FIRST PERSON

‘I chose to lose my breasts in order to gain a life with my children.’

Mother of three Rikey Austin chose a double mastectomy in order to increase her chances of being around to see her children grow up.

‘I know the exact moment I decided to have a double mastectomy. It was shortly after I’d been told by doctors that I had a 97% chance of getting breast cancer, thanks to my family history. I was 35 and I was sitting on a bench, just near where we live in Lyme Regis, overlooking the sea with my youngest son, Leon. He must have been four or five. And I told him: “If ever I’m not around and you need to speak to me, you can come and sit here and talk to me and I will always be listening.” It seemed like a good way to prepare him for the fact that I might not be around for long. And suddenly it struck me that, here I was, accepting it. I felt this wave of anger. And I got up from that conversation and decided I was going to have a double mastectomy. I was determined to be around to see my kids grow up; to be a grandma. It just seemed the sensible thing to do.

‘I lost my dad at 50. We lost his mum and dad to cancer. My mum’s mum and my mum’s dad had died of cancer. My mum had been battling breast cancer – she’d got it twice – since she was 45. We started looking into my family history and it seemed as if the last person in my family who had not died from cancer had been a great uncle who’d been killed in a gas attack during the first world war.

Rikey's youngest son Leon and her mother, Jilly

‘You just didn’t get to be old people in my family. I had lived with this fact for so many years. It hadn’t always been a bad thing. If you know you have a very limited time it focuses you very much on how precious life is.

‘It was when mum was diagnosed with breast cancer the second time that I went for genetic testing. That’s when they told me my chances of getting it were 97%. It wasn’t a shock really. But I was told I could go in for six monthly checks, and they would catch it as soon as possible, but they gave me about five years. I thought: “I don’t want five years. I want to be a granny!”

‘After that conversation on the bench, I made an appointment to see my GP, Yvonne Hodges. And she was incredibly supportive. Yvonne made an appointment for me to go and see a psychologist, together with my husband Paddy. They were very thorough, looking into all the reasons why I might be doing this. Then I was sent to a plastic surgeon to talk about reconstructive surgery. But I didn’t want that. My mum had had reconstruction and the breast cancer came back behind the implants. If she hadn’t had those implants they would have spotted it earlier. So that ruled them out, as far as I was concerned.

‘It was a real battle, though. It took two years, but in the end, my GP phoned up the surgeon herself and sent me to see her, Julie Symes. She was lovely, and really helpful explaining the procedure to me and talking me through it.

‘I never had a moment’s doubt. And Paddy was fantastic. He always has been. There was one point where my GP said to Paddy: “How do you feel about it?” He just grinned and said: “She dyes her hair, she paints her nails, she wears uplifter bras, there’s nothing about her that hasn’t been tweaked. But I don’t care what you take away just as long as you send her home to me. If she had a 97% chance of leg cancer, I’d say take them off and I’ll wheel her around for the rest of her life.”

‘But the whole process took so long that, in the end, I said, “OK, I’ve got enough money, I’ll go and get some complete stranger to do it. I’d rather it was someone I knew and trusted, but if this is the only way I can make it happen, then so be it.” And within a week I’d been given a date.

‘Just before surgery, I did some hard thinking. I’d been a skinny blonde 36DD. I was in a very happy marriage. I used to be chair of the local trader’s group and I always knew that if we had a particularly difficult meeting, a low cut top would help me swing the vote. But I was never a girlie girl. I’ve got three sons, and I’m much more of a tomboy. But I did wonder about how I would feel – and how Paddy would feel. If I became insecure about him looking at other women, would it tip the balance? I knew that there were risks. But I asked Paddy, and he said: “I don’t know how I’m going to feel. But if you woke up and I didn’t want to be with you any more then you would still have done the right thing. Because I wouldn’t be the man you think I am, nor the man I think I am. And you would still be here for the boys.”

‘I got my friend Jo to take me into hospital on the day. I just felt it would be too emotional if Paddy brought me in. And I had slapped on the old fake tan. I’d had my eyelashes tinted (as you’re not allowed to wear makeup during surgery), I’d had my hair done. And I’d bought myself a nice, slim-fitting tracksuit. The idea was that I would wake up looking as good as I could under the circumstances.

‘Coming round I just felt so relieved. When I got up, I got dressed and looked in the mirror and thought: “This is really rather slimming!” Almost immediately I couldn’t remember how I looked before. And I found that, when I saw other people, they didn’t really notice any difference.

‘They sent me home with some chicken fillets (false breasts) to slip inside my bra, and Paddy said: “Darling, don’t bother. You can never find your car keys, and I’m not going behind the sofa looking for the second chicken fillet every time you’ve got a meeting and you can only find one.” So that was that.

‘I have never regretted doing it. My risk of breast cancer has now gone down to 3%. I’d have more chance of getting breast cancer if I was a man.

Rikey and her family - Jack, Tom, Leon and husband Paddy

But I don’t think I was brave. Bravery is living with something you can’t change.

‘The only thing I’d wished I’d had at the time was someone to talk to who didn’t have a purely medical interest, someone who had been through the experience. I was worried that I might be devastated by losing my breasts. But I’m not. That’s why I’m really happy to do my talks for Cancer Research. I’m going to the Pink Ice Ball (Cancer Research bash) at the Waldorf, and I’ve got my gown, and I feel gorgeous and sexy in it. I didn’t know if I’d feel gorgeous and sexy again. Now I tell women, who are going in for surgery, that there are loads of women who are gorgeous but don’t have boobs. Kate Moss doesn’t, nor Keira Knightly, and they are two of the most idolised women around. And the reason I’m working to raise money for Cancer Research is in the hope that one day, there might be a pill or an injection to take, so people don’t have to go through what I went through.’

Interview by Veronica Simpson

Rikey, who runs The Real Alice’s Bear Shop in Lyme Regis, has designed a bear, the Jilly Bear, manufactured by Russ Berrie, all proceeds from which go to Cancer Research UK. So far nearly £37,000 has been raised through this initiative.

www.therealalicesbearshop.co.uk

For further information or to make a donation contact: www.cancerresearchuk.org