face this journey with complete faith and positivity. Not toxic positivity that pretends everything is fine. But real faith that trusts God even in the valley.

Family. My husband never once made me feel like my decision would change how he saw me. My family rallied around me. My mother’s prayers covered me daily.

Choice. Even in the chaos, I had power. The power to choose my treatment. The power to choose my attitude. The power to choose who I let into my space during this time.

That power mattered more than I can put into words.

Conclusion

Choosing a double mastectomy wasn’t easy. But it was right for me.

Your choice might be different. And that’s okay. This is the most personal decision you’ll ever make about your body. Nobody else lives in your skin. Nobody else carries your fears. Nobody else has to live with the aftermath of your choice.

So whatever you choose, own it. Trust it. Know that you made the best decision you could with the information and emotions you had at the time.

And if anyone questions your choice, remember this: they don’t get a vote. This is your body. Your cancer. Your life. Your decision.

Encouraging Nuggets

Scripture for Today: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” – Philippians 4:13

Affirmation: My choice is valid. My decision is mine. I trust myself to know what’s best for my body and my peace of mind.

If You’re Facing This Decision:

• There is no wrong choice between lumpectomy and mastectomy if both are medically appropriate

• Your comfort level with surveillance and follow-up matters

• Reconstruction is optional, not required

• You can change your mind about reconstruction later

• What other women chose doesn’t have to dictate your choice

Questions That Helped Me Decide:

• What will give me the most peace of mind?

• Can I live with ongoing surveillance and follow-ups?

• How do I feel about my breast tissue after knowing it grew cancer?

• What does my gut tell me when I imagine each option?

• Am I choosing based on fear or based on wisdom? (Both can be valid)

Remember: The right choice is the one that lets you sleep at night. The one that gives you peace. The one that feels like taking control instead of staying afraid. Trust yourself. You know your body better than anyone else.