For as long as I can remember, my motto had been simple yet powerful: Heads Up, Tits Out, and March On! It was my personal battle cry, a mantra I instilled in my daughter and clients alike. Life was hard enough without letting setbacks control us. You keep your chin up, square your shoulders, and walk forward, never wasting energy on what you can't change.

But I never imagined that one day, I’d be fighting to save one of those very "tits" I’d so proudly encouraged others to march forward with. With a lack of information, awareness and help available for what I’ve been through, I decided to tell my story in the hope that it might also help others.

In April 2024, I decided to have a much-needed breast reduction. The pain in my shoulders and neck from the size and weight of my breasts was excruciating and, at times, made it difficult for me to work. I’d had a consultation in 2023 after researching who to go to, and after suffering longer than I needed to, I decided to go ahead with the procedure.

I felt at ease and happy with my consultant, who explained the procedure and the scarring that would be left (this was never an issue for me; scarring is something I had dealt with successfully). I was also told of the possibility of the nipple being rejected, but I was never informed of the potential risk of infected breast tissue or seromas. (I was later told, when I questioned this, that the risk was so small, that it is often not discussed).

The operation went ahead. I was taken to the ward and kept overnight. I noticed that I didn’t have drains placed in my breasts after the procedure, but the consultant reassured me that he doesn’t use drains, and that everything would be fine. I also asked the nurse for a saline drip, but she promptly told me it wasn’t needed, and drinking water would suffice. During the night, I passed out. In fact, from that first night and all through the second, I passed out around 12–15 times. I was confined to bed, unable to even go to the bathroom, and had to call for help to use the toilet or wash. My head was pounding, I felt nauseous, and my skin had turned a yellow hue. I was kept in for another night for observation and, slowly, felt able to stand with assistance without fainting. My sodium and iron levels were low , when I finally went home, I honestly thought those first 48 hours would be my last. I felt so unwell—headaches, dizziness, nausea, with my skin still tinged yellow, indicating liver stress.

I was not only on strong antibiotics, but also still processing the remnants of general anaesthesia, intravenous antibiotics, anticoagulants, and anti-inflammatories. All of these were likely overloading my liver with toxins, leaving me feeling incredibly unwell. Just walking a short distance or climbing the stairs was a huge effort.

I spent the next couple of days hydrating and eating well. I started a course of ProBio+, Liver Rescue, and Repair+ to aid my recovery and used the Hyperbaric Chamber, all of which made me feel better. For the following two weeks, I focused on getting hydrated and stronger, and slowly, I felt my energy returning. My breasts, although slightly sore from the wounds, felt great—until I noticed blood and fluid seeping through my top. I had a meeting scheduled with my consultant and nurse that evening, so I hoped they’d be able to address the issue. The nurse cleaned the wound, and they both assured me it was just a little seepage and nothing to worry about. I was to return in a couple of days for a follow-up.

However, over the following days, my energy plummeted again. When I returned to the consultant and nurse, my breast had developed a hole at the joining of the scar—large enough to fit a small finger in—and it was oozing thick yellow fluid like custard and blood. The breast was painful and hot to the touch. The wound was cleaned, and a sample of the fluid was taken for testing. I was sent home with gauze to change the dressing. The pain increased over the next few days and became an unbearable hot, searing, pressure-filled pain. I went to the bathroom, sensing something had happened, and as I lifted my top, I saw blood pouring from my compression bra. My entire bra was soaked. When I removed it, another hole appeared, streaming blood and fluid all over my body onto the floor. I jumped into a cool shower but couldn’t stop the bleeding. The bathroom looked like a scene from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

My poor husband was so shocked and horrified; he had to grab a towel to wrap around me and try to stop the bleeding. Along with the blood, there was a clotted jelly-like substance. I texted the 24-hour helpline and went to bed, wrapped in the towel, praying the bleeding would stop which it did after around 40 minutes. We returned to the hospital the next day. The consultant explained that a seroma had burst and that I had also picked up an infection, either from the hospital or the procedure—it was impossible to say. (A seroma is a blister that fills with fluid in a dead space—so in the area where I had dead space from the reduction, this infection and seroma had taken hold.) I was prescribed another round of antibiotics to hopefully stop the infection and begin the healing process. The infection proved to be resistant to the antibiotics. Bacteria that were once vulnerable to the medication had changed and adapted so that they become able to withstand, or resist, the medication and survive. 

Another week passed, filled with different types of pain, from burning heat to pressure to stabbing soreness. By this time, I had three holes in one breast and one in the other, all oozing either seroma fluid, blood, or thick yellow necrotic breast tissue. The oozing was continuous, requiring me to change the dressing 3–4 times a day. My consultant saw me the following week and said he wanted me to go back into the hospital to have the wounds washed out and drains placed in, hoping to remove any remaining infection.

I went back into the hospital for the second procedure. When I saw the anaesthetist, I begged him not to put me on what I had been given during the previous operation. I’ve never handled anaesthesia well, and I was convinced it had contributed to how unwell I’d felt before. He explained that, for some reason, I hadn’t been given the two bags of saline he had instructed the nurses to administer, which had left me severely dehydrated and caused my previous symptoms.

