Choose life

Yesterday my youngest daughter came to spend the weekend with us. It's always a joy to have her come; she's so full of energy and loves life so much. It was amazing how the atmosphere in our home changed when she arrived. Before she came, everything was so relaxed and peaceful. From the moment she walked in the door, expectation filled the air.

Oh to be young again and to be filled with a zest for life! I watched as she rolled her suitcase into her bedroom and came back into the living room. Immediately she began talking a mile a minute telling me about what's been going on in her life. I loved it! I hung on her every word. Her enthusiasm reminded me that I too, needed to be excited about life.

As I watched Jamie, I realized I had been experiencing a little depression. I knew I hadn't dealt with it, because when she asked me to go to town with her, I cringed. I felt safe at home. I didn't have to see anyone and no one had to see me. At home, I didn't have to worry about people staring at my flat chest.

Before Jamie even arrived, I had gone into my bedroom and put on my new silicone boobs. The mastectomy bra and the prostheses had been lying there since I picked them up last week. As I slipped the bra over my shoulders, I was astounded by their heaviness. I was unable to hook the bra myself because my arms won't bend that way yet, so I had to ask my husband to help. "Here, hold these!" I exclaimed to him, as I handed him the bra with the fake boobs inserted in it. "Wow, that's heavy," he said. "Yes," I said, "I don't know if I can wear this very long."

After hooking my bra for me, my husband returned to the living room. I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked pretty normal. I put a T shirt on and as I walked to the bedroom again, realized how uncomfortable I was at that moment. The fake boobs were so heavy and the bra was really pulling on my incisions. "Come help me get this thing off!" I yelled to my husband. He quickly came from the other room and I explained that I just couldn't do it yet. We removed the bra and I placed the prostheses gently back into their little pink pill boxes.

Jamie finally convinced me to go with her into town. She wanted to go get her nose re-pierced. She'd found a shop in Senoia that was open and had a good price for piercing. We drove about 20 or more miles and on the way, I told her that I wouldn't go in, that I would just stay in the car and wait for her. She asked me why and I told her I was self conscious. I didn't want people to see me without my boobs. She exclaimed, "oh Mom! No one's even going to pay any attention to your chest!" She persisted and finally, I caved in and went with her to the little tattoo/piercing shop. As I walked down the sidewalk to the shop, I was constantly using my arms to shield my chest from the view of passersby.

In the shop, there were several people in their mid to late 20's. There was a different type of energy surrounding them, they were all excited and all full of life. They were upbeat and happy. I watched them curiously as we waited. Why was I feeling self conscious and uncomfortable among these kids who were so open and free about expressing themselves?

The piercer came to get Jamie and as he held the door open for her to enter his little room; he continued to hold it even after she passed. He looked at me and invited me to come on back too if I wanted to join them. Hesitantly, I walked with them, trying to remain unseen. I stood in the doorway as the piercer did his work on Jamie. The entire time she was being worked on, I stood where no one passing behind me could see my chest. I was so thankful the piercer hadn't noticed my chest and that his back was turned toward me as he worked. At least now I could relax just a little.

When Jamie was finished, we went up to the front counter to pay. As we walked past other customers, I subconsciously shielded my chest with my arms. I continued to do this as we walked back to the car. Once inside the car, I felt safe and let my arms fall at my sides. How could I get past this? Was I always going to feel subhuman?

Driving back home, Jamie flipped on the CD player in her car. An upbeat song began to play and I realized that since surgery, I'd been living my life like a 33 1/3 record instead of like a CD!  I didn't want to give up and give in. I didn't want to let these feelings of being "less than" control my life. I wanted to live my life to the fullest! I've always done that in the past, so why now, was I choosing to live in a defeated state? Was I willing to let my lack of breasts destroy me? No! Was I willing to stay down in the dumps and blue? No! Well, then...what was I going to do about it?

I thought back to the kids in the piercing shop. They were exuberant. Sure, I know some of them were hiding behind their piercings or using them to express their feelings, but at least they were living. They weren't choosing to hide in a corner away from the gaze of others. In fact, they wanted to be seen! They wanted people to stare at their piercings and tattoos. They were bold! They grabbed life with gusto!

We pulled into the driveway and went inside the house. Jamie went to clean up her nose a little with some saline solution. I went in to talk with my husband and see how the football team was doing as he watched the game on TV. When Jamie came back into the living room and sat down, I watched her. She plopped down on the sofa and whipped out her cell phone. She was comfortable in her skin. She wasn't depressed or worried. She had chosen life.

