After I finished my radiation for breast cancer and started getting my energy back, I realized something. I had never asked anyone where the boob shop is. See, because of where my cancer was located, I had what I’d call a “partial mastectomy.” My medical chart says “lumpectomy,” but honey, they lopped off the top third of my breast. In other words, instead a gentle mountain peak, I’m left with more of a mesa situation. What would you call it?
It isn’t really that big a deal. I’ve been stuffing a little sock into my padded bra to balance things out and make my cleavage not look wonky. But the sock was too lumpy for my non-padded, comfortable bra, so more times than not, I’d go without my little helper. Not a big deal in winter, what with heavy sweaters and lots of layers. You’d have to really be looking for it to notice. But come summer, a sock wasn’t going to cut it.
I don’t want to go for reconstruction. The thought of having more surgery and healing again just seems overwhelming. Who knows, I might feel different down the road, and I know insurance covers it even if it’s been years. But right now; no way. My breast has seen enough action.
So, I call up the Cancer Center and ask them where the boob store is. They say I need to call the Breast Care place where I get my mammograms. Now, you’d think this kind of information would be part of the discharge package, right? I had twenty-one radiation treatments, and on that last day, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Before I could leave, though, they brought me into a little room and told me “everything I needed to know, moving forward.” While there was not mention of the boob store, they did go through a long litany of stuff that could go wrong. I was kind of hoping for confetti and a cupcake.
Anyhoo, I call up the Breast Care place and ask them where the boob store is, and after being put on hold for a dog’s age, I finally connect with a nurse who gave me the scoop. Turns out, you need a prescription for a prosthesis or special bra. So, they mail me the prescription and a list of places to go. Then I have to call my insurance company to make sure it’s covered and see which providers are within my network. So much rigamarole!
I chose a small lingerie shop in Bangor owned by this Franco-American gal, Cecile. My sister Irene and me walk in, and bing! The three of us look like we could be related. And man, oh man, did we ever have fun gabbing! Turns out Cecile had had breast cancer years ago, and ended up buying the place where she got her prosthesis. She worked with me to find the right shape and size. It took a bit of test driving, but we finally settled on one.
Because of the insurance hoops (paperwork, approval, and what-not), I couldn’t leave with my boob booster that day. Disappointing, but hey, I still have my trusty sock.
But last week, I picked up my prosthesis, and I just love it! There’s something about my new, better boob helper that just feels right. It’s the weight of it, I think. It makes me feel in balance and somehow whole again. Normal. And after something like cancer, believe me, normal is the best feeling in the world. Plus, it comes in it’s own little pink case. Can’t beat that!
That’s it for now. Catch you on the flip side!
IDA’S PODCAST: The Boob Shop
Summer Performances
August 6, 13, 20, 27: The Best of Ida, The Footlights Theatre, 7:00pm, Falmouth, ME
August 10 & 11: I Married an Alien!, ACT ONE Summer Festival, Friday at 7:30pm, Saturday at 2:00 and 7:30pm, Portsmouth, NH
Check out my full schedule here.
Join my mailing list. I’ll let you know when a new blog post goes up, where I’ll be performing next, and any other news that’s fit to print. Or you can like my Facebook page.