The nurse asked me to change into my gown for surgery, but I explained that I needed to keep my compression bra on until just before the procedure, as it was full of gunk and would contaminate the gown. I was taken to the room and ensured I received the two bags of saline. My goodness, what a difference that made—it was night and day. I felt so much better. My husband was sitting next to me as I rested when the anaesthetist popped his head in. He said, “I was so worried when I saw your chest and what it was oozing. I was so concerned, in fact, that I called the ICU to be on standby—it looked like sepsis, it was the worst I have seen in over twenty years.” I explained that I felt much better with the saline and thanked him. Later, my consultant came by, and I relayed the anaesthetist’s concerns. He reassured me that it wasn’t sepsis, and the operation had gone well. I was kept in for an extra night just to be safe.

As the days passed, the oozing continued, and the types of pain shifted daily. I was taking every day and each hour at a time, getting through my working day and dealing with the pain. I returned to see my consultant, who brought in a colleague, a Professor, for another opinion. His manner was very matter-of-fact, and he simply shrugged, saying, “Well, it’s just a case of bad luck, I’m afraid. This happens in less than 1% of patients, and it could last for up to 12 weeks.” At this point, friends and family—understandably concerned and shocked at what I was going through—suggested I seek legal advice. Personally, although this operation had cost me a fortune, I just wanted a solution, not additional stress. Plus, I know that anything in life carries risks, and an infection is always a possibility, no matter how small the chance. I was one of the unlucky ones. But I just wanted to find a way to fix it. To be fair, my consultant and nurse were both mortified and clearly concerned. He had never experienced anything like this in his career, and although his repeated phrase, “I’m not concerned,” did little to ease my mind, I knew he was genuinely worried and didn’t want to exacerbate the situation. He stated that I wasn't far from his thoughts and the situation was distressing for him also.

And so the oozing and pain continued over the following weeks, eventually turning into months. I developed pockets of severe inflammation, resulting in hot, burning lumps that the doctors couldn’t do anything about. To relieve this, I started doing deep oscillation therapy on myself—thankfully, it provided instant relief from the pain and redness. Recognising that thick, oozing fluids are linked to "dampness" in the body, I also turned to acupuncture and moxibustion, which reduced both the level of oozing and the pain. Ozone therapy and probiotic implants also helped boost my energy levels, as did bio-resonance therapy. Using energy therapy on myself was difficult, but I tried to employ all the tools at my disposal. The strong antibiotics I had been taking were affecting my skin’s texture, making it bumpy and causing breakouts, they also made me feel so sick and weak. The supplement Eradic8 became my saviour for this—starting a course would magically clear up my skin.

The right breast healed beautifully but still had some hard lumps that caused discomfort. In contrast, the left breast was a mess, riddled with holes that sometimes healed with a small membrane, then built up pressure, forming bubbles of flesh that were tear-jerkingly painful. Occasionally, they would burst on their own; other times, I needed them aspirated.

Desperate for relief, I sought a second opinion from another consultant. I couldn't endure the pain and discomfort any longer, especially as I was slowly losing breast tissue. The consultant examined my breast and inserted a specimen speculum into the largest hole without resistance. I felt no pain initially, but as it disappeared deeper, I was captivated by the sensation. Suddenly, I felt a sharp sting. The consultant withdrew the speculum, bringing out a mix of gunk and blood, cleaned the wound, and instructed me to get dressed. Once dressed, he looked me in the eye and said, “Within a few months, you will lose your left breast. You need a procedure to remove the infection and surrounding healthy tissue. This is necessary to stop any further infection. You have a 7 cm by 7 cm cavity in your breast where the infection is cultivating.”

My instant reply was “Losing my breast is not an option. That is not going to happen”. I thanked him for his honesty and time and waited to see my original consultant again.

It was evident that action was necessary. I was booked for an ultrasound to assess the extent of the cavity. The ultrasound revealed a large cavity with three channels leading to the holes in my breast. These holes would ooze and burst, depending on which channel was being affected by necrotic breast tissue or seroma fluid. I had my right breast aspirated to relieve the lumps and pain, and immediate relief followed. However, the fluid in the left breast was too thick and gunky to be drawn out.

I was advised to cancel my holiday; flying could risk further infection.

As the days passed, I continued to ooze from the left breast's holes, with seromas bursting. To make matters worse, a blood vessel burst from the last aspiration, causing a hematoma. All the time having to work through the pain and discomfort at one point I had to rearrange clients mid working day, as a seroma had expanded so fast that even clothing was adding to the pain, I called the consultant and took myself to the hospital to again be aspirated, 15 mls of fluid was withdrawn from that particular seroma. 

My consultant suggested we might need to consider another operation to remove tissue, clean out the area thoroughly, and possibly remove additional breast tissue. This was the last thing I wanted, but I had reached my limit. He agreed to discuss the case with the hospital board and consult his colleagues, and I was to return the following week.

