Picking Out Bras and Prostheses, Again.

I never considered myself a naïve person, but when I was diagnosed with breast cancer three years ago, I had no idea it would impact me for the rest of my life. I thought I’d have surgery, go through treatment and be done. Then, when I made the decision to have both breasts removed, I didn’t know choosing not to do reconstruction would be such a challenge. There was so much I needed to learn.

Today was my annual visit to the prosthetic shop. Every year, for the past three years, I’ve made this trek. Forty-five minutes of driving to a neighboring town takes me to a tiny specialty shop. The clientele are breast cancer patients and survivors. Inside the shop are wigs, head coverings, bras and prostheses. The ladies who run the shop have been specially trained in bra fitting, so I feel confident going there. Today’s visit will be old hat, but I remember when it was all very new.

About a month after I’d had my breasts removed, the breast surgeon called me into her office for a checkup. At that visit, she examined my scars and before I left, she handed me two prescriptions. One was for mastectomy bras and the other was for prostheses. She explained that I’d want to get the items as soon as possible. I must have looked like a deer in headlights because she sat down and explained insurance normally covers four mastectomy bras a year and one set of prostheses every other year. I left her office feeling very strange. I had no idea prescriptions were required for bras and fake boobs.

When I visited the local specialty shop, I was embarrassed. I was so new to being breastless. Walking into the shop with a flat chest, I felt humiliated. As I approached the counter and handed my prescriptions to the salesperson, she smiled and welcomed me. She took me by the arm and led me to a fitting room where she measured me with a retractable measuring tape. She apologized as she held the tape against my scars. She could see how fresh they were and noticed my face during the fitting.

“Honey,” she said, “You’re too young to have had to go through this trauma.” I smiled and shook my head in agreement. I wanted to scream out, “You have no idea what I’ve been through!” But I didn’t.

I remember her showing me dozens of mastectomy bras. She explained the differences in them and showed me how to insert a pair of trial prostheses into the little openings on the inside of the bras. She was very knowledgeable and took her time. I was thankful for her patience as I tried on a variety of styles until I found one that worked for me.
When it came time to pick out my own prostheses, I began to weep. The fitter closed the door to the dressing room and told me to take my time. When she came back into the room, I was wiping tears from my cheeks. I apologized for being so emotional and she quickly put me at ease. She said I shouldn’t worry. She’d had many women react the same way. She explained she had expected me to cry since it had only been a month since surgery and if I hadn’t cried, she would have been worried. I was grateful for her kindness.

The first prosthetic I held in my hands was a silicone rubber flesh-colored mound. I was surprised at its weight. The smallest size, an A cup, was hefty. When I held the C cup, I could barely hold it in one hand. It was extremely heavy and I was afraid I would drop it. I was asked what size bra I’d worn before surgery. When I told the fitter I’d been a B cup, she smiled and explained I could now how my choice of cup sizes. She told me I could go as small or as large as I wanted to go. I tried each cup size on with a mastectomy bra and found the A cup to be sufficient. I couldn’t stand the weight of heavier prostheses against my scar. I paid for my purchases and left the store feeling shocked and overwhelmed.

That was three years ago. Today when I went into the store, I greeted the salesperson with a cheery smile. I explained I was there to get new bras. Instead of waiting for her to measure and fit me, I walked straight over to the racks of bras and started looking through them. I knew exactly what type bra I wanted and I knew what size I needed. Gathering the selections, I’d made, I carried them up to the counter. I pulled out my insurance card and asked when I qualified for a new pair of boobs. The fitter checked my chart and said I had another six months to go. I wanted to be sure I was within the correct time frame for insurance coverage so I didn’t purchase prostheses today although I did check out some new versions. This time, when I held the C cups in my hands, I laughed. I told the salesperson I was ready to go big. As my purchases were slipped into a bag, I said my goodbyes and reminded the staff I’d be back in six months for my Dolly Parton-sized boobs.

I’ve come a long way in three years. What was once a humiliating and embarrassing experience has now become commonplace. I know I’ll need to buy bras and prostheses for the rest of my life. I’m sure the next time I visit the store, I’ll feel even more comfortable than ever. I may even invite the fitter to join me for lunch! I’m sure we’re going to be really good friends a year or two down the road.

