Is That A Boob In Your Pocket?

I don't know exactly when I first became aware that my grandmother had had breast cancer nor do I ever really remember anyone talking much about it until I started asking the questions for my own medical reasons. But I'm pretty sure that the way I learned about it was by seeing her breast prosthesis. We may have been at the beach, or at home, but I'm sure I discovered it and thought it was the coolest new toy ever. As I got older, I have memories of her ordering special bras and bathing suits, and when she was in the hospital, worrying about where her boob was. I learned that it wasn't a toy, that it was a royal pain in the butt and these memories colored my decisions when I was deciding what type of surgery to have. It was my goal not ever have to worry about where my boob had gotten itself to, and so I chose to have a lumpectomy.

I tell you all of this so you will understand some of the anxiety I was feeling as I headed to my appointment last night to get fitted by a mastectomy fitter for a bra that would work with my now different sized breasts. On the phone she talked about a prosthesis, and I was dreading the possibility. After trying on what felt like every bra in Loudoun County last night, we found a couple that we were able to make work without an insert. Hallelujah! Of course, you get what you pay for and I now own undergarments that cost more than most of my clothes.

Sometimes I think it would have been easier if I'd gone the mastectomy route to start with. I wouldn't look at my breasts every day and wonder when they'd betray me again. I hope that with some time, I'll be able to find peace with their presence, but if not, I know that I can make the decision to remove them later.