Was I going to give up and lose hope all because I had no breasts? Was I going to continue to hole up and hide inside my safe space at home? Was I going to develop full blown agoraphobia? I didn't know the answer to any of those questions. I didn't want to feel self conscious and inadequate, but I did. I didn't want to stay at home all day long and not have interaction with others, but I did. I hope I don't develop full blown agoraphobia, but I might. My grandmother had it and was perfectly happy being at home in a safe environment.

I know it's not healthy to feel this way. I know it. But the reality of the situation right now is that I do feel this way. I do feel like a sideshow freak. I do feel inadequate. I do feel less than others. The faith filled side of me knows I am to walk in truth and the truth of the matter is that even though I have Cancer, I can rise above it and keep going. I can choose to live. The human side of me, the fleshly side, feels trapped inside my body. I feel like my confidence was lost when my breasts were removed. I struggle daily to find a healthy balance between those two sets of feelings...between faith and flesh. Some days I allow Christ to be my strength when I am weak and some days I don't. I'm human. I fail. The only difference is, I know the real truth and I know that with God I can overcome anything...it's just hard sometimes. No one gives you an instruction manual when you're diagnosed with Cancer. No one says you'll experience this..., it's normal to feel this way when..., nothing. They give you nothing. You have to figure it our yourself and if you don't have a strong spiritual background, you can forget it! Even with it, you'll experience days of depression and hopelessness. The difference is, you won't stay there. You'll pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again. You'll learn to forgive yourself when you feel confused about life. You'll be a little less hard on yourself when you're having a bad day. You'll make it.

I don't want to feel hopeless or helpless. I don't want to feel worthless. When I listen to the lies Satan whispers in my ear, though, this is what I hear. I have to choose which voice I want to listen to...do I want to listen to words of hope and affirmation or words of death and destruction? I want to live. I want to choose life. I want to always listen to God's words that fill my heart with His life and His hope. I want to hear Him whispering, "you are lovely...you are mine....you are beautiful...there is hope...I'm not finished with you yet!" Those words are filled with life.

Daily I struggle. I will admit that. I'd love to give everyone the impression that all is well and I'm doing fine, but that's not the truth. There are days when I am focused and walking in faith but there are also days when I am hurting deeply feeling I'm worth nothing. I wasn't going to admit this to you. In fact, I had written a perfectly wonderful blog post and put it up on the internet before now. I had walked away and was in my room making my bed when I heard the Holy Spirit speaking to my heart..."go in there and change your post. Tell them how you really feel. Let them know you are real." And that's just what I did. I came into my office, sat down at my computer and totally redid my post.

When I began this journey, I promised myself that I would be real. I wanted others to know what it's truly like to go through Breast Cancer. I said I wouldn't sugar coat anything. I was going to be open and honest. I wanted to use my blog as a ministry tool but also as a record of my own personal journey. My journey hasn't been easy at all. It's been filled with tears and pain. It's been the most difficult thing I've been through yet but I know even with all that I have yet to go through, I will make it, because I am a fighter. I want to live...I choose life.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved 

Compliance

Yesterday I went to the radiology clinic expecting to meet with the radiologist to discuss my recent CT scan and treatment plan, but instead, I went through another detailed mapping procedure. I was taken back to the dressing room and told to put on a gown. , I was lead into the radiation room and placed on a table that had my personal body mold affixed to it. I was thankful to have the mold underneath me because the table was narrow, cold, and hard. At least with the body mold, I had a nice, comfortable place to lie down.

Two radiology techs came into the room and worked to reposition me several times. They had placed a sheet underneath me so they could move me about easily. As they were working to get me into the proper position, I noticed there were lasers aimed at me. I tried not to look directly at them because I know lasers can damage your eyes. When they pulled the radiation machine over my chest, I could see a reflection of myself in the glass window. There were bright green laser lights highlighting my chest and the black dots, lines, and x's they'd made last week were being used for guide placements while new lines were being drawn. Several xrays were taken as the table vibrated while the machine worked. It felt weird lying there topless on this foam mold with lasers pointed at me from several different angles of the room. It almost felt like I was going to be disintegrated at any moment!