Making the best of a bad situation is always a good idea. The fear of the unknown can be crippling, and I know that’s why I had such an emotional reaction the first time. I’m so happy I’ve passed that initial phase of my journey, but I’d like to offer a word of encouragement to those about to make their first mastectomy bra or prosthetic purchase. The fitters want to help you. They are trained to help you make bra selections that will be best suited for your needs. Choosing a replacement breast can be difficult but replacing the weight of your missing breast will help your body adjust. Without replacing the breast, your body will try to compensate and this can often cause rounding of the shoulders and result in back pain.

Every insurance company is different, so it’s best to check your policy for coverage limitations. I always wait to visit the prosthetic shop until after I’ve met my yearly deductible, that way, I only have to pay my 20 percent. Be sure you have a written prescription for your bras and your prosthetic. Many insurance companies require this. If your doctor doesn’t volunteer a prescription, ask for one.

Living life without breasts doesn’t have to be difficult. I wear my prostheses when I want to and I don’t when I don’t. Most of the time, when I’m out in public, I wear a mastectomy bra and prostheses, but when I’m home, I find it more comfortable to go without them.

Think of all the choices you’ll have when you visit a shop for bras! There are just as many choices as there are in a normal lingerie store. If you want a sports bra, they’ve got them! If you prefer an underwire, no problem. Sexy, t-shirt, racerback bras…all available. The only difference between mastectomy bras and regular bras is that mastectomy bras have an inner lining type pocket that holds the prosthetic. Slipping the breast form inside the bra is quick and easy.

Prostheses come in different shapes, sizes, and weights. They’re available in silicone, polyester fiberfill and even microbeads. You have the power to choose what works best for you, so have fun doing it. Your first experience might be an emotional one, but subsequent experiences will get easier with time.

National No Bra Day is coming soon

October has been designated as breast cancer awareness month. Many breast cancer survivors have come to know the month as the dreaded “Pinktober.” While pinking things up is meant to raise breast cancer awareness, it often sparks mixed feelings among those who’ve felt the effects of breast cancer. In conjunction with breast cancer awareness month, a campaign called “National No Bra Day,” began in 2011. According to a news article, published by ABC7, “People are encouraged to ditch their lingerie to raise awareness about the disease, raise money for research, and to support survivors.” The social media campaign purports freeing the breasts as a fun way to bring awareness to the need for annual mammograms and testing to prevent breast cancer. But does it really? As a breast cancer survivor, I’d like to give you my perspective.

When I was a young girl, I couldn’t wait to get my first bra. At the first sign of breast buds, my mother purchased a training bra for me. That lacy little slip of fabric made me feel feminine. As I developed, I graduated from a training bra into a real bra with cups. My breasts were prized possessions. They were not only ornamental, but functional. At 19, when I had my first child, my breasts provided nourishment. At the age of 40, I had my first mammogram, a necessary preventative test. At 56, I was diagnosed with breast cancer and had both breasts removed. Since I opted for no reconstruction, I was forced to wear a bra containing two silicone prostheses. These man-made breast forms gave me the semblance of womanhood. Without them, my chest looked pre-pubescently flat. Some days I choose to wear my prostheses and some days I don’t. When I need to “look normal” in public, I wear a bra and prostheses. When I am home or around loved ones, I go without these items. Prostheses are heavy and uncomfortable but in order to “fit in” I need to wear them. And that’s why National No Bra day bothers me.

I don’t understand how taking off your bra for a day does anything to raise awareness for breast cancer. The only thing I think it really does is give men something to ogle over and give women something to giggle about. For those of us who’ve experienced major surgery to remove our breasts, bras have become a necessary evil. It’s difficult to wear prostheses without a bra and socially unacceptable to be a flat chested woman. Where does that leave us? I don’t want to seem overly sensitive to a fun filled social media holiday, but I just don’t get it. What’s the point in going bra-less? And how are funds raised when you remove your lingerie?

