I lost a boob but I won’t let it stop me looking for love
Yasmin Reilly, 34, Derby
Putting on my bikini in my hotel room, I ran my fingers across my chest. There it was. A lump.
Still there, I thought. On holiday in Cape Verde in April 2023, I’d noticed a small lump in my right breast a few days earlier.
Part of me hoped it’d just go away.
I was only 34, told myself it’d be nothing.
But when I got back to England and the lump hadn’t gone, I plucked up the courage to visit my GP.
‘I’ll refer you for tests,’ she said after examining me. ‘But if it is what you’re worried about, then it’s easily treatable.’
Dread filled me, especially when a letter arrived from the breast clinic for an emergency ultrasound.
I went round to see my mum Kathleen, then 53.
‘I’m going for a scan, it could be cancer,’ I said, falling into her arms. ‘You’re so young,’ she wept. And we had no family history of breast cancer.
I had the ultrasound and faced a week-long worried wait for the results.
When the hospital called and told me to bring someone to my appointment, I knew.
Three days later Mum and my sister Shazia, then 35, sat with me while the consultant confirmed it.
‘We found a mass,’ he began.
Stage one, easily treatable with an op but I’d need a mammogram and MRI scan for a more detailed picture. Bring it on, I thought. At least I now knew what
I was facing.
But after an MRI I met with my surgeon.
‘Your tumour is bigger than we thought,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to remove the majority of your breast.’
There was a chance I’d need chemo, too.
That scared me more than the operation.
The hair loss, weight gain, sickness. ‘I’d rather have my whole boob removed,’ I told him.
The surgeon agreed, and booked me in.
Back home, I looked at myself in the mirror.
As well as my PA job, I worked part-time as a model, mainly on social media and in music videos.
The idea of having just one breast made me feel uneasy at first.
Would anyone want to take pictures of a woman with one boob?
It’s just a bit of tissue. My health is more important
I was single too, would men be put off by my scar?
But as my thoughts raced, I caught myself.
Now wasn’t the time to worry about all that.
‘It’s just a bit of tissue,’ I said. ‘My health is more important.’
On 13 September, Mum drove me to hospital.
‘It’ll be over before you know it,’ she soothed, while I changed into my surgical gown.
In theatre, my entire right breast was removed, as well as lymph nodes from my right armpit.
Waking up afterwards and looking down at my bandaged chest, it felt surreal.
At 7am the next m
