The brassiere. A woman’s necessary evil. I’ve never enjoyed shopping for bras, and to be quite honest, have always found it to be overwhelming. There are so many kinds of bras out there: underwire bras, wireless bras, padded bras, wonder bras, push-up bras, t-shirt bras, demi bras, bralettes, high support bras, racerback bras, strapless bras, front closure bras, bras with straps you can cross around your body in different ways, sports bras, full coverage bras, minimal coverage bras, and on and on and on. Ridiculous variety.
When I do get the gusto to tackle bra shopping, (which is usually triggered by my current bra poking me, digging into me, or literally falling apart at the seams), I find myself in the fitting room with at least 10 different bras praying that just one will work for me. I am not a large chested woman, yet I still consider this a daunting task. I was proud of myself last year when I took the time to get sized, listen to the sales lady’s advice, and refresh my bra collection. And then breast cancer made its surprise visit.
Beginning with the MRI guided biopsies, followed by surgery, radiation treatment, and recovery, I was instructed to wear supportive sports bras through it all, preferably a size up to accommodate swelling. Great, more bra shopping. However, once I found the right bra, I didn’t mind this too much. After all, I had bigger fish to fry. As I made my way through treatment, my sports bras became stained with the ink they used to mark me and I grew tired of trying to find shirts with necklines appropriate to cover them. And that’s when it dawned on me – as much I dislike bras and shopping for them, they represent normalcy. And femininity. Two characteristics compromised by cancer that I was desperately hoping to regain. I had no idea that a silly bra, an item I often had contempt towards, could signify this for me.
Imagine my excitement when treatment ended, my skin healed, and my swelling went down slightly. I couldn’t wait to get back into my old bras, to try to feel like me again. Ah, normalcy. A couple days in my pre-cancer bras was all it took to trigger utter disappointment. They hurt. A new kind of hurt. By the end of the day, it almost felt like rocks sitting at the base of my breast. I didn’t know what that was, but I knew it wasn’t right. Back to the drawing board.
I consulted with some nurses and did a little research that brought me to a new bra. And now I miraculously look like this:
Ha! Can’t knock a girl for dreaming! The bra that I found more comfort in is actually a far cry from the one pictured above. Although this model doesn’t make it look so bad:
Despite wearing the unattractive “post treatment” bra for 6 months following radiation, I’m still experiencing discomfort. A follow up visit to the doctor this week revealed edema of the breast – all this time and I was clueless. My surgery entailed several incisions and the scar tissue is not allowing for proper drainage. Hence, the density at the base of my breast and overall discomfort. And most likely a contributing factor to the extreme pain I experienced in last week’s mammogram.
So now I must see a lymphedema specialist. Yes, the specialist visits continue. I’m not sure why I thought it would be over. It’s never really over. Any guesses on what else the doctor recommended? You got it, a new bra! AAGGHH!! My “post treatment” bra apparently isn’t appropriately meeting my needs, and I’m really okay with saying goodbye to it. But now I must find a high support sports bra that has a high cut under the arm and offers compression. Any suggestions on where to find this are welcome.
More bra shopping – yep, I’m gonna have to find Katniss for this one.
Leave a Reply