So please excuse me if I don’t participate in this year’s festivities. I find it offensive that men and women flippantly consider such a silly way of raising awareness for breast cancer. If people really wanted to gain understanding and awareness, I propose we declare a National Bare Chest Day where men and women who’ve been through breast cancer could share their battle wounds by making their scars visible for all to see. Perhaps then more people would take breast cancer seriously and the National No Bra Day would become a thing of the past.  

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

The Power to Choose

Size c prosthesis and bra

Having both breasts removed was extremely difficult for me, but amid all the negatives accompanying breast cancer and surgery, there have also been some positives. I’d like to share one of those positives with you today. I’m hoping I won’t offend anyone. I’m sharing this with my tongue in my cheek because after all, we do need to look for some humor along our journey, don’t we? I don’t know about you, but I get tired of all the seriousness of breast cancer in my life. I’ve started looking for some more light hearted moments and today, I found one!

It was time for my check up with the oncologist. I’d made my appointment for the earliest part of the day because that’s when I’m most energetic. I wandered into my walk in closet and selected the clothing I’d wear to the appointment. I tried to find something lightweight and cool. After making my selections, I lay my clothing across the bed while I went into the bathroom to shower. I dried off and prepared to dress. Since having my surgery, I always start with the lower half of my body because the top half usually takes a little more time to get ready. Wiggling into my pants, I began to think about the day. I wondered what the Doc would have to say and what tests he might run. Finally, the bottom half of me was ready and I shifted my focus to the top half. I’d already picked out a blouse but hadn’t chosen a bra or prostheses yet. Smiling to myself, I suddenly realized I had the power to choose and not just the power to choose a bra, but the power to choose the size of my boobs!

The insurance company allows me to have a new set of prostheses every two years. When I chose my first pair of prostheses, I chose the smallest pair available. I’d always been small chested so why would I even think about choosing a bigger size, it would be unnatural…well, sort of. The fitter at the boutique advised me to remember my scars were fresh and my wounds were tender. She thought my choice of a smaller, lighter weight boobs was best. I was proud of my little size A fake boobs and took them home with care instructions. The majority of the time, I didn’t even wear them unless I was going out in public. It was more comfortable to remain flat chested at home. Two years passed quickly and I got excited when I found it was time for an upgrade. I returned to the boutique and asked the fitter to help me find a more substantial set of boobs. She asked my preference, B, C, D. I thought for a few minutes and picked a happy medium. I’d always wanted to be a C and now was my chance. After trying them on for size, I was overjoyed and left with my new bosoms.

In my chest of drawers were two sets of pink zippered cases. Inside each of these little round cases were my prostheses. In the top drawer were my little size A boobs. In the drawer just below it were my size Cs. Decisions, decisions. Did I want to wear the smaller, more comfortable boobs or did I want to really stand out and wear the heavier size Cs? I had the power to choose! I opened the cases for both sets of prostheses and lay them on my bed. I pulled out a size A bra and a size C bra. I stood staring at the boobs for a few minutes and decided today was a size C day! As I slid my C boobs into the bra a big ol’ Cheshire grin crossed my face. Cancer had taken so much away from me but now I got to choose. It was a really little choice, but it was mine nonetheless.

It’s so hard to deal with a post cancer body image. The scars and after effects of chemo and radiation leave such permanent marks on our bodies. Just knowing we have a tiny bit of power to choose how we look is amazing! I’m so thankful I was able to choose between two different sizes of prostheses and believe me, there’s a huge difference between size A and size C prostheses! HUGE!

Help! I can't find my boobs!

This morning I was getting ready to go for my physical therapy appointment. I'd already had my shower and was just about to finish dressing. All I needed to complete my ensemble was my mastectomy bra and prostheses. I went to the dresser to retrieve my boobs from the storage containers and they weren't there! Since I have two sets of boobs, one small and one large, I looked in the second drawer and as I unzipped the storage boxes, my larger set of boobs was MIA too! Puzzled, I stood in my bedroom thinking. Had someone stolen my breasts??? No, that couldn't be. No one would want those things. Where could I have put my boobs? Since I don't usually wear them when I'm at home, they should have been right where they were supposed to be, but they weren't. Hmmm...After a few minutes, I decided to do a quick search of the house.

