- After her mum and aunt were diagnosed with breast cancer, Grace discovered at 21 that she too carried the BRCA1 gene mutation, increasing her risk of developing the disease
- Determined to take control of her future, she underwent a preventative double mastectomy with reconstruction, celebrating with a farewell party
- Despite a painful recovery and struggles with body confidence, Grace is raising awareness of hereditary breast cancer
Here Grace Burton,28, tells her story in her own words
Living my mum, Sue, a big hug, I felt a rush of sadness.
‘You’re going to be just fine,’ I told her.
It was 2016 and Mum, then 45, had just been diagnosed with breast cancer.
She’d decided to get tested after her sister, my aunt Sally, 43, had been diagnosed a few years before.
Sally had undergone chemotherapy and radiotherapy before getting the all-clear.
And while doctors had said there were no grounds for testing, Mum had decided to have a mammogram, for peace of mind.
Doctors had found a tiny lump that was so deep it’s unlikely she’d have found it with self-checking.
‘Thank goodness it’s been discovered early,’ my dad, Steve, 50, said.
Mum underwent a lumpectomy, along with chemo and radiotherapy.
With our family all living nearby, both sets of grandparents helped take care of me and my brother, James, then 15, when Dad took Mum to the hospital.
It was tough to see Mum so sick, but I was so proud of her. ‘You’ve got to just keep going,’ she smiled.
My boyfriend, Tom, then 18, who I’d recently started dating, was also a huge support.
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‘I’m here whenever you want to talk,’ he soothed.
By the time I was 19 and living at uni, where I was studying geography, Mum had got the all-clear, which was a huge relief.
But testing revealed that she was carrying the BRCA1 mutation, meaning she was at higher risk of having breast cancer.
Weeks later, Sally got tested and had the same results.
‘It’s genetic, so it’s likely you’ll have it too, love,’ Mum explained.
Both Mum and Sally decided to have a full mastectomy to prevent the cancer coming back.
While I was old enough to be tested, I knew I was too young for them to do anything yet, as I hadn’t stopped growing.
So I decided to put the test on hold until I’d graduated, at 21. It confirmed that I too was a carrier of BRCA1.
It wasn’t an entire shock, as I was already quite convinced that, if Mum and Sally had it, I would too.
Just like them, I could choose whether to go for the mastectomy.
‘If you go ahead, we won’t do it until you’re 25. You’ll have annual MRIs on your breasts to check for cancer in the meanwhile,’ the doctor explained.
‘We’ll support you with whatever you want to do,’ Mum and Dad said when I broke the news. And Tom was just as supportive.
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I knew straight away that I wanted to go ahead with the surgery. I got on with life, but it was always at the back of my mind.
In July 2023, when I was 25, Tom and I got married.
I wanted to tie the knot before the op, avoiding the risk of my dress not fitting or having scarring on show. It was such a beautiful day.
When we went on our honeymoon to Vietnam that December, I decided I’d take the plunge and have the surgery the following year.
‘You’re so strong,’ Tom said.
Throughout 2024 I waited in anticipation for a date, eventually getting booked in for that October.
A few weeks before the op, Tom spoke with my friends and they organised a ‘boob voyage’ party to bid them goodbye!
It was such a great afternoon. We played boob bingo and sipped on cocktails renamed into puns, such as Aperol Tits instead of Spritz, and Porn Star Mar-titties instead of Martinis!
My friend Abbey even made boob brownies – splitting Lindt chocolate balls in half to create nipples.
‘This has been such fun,’ I beamed.
A few weeks later, I went in for surgery, with two surgeons – each responsible for removing one of my breasts before reconstructing them with implants.
When I woke up afterwards, Tom and Mum were by my side.
‘It went well,’ Mum said, holding my hand.
Recovery was harder than I thought – I was in a lot of pain and even simple things like lifting my arm to sip a cup of tea were agony.
I also felt very emotional, as the reality of what I’d been through had really set in.
Slowly, the pain started to decrease and I got back some independence.
I was over the moon when I was fully recovered.
The following April, Tom and I went on holiday to Florida and I felt self-conscious on the beach in my bikini, aware of the scars on my skin.
‘No-one’s looking. I promise,’ Tom reassured.
Now, I feel so much more confident, but adjusting to the implants has been hard and they can be uncomfortable at times.
I’ll also never get to breastfeed, but I’d rather that than potentially not being around to see my kids grow up.
Keen to help, I now model at sessions where other women are considering having the operation – it’s important for them to see what a woman with reconstruction looks like.
And I’ve also trekked the Sahara desert, raising over $7000 as part of a team for the charity CoppaFeel, that promotes early detection of breast cancer through self-checks.
Although I never imagined losing my boobs – especially at such a young age – when I think what the alternative could have been, I count my lucky stars.
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