A large oval machine was moved into place and hovered over my chest. For some reason it made me think of one of my children's favorite Disney movies, "The Flight of the Navigator." In the movie, a 12-year-old boy named David becomes great friends with the artificial intelligence on an alien spaceship. He and "Max" are on a mission to retrieve star charts and solve the mystery of David's change in mental acuity. Max looks very similar to the radiation machine, which looks like a giant eyeball. I couldn't help but hear the word, "compliance," in my mind as I lay there. (Max, in the movie, always utters "compliance" whenever David gives him a verbal command on where to navigate the alien spacecraft.) As I lay there daydreaming, the radiology tech asked me to scoot over just a bit on the table and I almost subconsciously muttered, "compliance!"

For over forty five minutes, I was shifted and repositioned while the radiology techs marked and remarked places on my chest. I was surprised when they began marking up my neck and along my ribcage. I asked if they were going to include those areas in the field of radiation that I would be receiving and they responded yes. When I asked for an explanation, they said that those were areas most likely spots for the cancer to travel toward. I never thought my throat would be an area that would be radiated and this concerned me. I remembered the radiologist had told me that one of the side effects from radiation that could possibly affect me was an inability to swallow. Now it made sense. I surely hope I don't experience that!

As the table was lowered and I was helped up, I couldn't help but think, on Tuesday I'll be receiving a dose of real radiation. It seems it's been months since I was diagnosed but it's only been 7 weeks since my surgery. I am so thankful I don't have to go through chemotherapy! Radiation will be difficult but I think chemotherapy would be so much more difficult.

I'm a member of several Breast Cancer Facebook sites and many of the women posting on those are going through chemotherapy currently. Almost every one of them shares about some horrible side effect they are dealing with now. There's hair loss, nausea, vomiting, weakness, fatigue, bone and joint pain, etc. At least with radiation, I know I am not ingesting poison.

I don't understand how radiation is used to treat cancer. Doesn't radiation cause cancer? What about Nagasaki and Hiroshima? When we dropped the Atomic bomb many, many people died from radiation poisoning. I'm sure there are scientific calculations involved deciding exactly how much radiation I'll receive, but it sure is scary. Radiologists use computers to perform those calculations and computers are controlled by humans, and humans make mistakes. All I can do is trust that God has all of this under control.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I glanced over at the huge lead lined tower that housed the radiation equipment. The lead was supposed to keep the radiation from traveling outside the building. I wondered how many times radiation could be beamed into that room and stored into those lead walls before it became compromised. Science astounds me and while I don't understand it all, I am grateful for doctors who study for years and years to understand the field in which they work. Their expertise helps guide the treatment that many of us receive. I stopped at that moment and prayed for my doctor  to have wisdom and discernment as she planned my course of treatment.  I know God honored my prayers and He will guide Dr. Santiago in the days ahead.

Just like in the movie, the Flight of the Navigator, when little David doesn't have a clue where the spaceship is taking him, I have no idea what to expect in the days ahead. And just like Max, when the navigator instructs him on his next course of action, I'll respond with a hearty "compliance" as the doctors lead me on this journey. I will trust them as they mark out the next course, but even though they think they are in control, my navigator, Jesus Christ, controls every aspect of my care and He will never steer me wrong.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved  

Be brave and courageous

Over and over again this week, God has been speaking to my heart about being brave and courageous. Almost every single day, I come across a Scripture that refers me back to this continuing theme in my life. Yesterday, it was Joshua 1:9," Have not I commanded you? Be strong, vigorous, and very courageous. Be not afraid, neither be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." This morning, it was Psalm 27:14, "Wait and hope for and expect the Lord; be brave and of good courage and let your heart be stout and enduring. Yes, wait for and hope for and expect the Lord." What did it mean for my heart to be stout? I looked it up in the dictionary and found it to mean "heavy, large, or brave and determined." Why was God prompting me to be brave and courageous? I've never considered myself to be brave. What does He want me to learn? 

For me to completely understand, I did some research. I began by finding a transliteration of this verse in Hebrew. This is what I found, "wait on the Lord, be strong and He will instill courage to your heart." So it wasn't that God was asking me to muster up courage from somewhere deep within me; He was asking me to understand that he wanted me to be brave by accepting the courage that He was going to supply me with and sustain me with in the days ahead. It was His bravery that He was going to impart to me. It was His strength and His courage, not mine. 

