Comedy has always been Cindy-Ann Boisson’s safe space. Millennials may recognise her as the woman behind the iconic local Powermint ad where she famously said, “After a dinner of bake and smoke herring I suck two powermints in preparation for other things with my male companion.” And if there was ever a time that it came in handy for the now 54-year-old, it was in September 2025, when she was diagnosed with breast cancer.
“Well, you know one of the formulas for comedy is tragedy plus time,” she told Guardian Media in an interview from her home in Fort Lauderdale. She migrated to the United States 16 years ago, leaving her hometown of Paramin behind.
“I kept journalling through it all thinking one day this will be funny.” She remembers being apprehensive when her doctors removed the wound vac and another doctor poked his head into the room and said, ‘Girl, trust me! You’d want to see those new girls.’ “I thought, men will be men!” He continued, “Look, I know you’re going through it but your two sisters look good!” They all had a hearty laugh.
The diagnosis
During a routine check-up last year, doctors noticed a mass in her left breast. A biopsy confirmed abnormal cells, leading to a lumpectomy that December. Looking back, she says, “The oncologist was unprofessional and lacked empathy. He told me quite matter-of-fact that I still had some positive margins and he needed to remove more tissue. No empathy. Nothing. It was awful. Although I didn’t feel safe or comfortable, I hesitated to get a second opinion,” she recalls, adding, “Ladies, please do not feel bad walking away from a horrible experience. Sometimes these professionals forget we are their bosses.” After “bawling my eyes out,” Boisson called a friend who encouraged her to seek another surgeon.
“The next doctor turned out to be so full of compassion and knowledge and patience.” She walked into that office in tears and left reassured. “That is what we need more of,” she says. Because the cancer was caught at stage 0 (a non-invasive early stage where abnormal cells are contained within the breast ducts), chemotherapy and radiation were not required.
However, Boisson decided to undergo a double mastectomy because of her family history (her mother died of cancer), her dense breasts and the anxiety that came with every mammogram. “My toughest days are when I have to mentally and emotionally remind myself that I have two new ‘sisters’ and we are figuring out how to navigate this life together. Relearning what our bodies need sexually, finding new ways to feel. Giving ourselves permission to explore. It’s a real spiritual journey. I am so glad to be here to enjoy it.”
Boisson’s breast cancer diagnosis was not entirely a surprise. In 2020, she underwent surgery to remove a benign tumour in her left breast during the height of the Covid-19 pandemic. “Honestly, a big part of me was looking forward to the procedure. I had been experiencing a clear discharge for almost ten years prior, so I was always wearing a bra. After the surgery, I could once again free the nipples.”
In 2023, while living in New York, she got the familiar buzzing sensation again, which she realised was brought on by sugar. “So while nyaming down a cookie, I felt it—I hadn’t experienced it for some time—and I tossed the cookie in the garbage.” A year later, doctors found something in her right breast, but after the biopsy, it turned out to be calcification, which was benign.
The mental toll
Processing a cancer diagnosis is tough. Boisson kept the news from most people —talking about it made the situation too overwhelming, and she lacked the emotional bandwidth to console others while holding herself together. “I practised joy,” she says. “It sounds cliché, but I truly chose peace.” She adds: “I remember one friend saying what if something more had occurred during surgery and I was like ... I wasn’t thinking about that. I wanted to share when I felt strong enough to handle the conversations. I think they have forgiven me (or are probably reading this and thinking ... no ma’am, forgiven nothing!). They know the love is always there.”
Adjusting her lifestyle also went hand in hand with spiritual reflection and a change in diet. She had met a cancer survivor who introduced her to new ways of looking at food. She stopped drinking alcohol, noting, “I think I heard the choirs of my liver rejoice and sing praises!” Long walks while listening to some of her favourite podcasts —Angie Martinez and SmartLess, to name a couple—and regular conversations with God also kept her going. “Sometimes people are surprised that I pray so much because I love to cuss,” she jokes.
Once she disclosed the diagnosis, her people showed up. Joking that it was the first time her son answered all her calls, she says, “He is a man who does send me to voicemail regularly. My bonus daughter cooked and checked up on me too! She is another voicemail banton! Hubby was patient and a good uber driver. There were so many appointments!” Once her inner circle finally heard, she felt the outpouring of love. A close friend from Trinidad even travelled to stay with her. “At one point I was even considering rewriting my will to include some supporters,” she shares, laughing.
Back on stage
On December 13, Boisson makes a triumphant return to the stage in Fort Lauderdale for a performance that holds special significance, with part of the proceeds dedicated to supporting mental health, mindfulness and meditation resources for cancer survivors—in addition to helping with her own medical expenses.
“Healthcare is a rip-off in every currency!” she says. “Hopefully this show is the beginning of something more.” She already knows how to turn pain into purpose. When she lost both her parents, she found a way to honour them that mirrored how they lived—their love for community and for children—by starting a scholarship in their names.
Even the toughest times in Cindy-Ann Boisson’s life have ended in laughter—and she hopes her journey does the same for others walking a similar road.