I looked in the bathroom, our bedroom and on all the flat surfaces in between those rooms thinking I must have laid them down somewhere. Because of their weight, I often remove my fake boobs as soon as I come in the door. They're uncomfortable and bothersome. My husband's gotten used to finding them flung over chairs, lying on tables, in the back seat of the car, and many other places. They usually end up in the strangest places and you'd think, since they cost so much money, I'd be more careful with them. Oh, I used to be. When I first got them, I was petrified they'd get damaged. Since my insurance company only allows me to get a new set of boobs every two years, I made sure to keep them in their little round zippered boxes resting gently in their little net hammocks so no harm would come to them. Since I've had them for a while now, I've gotten a little lax and my boobs aren't always cared for in a kind way.

My search continued and as I entered my dining room, I noticed something lying in the fruit bowl and it wasn't fruit. There dangling over the bowl was my black mastectomy bra and my set of small prostheses. I was so thankful to find them. As I picked them up, I remembered what had happened and how they'd ended up in the fruit bowl. The night before we'd gone out shopping. It had been extremely hot and my fake boobs had caused me to start sweating. Having that silicone against my chest was not fun and I'd struggled with them all through the store. I kept tugging and pulling at the bra trying to get a little air circulation going. After working for a while to remedy the problem, I told my husband I was going to them off the minute I got home and that's exactly what I did. I'd placed groceries on the kitchen counter, reached up under my shirt, unhooked my bra and released the culprits. I'd been so frustrated I'd flung the bra and boobs across the room not caring where it landed. As I remembered what I'd done, I couldn't help but laugh and be grateful we hadn't had company come by before I'd moved my lingerie to a more suitable place.

I took my small boobs and bra into the bedroom and lay them on the bed. I'd be wearing those to my appointment so there was no need to put them away. I still had no clue where my larger set of boobs was and I needed to find them so once again, I went looking. I searched high and low and couldn't find them.  They were nowhere in the house. If they were not inside the house, that must mean they were outside the house. I looked on the carport and they weren't there. Rats! This was not funny. My boobs cost about $600 per set. I couldn't let them just disappear. As I was trying to figure out where they might be, a thought crossed my mind. Check the car! Ahhhh!!! Yes. As I opened the car door and peeked inside, I saw one end of my white bra draped over a utility basket in between the bucket seats. Once again, I'd removed my boobs because of being uncomfortable. We'd gone out to eat and as soon as we'd gotten in the car, I'd whipped them out and plopped them into our little storage bin.

I've always hated wearing a bra. For me, it was one of the most ridiculous things ever. Why would you want to bind up your breasts and make them be held tightly in a brassiere? But that's what society expects and that's what we do. After years of practice, I learned to take off my bra without ever removing my blouse. I was all about modesty, you know. All I'd do was reach up toward my middle back, unfasten the hook and eyes, slip my arm inside my shirt, slide down one bra strap, put my arm back into my shirt sleeve and do the same on the other side. When the bra was free and clear, I'd grasp it firmly and sling it out from under my shirt. It was an art and I'd mastered it. But removing a bra that was empty was a little easier than one that was full. An empty bra flies through the air with the greatest of ease, while a full one usually lands with a thud. My sweet hubby has learned to duck and cover to avoid being hit by flying silicone boobies. And he knows, no matter where I am, if I've reached my breaking point in wearing them, they are coming off no matter who's around, where we are, or what we might be doing.

I was so glad to have found my second set of boobs. I took them inside and put them away. It's a good thing I'd remembered to check the car. It's been in the upper 90s the past few weeks and even hotter inside our vehicle. I don't know if silicone melts at high temperatures but I'm sure my boobs could have become warped or misshapen if nothing else. I guess I'd better learn to take better care of my prostheses. I'll admit, I've been taking them for granted lately. I'll try to make the effort to put them in their proper place from now on but I can't promise. If I get tired of wearing them, they're probably going to still come off quickly so beware! If you're around and you see me reaching up the back of my shirt it means I'm about to take action. You might want to bend over quickly to avoid getting pegged by a flesh colored silicone projectile. It could do some physical damage or it could just make you laugh hysterically, either way, you'd probably do best to be prepared. You just never know how long I can keep them on...

© bonnie annis all rights reserved