Today I go to see the radiation oncologist. She's going to go over the results of my CT scan and give me an exact treatment plan. I'll be starting my treatment the day after Labor day. I'll be going to the clinic 5 days a week for the next 7 weeks and then have some booster doses of radiation for several weeks afterwards. I won't deny that I'm scared about the treatments. When the doctor went over side effects and things that might happen to my body during or after treatments last week, it was only natural to be fearful. Is this why God was prompting me to be brave and courageous? Wouldn't it be nice to be able to see into the future sometimes and know exactly what lies ahead? Sometimes I think it would be and then other times, I am so thankful God protects us from that knowing! I might not be able to handle knowing that I might experience something I would never have chosen for myself. 

Weeks ago, God lay on my heart a picture of bravery and courage. That picture was of a lion- a strong, fierce, roaring lion. If you've ever watched National Geographic, you know from watching a pride of lions that they aren't timid creatures. Every muscle of their body seems made for strength. Their ability to outrun their prey is amazing. Their powerful jaws can rip meat and sinew from bone with ease. Their mighty roar can echo for miles. They are strong. They are brave. They are courageous! When God gave me that visual image of a lion, I wanted a "real" lion to remind me of what He'd impressed on my heart. I put a post up on Facebook asking if anyone knew where I could get a little stuffed lion to take with me to my appointments and treatments. Within minutes, I got a response from a sweet friend who said she was sending one to me that very day. It might seem like a silly, childish thing for me to "need" an object to remind me of God's lesson, but for me, it was very significant. 

A few days passed and when the mailman brought a package to my door, I opened it with excitement and joy. Inside was a cute, curly maned stuffed lion. He did not look ferocious or brave, instead, he looked cute and cuddly. But he was a lion! He was symbolic of bravery and courage. It didn't matter that he looked cute and cuddly. I surely didn't look brave or courageous either, but the strength of God inside of me instilled me with those necessary traits. 

The more I thought about lions and their behavior, the more I learned about God. National Geographic has filmed lions waiting patiently as they select their prey. Often the lion will choose a wounded or weak animal as his target. When the moment is right, the lion springs forward on his powerful haunches and lunges toward his prey. His powerful claws rip into skin and muscle tearing away flesh as his teeth clamp down on the poor animal's neck rendering it helpless. There is no evidence of fear in the lion...none whatsoever.  

So why had God impressed upon me the need to be brave and courageous? Was He wanting to teach me, like the lion, to wait patiently as He helped me understand the Hebrew word, "chazak," the word that means be strong? Or was He wanting me to learn the word, nuach, another Hebrew word meaning to rest? I think He was wanting me to learn both but even more importantly, that He wanted me to understand that during my time of waiting and resting and being brave, He wanted to restore me and renew my heart within me! He wanted to use this time of suffering to teach me something very important. 

Isaiah 40:31 says, "They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” So if I learn to wait, as the lion does for his prey, I will be rewarded with renewed strength and vitality! Is this what God wanted to teach me? To wait upon Him takes strength and courage: strength of character to "will" to wait, and courage to do what others do not. 

As I look at that little stuffed lion sitting on my china cabinet, I am reminded to be brave and courageous. I'm also reminded that God is working on my behalf even when I can't see what He's doing. Right now, at this very minute, I don't really need any courage or bravery, or at least I don't think I do. While I'm waiting on my radiation treatments to begin, I'm in a holding pattern. I'm just waiting. But is God actively working in my life during this time of waiting? I think He is! I think He's busy preparing me for the next step on my journey. Just like the lion crouched in the brush watching his prey, I'm waiting. And when the time is right, He'll prompt me to spring forward and pounce. I'll sink my claws deep into the fear of the unknown that has terrorized me since I was told I had Cancer. I'll dig in deep and rip it from head to toe. When I'm done, I'll lean back on my haunches and let out a mighty, guttural roar...a roar that comes from His strength and not mine, a roar that is victorious, courageous, and brave. But in the meantime, I'm just waiting and I know that while I'm waiting, He's working. He's restoring, renewing, and revitalizing me in preparation for what lies ahead. I can be brave when it's His strength flowing through me. I can be courageous, when He is the one who provides the courage.

As I snuggle my little lion up against my face, I feel its softness. I thank God that He supplies the courage and infuses it into my heart. I'm thankful I don't have to figure out how I'm going to be brave in the days ahead. He will supply the perfect amount of bravery and courage just when I need it. When I am weak, He is strong. I am thankful that the Lion of Judah carries me through the storms of life! And if you listen closely in the coming days, you might just hear me practicing my roar...

