I guess it was mid day before I stopped looking down and checking myself out in whatever reflection I could find.  I was fairly symmetrical for the first time since November 10^th, 2009.  To be honest, I don’t know if I’m more self conscious right now with or without a breast on the left side.

I went to see the “fitta”, the other day.  She has been doing her job for over 20 years.  She’s worked with women who’ve had mastectomies, lopsided women, children/teens with physical deformities, some girls who are not able to grow their own breasts (i forgot what it’s called).  Her office is located at the Breast and Osteoporosis Center at the hospital.  She also works with girls, teens, women who have perfectly formed breasts too.   “I was so impressed when Dr. ‘Smith’ referred one of his patients to me. The woman didn’t have a heart attack, she was wearing the wrong size bra!”

The “fitta” really takes pride in her work.  Her largest project was a 54 LL or something like that.  She knows that a 38B might do better with a 40A, it just matters on the bone structure, broadness of the person’s shoulders or other anatomical anomalies.  She has a whole back room full of stuff from the most plain to the most lacey.  It didn’t take her long to find the right style and size for me.  She told stories that were like the “What Not to Wear show” in bra-land.  She could be a stand up comic in my opinion.  Amidst the hysterical stories, she also shared some very very touching stories that still bring tears to her own eyes, especially regarding one special needs, very deformed young woman who couldn’t stop looking at her new shape and who left her office with a huge smile.

She asked why I waited so long to get fitted.  She usually sees people as soon as the mastectomy incision heals, saying that she recommends that timing to help prevent the body from adjusting to the loss from a weight balancing perspective.  She’s more concerned about what others think than I am, and that was another of her reasons for getting a prosthesis soon after surgery.  I explained that I just didn’t feel ready to make the decision until I felt physically and emotionally healed from treatments.  She said adjusting to a prosthetic breast might tire my body out so I might want to work myself up by an hour each day.  Her recommendation was to wear it every day once I got used to it.  She said that she had her breast weighed on a mammogram machine.  She was 140 pounds and the breast weighed 5 pounds.  This is enough to affect balance and muscular/skeletal health.

I picked up a couple bras, the prosthesis and a tank, all of which will be paid for by my insurance (there is coverage throughout the rest of my life for a certain number of bras each year and new prostheses every so often), and I paid for a new bathing suit.  The garments have pockets to hold things in place. I walked out of there with a body hugging black tank top on like I was ready to show off my symmetry to the world.  The self consciousness didn’t come until the next morning.  From the P’s eye view, it’s not really a perfect match, but from the knowing observer’s view, it looks pretty convincing.  From the view of someone who is not aware of my journey, I suspect there would be minimal curiosity spawned.  I mean, how much time does anyone spend comparing left to right as they take in the human form?  Also, I’m not sure how symmetrical any of us are anyway.

I’m reminded of the experience of moving to Hartford and then to Washington DC.  I was not aware of how pathetically inexperienced I was in the land of race and skin color and had never really felt in the minority before that time.  Perhaps a bizarre connection to my experience now, but I have not really been overtly breast conscious in the 47 years prior to this experience.  Other than my experience in figure drawing classes, I had not really paid too much attention (from an aesthetic point of view) to the symmetry or shape of others’ breasts unless they were spilling out in front of me or were so big that I felt my back ache in sympathetic response.  When I started walking for fitness again as the weather got warmer and warmer and my layers peeled off, I didn’t even think about my asymmetry.  We walk at the golf course in the early morning when the landscapers and mowers are out in force.  I was told once that it’s none of my business what other people think of me.  This idea creats a shield for me I think, which protects me from being self conscious as my shape became more exposed.  I do think sometimes that this is just the reality of breast cancer.  I honestly don’t know what I’d think if I were the observer here.  The opportunity has never presented itself, or at least I have not noticed anyone sans breast.  There have only been a couple mornings as I’m sweating and walking up and around the course that I’ve noticed my consciousness of my form, but this doesn’t happen too often, nor does it linger or stop me from doing my thing.  I honestly don’t think most people notice at all.

Anyway, I went to work the next day complete with insta-breast.  As one might expect, as the day wore on, I became less and less aware of my special circumstances.  I can credit this in part to a fabulously fitting bra (thanks Rhanda).  I was not particularly fatigued or anything, having endured the whole day in my new contraption.  For the first time I felt like I was wearing an over-the-shoulder-bolder-holder.

I resisted going into every colleague’s office asking for an assessment.  BUT toward the end of the day, I did go into B’s office.  She’s my fellow snowman loving friend.  I pranced in, chest out and asked what she thought, as I twitched toward the left breast as a hint.  She was fairly impressed.  I mean, what are you supposed to say when a woman walks into your office asking you to look at her breasts and comment??  I was a good dube and kept my professional boundaries by not asking any male colleagues for their opinions.

Initially it feels in the way when I carry books in my left arm (Statue of Liberty style). It’s soft and all, but there, of course is no sensitivity.  (It reminded me of lying on my stomach while I was pregnant.  Something that hadn’t been there was there now, and it took some getting used to.) I was interested that I felt some, oh, I don’t know, grief or like I was this imposter or something.  It didn’t linger, but I want to be honest about the experience.  I had the “oh yea!” feeling as well, like, I think I remember what it was like to have one of these on that side, almost a familiar feeling of normalcy or something.  What a mixed bag.  By the end of the day, I was as oblivious to it as I could be on day 1.

I have to remember the reasons I chose not to get reconstruction immediately, and the reasons I still do not want reconstruction.  This choice has worked very well for me so far.  Being a rookie in the land of prosthetic breasts, I am, thus far, feeling good about the choice to get fitted.  Some things just fit better.  Shirts with buttons hang straight now.  (Really!) The large majority of bathing suits are made to mold around breasts, even tiny ones.  Sometimes I may just want to be balanced.  I like that I have the option.  I like that in the short time with this new companion that people have not even noticed anything.  That’s the best feedback I could ask for.