The verdict

I was happy to leave the doctor's office and escape the five sets of eyes that were glued to me during the entire appointment. I needed time to decipher everything that had just happened, to sort my thoughts, and to make some sort of decision.
We gathered around the kitchen table (my mom, dad, uncle, aunt, and Mike) to discuss all of the news. The kitchen was becoming a familiar meeting place for those who cared. I was surprised when no one at the table volunteered to give me an opinion. Each and every person there expressed that they thought it was important that I make this decision on my own because it was a decision that only I would have to live with for the rest of my life. They all expressed that they would support whatever decisions I would make. I went to my room to be alone and think.

Surprisingly, the decision I was to make became very clear. Something in my gut was telling me what to do. I knew what I wanted and what was the right choice. I, nonetheless, did a little research to be sure my decision was sound. But in the end the gut instincts I was having were the deciding factors. I wanted to let them take the breast. I thought this was the most responsible choice I could make. I wouldn't have to worry about it any longer, would likely not have to do radiation treatment for months on end, and could have breast implant that looks nice, rather than a mutilated breast. The price I would have to pay? I would have to go around for the next little while (until treatment is over) without a left breast. To me, my life and my sanity were worth more than my short-term physical appearance. Before I made any final decision I needed to talk to Michael. My main concern was that he wouldn't find me attractive anymore, although deep down I knew our relationship was much stronger than that. But you can imagine that this would be a concern of any young woman who was considering having her breast removed. The conversation, however, was short-lived. There were no ifs ands or buts. Mike was completely supportive of the move and told me that he actually thought it was the better choice for me to make. He reassured me that I am beautiful, my beauty is not based on my breasts, he loves me, and our relationship was about more than petty things like that. He made me feel 100% confident about the choice.

Within an hour I was back in the kitchen announcing my decision. Everyone looked extremely happy ... I now knew what they would have said if they thought it appropriate to give me an opinion. The decision was made. I was happy.

I took a deep breath and phoned the doctor's office. I left a message explaining that on Friday I would have a modified radical mastectomy and would be in for further instructions in the morning.