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Thankful Thursday

Today I've been focusing on all the things I've had to be thankful about this week and I thought I would share them with you instead of writing my normal blog posts. I hope you understand it's important to keep a positive attitude of gratitude while going through any type of life situations but especially during a breast cancer journey. Keeping my eyes fixed on Christ, I am able to handle one moment at a time.

This week, I'm thankful for:

• For my husband's constant encouragement and support on a daily basis. He reminds me to always take one day at a time, which is very difficult for me.
• Being discharged from the occupational/rehab center - I don't have to return for Lymphedema treatments unless it gets worse when I start radiation next week. I have been trained to do the manual lymph drainage at home and will pick up my compression sleeves and camisole next week.
• For friends who haven't forgotten me! Once the "newness" of my Cancer diagnosis was over, many have fallen away from staying in touch with me. Those faithful few who've made a point to continually check in are precious to me. Just a card, call, email, or text message lets me know you're still out there and you still care. I can't tell you how much it means to me to know I'm not on this road alone.
• For God's constant provision - our bill basket is overflowing with medical bills. While I tend to be a worrywart and stress out about how we're going to pay them, my husband reminds me that God owns the cattle on a thousand hills and nothing is too difficult for Him. 
• Learning to wait - God is teaching me to wait. You'd have to know me well to understand how difficult this is for me to do. I have NEVER been one to wait easily. I'm always going, always doing, always in a hurry. This morning as I was having my quiet time, God emphasized to me that He is using this time to not only teach me to wait on Him but to renew and restore me. As I thought about that, it helped me want to wait! I had never understood that God uses times of trial sometimes to not only teach us something, but to cause us to be in a position for Him to rebuild, renew, and restore us. 
• For Hebrew - Yes! I'm thankful for the Hebrew language because it helps me understand the meaning of the Bible so much better. This morning, I studied the word "chazak" as I read Psalm 27. This Hebrew word means "stand like a man and be strong." It gives a whole new meaning to Psalm 27:14 "Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart." (Psalm 27:14 KJV) The transliteration in Hebrew says "Wait on the Lord, and be strong - stand like a man, and He shall instill courage to your heart." Continually, God has been emphasizing the need for me to be brave and courageous during my battle with Cancer. Studying Hebrew helps me know that when God calls me to be brave, He is the one who supplies the courage - from His strength - not from mine!
• For quiet days - when there's no distraction from noise, I can focus more on what God's saying to my heart. I enjoy peace filled days and the sound of silence. 
• For the sun's warmth- I am very cold natured and just being able to sit outside on a warm sunny day is such a blessing. 
• For a wooded lot - I enjoy sitting outside in my yard watching deer, birds, and other wildlife scurry about. I'm so thankful for the wonderful shade the trees provide and the gentle breeze that blows through them on a hot summer day. 
• For my cell phone - throughout the day, one of my children either call or text me. I'm thankful they want to keep in touch!
• For my laptop - it makes communication, research, and writing so much more convenient. 
• For the mail lady - whenever she brings a package up to me, she stays and visits for a little while. I enjoy having someone I can look in the eyes and talk with during the day. 

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Getting my new boobs!

I've been struggling with feelings of inadequacy since having my breasts removed. It's amazing how our breasts are tied to our self-esteem, isn't it? I never thought I would feel that way until I had my bilateral mastectomies and experienced for the first time going out in public totally flat chested. More than likely, I was the only one who really noticed my flatness, but I felt like everyone was focused on my chest. That feeling caused me to feel "less than" others around me. It bothered me that I felt this way. I had always been so self confident. Why was I feeling this way now? I had to figure it out. On the way to see the Lymphedema therapist, I couldn't help thinking about getting my new "boobs" today. Renewal had called late yesterday and told me they were in the shop and ready for pick up.

I arrived at the Rehab center a few minutes before 9 and said a quick prayer. I went inside and within just a few minutes, Alison came over to get me and take me back. Today's session wasn't quite as long as Monday's and she was impressed with the results from my last manual drainage. After working on me, Alison said she was going to discharge me! I was so happy! She advised me to continue the manual drainage techniques she'd showed me for home use and I assured her I would.