I dedicated myself to hyperbaric oxygen therapy every day, used targeted red light therapy, acupuncture, and ozone treatment, and took supplements like Defend and Repair+. I also focused on manifesting my healing.

A strange experience also occurred: I began to have waves of heartburn, which indicated an imbalance in my stomach meridian. Coincidentally, the stomach meridian ran through the area where the cavity in my breast and the main hole were located. To address this, I supported the meridian, and the heartburn subsided immediately.

While running a bath, I removed my compression bra to clean the oozing wounds. As I wiped away the gunk, I noticed a tendril flopping out of one of the holes. My heart raced. I tried to gently pull it out, but as I did, a larger mass unfolded. It was grey, slimy, and sinewy. Alarmed, I called my husband for help, worried that pulling it out might split the holes and leave me with a gaping wound. I asked him to cut it, though he objected, imagining blood spurting everywhere. He likened it to cutting an umbilical cord. As soon as it was severed, the mass retreated back into the hole like something from a horror movie. It was horrific.

At my next appointment with the consultant, I explained the pressure and mass behind the hole and pleaded fro him to remove it. He prepared the area, and as he was pulling, I noticed the nurses’ eyes widening in shock. The mass was finally removed; it resembled an oyster (apologies to oyster lovers) or a large slug - a very large mutant slug or a miniature Jabba The Hut. While it was vile, the relief was immense. After a final surge of gunk and blood, I experienced a feeling of pure bliss. I asked the consultant if he had ever seen anything like it before, and he admitted he hadn’t. He explained that it was a mass typically removed in surgery, but somehow, my body had expelled it. He pencilled me in for the operation and explained that if it went ahead, I would be left with an open wound and drains to allow it to heal from the base up. I wouldn't be able to work during the recovery to minimise the risk of infection. I asked if we could wait and see if the mass expulsion would signal the beginning of the end of this awful ordeal.

I returned to hyperbaric therapy, increased my intake of Defend and Repair+, and came back a week later. The oozing had nearly stopped, and the holes were almost healed. Even the consultant was amazed at how well the hole that had expelled the mass had healed in just a week. He explained that the cultivated bacteria were anaerobic, meaning they survived in environments without oxygen. In my mind, this explained how my body had pushed the mass out. The hyperbaric chamber increases oxygen delivery by up to 800% and accelerates healing.

I visited the consultant and nurse this week and have had no pain, no oozing - just a small little pocket of gunk on the scar which was cleared. The holes are clearing nicely. We have agreed to keep in touch to keep each other in the loop. I will continue to treat myself as I truly believe that all the modalities I have used have saved my breast. This is not arrogance; it is my belief that various therapies and supplements have played a crucial role in my healing journey. I have lost a third of my left breast, and it has been an awful experience. Yet, I have tried to maintain a positive outlook, even finding solace in humour by joking that my husband can't play with the “boobies” because, with the three holes in my left breast, he could play “London’s Burning” on it like a recorder!

The most saddening and frustrating aspect of this journey has been the lack of understanding regarding my condition. Looking back, I would have liked to have been informed of this risk, even though it is less than 1%. I searched online and on social media but found no references or advice regarding what I was going through. Even my consultant and nurse had limited answers. While they were lovely, this was a first for them, and I could see their concern. This was not a deliberate mistake; it was an infection that took hold and damaged breast tissue.

I was told that even abstract research would not be found in cases under 1%, yet that still represents one person in every hundred! This is why I wanted to share my story. If anyone out there is searching for advice, I hope they can read this and realise there is an end to it all. There are alternative healing methods to avoid repeated surgeries or breast removal. It’s devastating to know that I have access to these therapies due to my profession, while many women suffering from similar issues remain unaware of the healing potential of these complementary therapies. I truly believe that targeted hyperbaric oxygen therapy should be standard post-surgery care.

Your mindset is also essential for healing. Each day, I would recite out loud that my blood flowed through my tissues, healing at the source and ridding my body of any ill effects. I visualised oxygen purifying my breast and remained mindful not to focus on how bad my breast was, but rather to express gratitude for its resilience.

This experience has validated my belief in complementary wellness. My family has been incredibly supportive throughout this ordeal, especially my husband, who is generally queasy and had to help me through many grim situations.

Would I have chosen to undergo the operation if I had known what might happen? Yes. My consultant did an amazing job on my breasts; I love them—even with the left one now smaller than I had anticipated. I still have it! I have no pain in my neck, back, or shoulders, and I look and feel better in my clothes. This has been a learning curve for all of us, and as I told my consultant, it has provided him with a valuable case history, albeit one we could have all done without. 

My consultant has offered to realign the breast in the future with fat transferal or an implant but I feel my body has been through enough, I have a husband that loves all of me and my little boobie has been such a trooper through all of this I actually don't want it to change - it is a reminder of how amazing my body is!

Please remember that life has no guarantees, especially regarding surgery. Infections are a calculated risk, and they can occur anywhere, at any time, to anyone.

Above all, don’t forget: HUTOMO!

Below is a video of what I experienced. PLEASE DO NOT WATCH if you are easily offended or squeamish. It is NOT for the faint hearted.