Driving to Renewal, I continued to think about my new prostheses. I wondered how I was going to feel when I received them. When I pulled into the parking lot, I smoothed down my wrinkled shirt. My chest was so flat. I wasn't worried about going into this store with a flat chest however because they see flat chested women all day long. The cashier met me at the counter and I told her I was there to pick up my order. After asking my last name, she went to the back to retrieve my items. When she came out, she had a large shopping bag in hand. She gently sat it on the floor and proceeded to ring up the sale. I was astounded by the price of the mastectomy products. Thank goodness we have insurance! Those things are sure expensive! Each prosthesis costs $300! I'm getting 2 new mastectomy bras and 2 prostheses. The total of my bill is almost $800 but thankfully I only have to pay $135 because of our insurance. I pulled out my debit card and was on my way in minutes.

I was surprised at the feeling of pride I experienced as I walked out to my car. I was really ecstatic to have my new "boobs!" I didn't expect to react this way; I thought I might be emotional and cry. I did not expect to feel extremely happy. I placed the bag in the back seat of my car and headed home.

When I got home, I brought the bag inside and went straight to my bedroom. I removed the items from the shopping bag and laid them on my bed. There were 2 mastectomy bras, one white and one black, and two prostheses. The prostheses were in pretty pink boxes adorned with a rose. When I opened the box of the first prosthetic, I saw a little pink zippered round box. I didn't want to open it just yet. I wasn't quite ready. I took the other prosthetic out of it's box and had the 2 pink round zippered boxes sitting on the bed. Why was I hesitating to open them? I guess I was afraid to see what they looked like and afraid to hold them, but I made myself do it.

I slowly and carefully unzipped each box. Inside, in a mesh sling, was a molded, flesh colored, silicone breast form. I picked one up and was surprised at how heavy it was in my hand. I don't remember my real breasts feeling that heavy. I hadn't ordered a larger cup size than I was, although I was given the option to do so. I'd kept my cup size at an A. These things felt like they each weighed a pound! I slipped them into my mastectomy bra like the fitter had shown me and lifted the bra up in front of me. It looked mighty heavy. I unbuttoned my shirt and put the bra on over my camisole. I was afraid the weight of the prostheses would be too much against my bare skin and they might pull on my incisions. I had trouble reaching back to hook the clasps, but after a few attempts, managed to fasten it. I turned to look in the mirror. The bra looked like it was sitting much higher up on my chest than my normal one, but this was the correct position for a bra according to the fitter. I turned slightly so I could get a profile view and decided they looked okay. I picked up my shirt from the bed and slipped it back on, buttoning each button slowly. When I'd finished buttoning them all, I turned to look at myself in the mirror. You'd never know they were fake! Under the shirt, they looked like real boobs! The bra was fit so snug and tight that the weight of the fake boobs wasn't bothersome. I pushed against one of the prosthetics with my hand to see what it felt like and was amazed to find that it felt very lifelike.

I decided not to wear the bra and prostheses today. I'd save them for going out in public. I'd gotten used to having no breasts and not needing to wear a bra and rather like the freedom it afforded me. I gently lay the bra with the prostheses still in it onto the little open zippered boxes. The instructions that came with the prostheses said to always store them in their little cases to prevent damage to them. I took both boxes and sat them on the little table in my bedroom. The bra looked strange lying there. I was instantly reminded of my mother in law who'd undergone a mastectomy years before.

I remembered the first time I'd seen her prosthetic and her mastectomy bra. It was when we were cleaning out her house to put it on the market. She was in an assisted living home at the time and we were helping to sort through her things. We were in her bedroom and I was going through clothes in her closet. When I'd finished that, I moved on to her dresser. Opening the top drawer, I saw it. This soft, molded tan form lying there. It overwhelmed me. I remembered feeling so sorry for her having to go through surgery at her age. I believe she was in her mid 60's or early 70's. I remembered back to her valiant fight against breast cancer. Though she only had one breast removed, she did not let it stop her from doing anything she wanted to do. She was amazingly active and was always dedicated her time to helping others. I wished I'd been more helpful to her after she'd first had her surgery. Back then, I don't think I completely understood everything that was involved in a radical mastectomy. I could have done more. I should have done more, but now it was too late.

Looking back at my prostheses, I was grateful. At least I'd have the option to wear them or leave them at home if I didn't choose to put them on. I was thankful for companies who have worked hard to form them into lifelike works of art that are very similar to our own breast tissue. I noticed that I wasn't feeling quite so inadequate any more. I was actually feeling a little more normal than I expected. I guess I'm getting used to the "new normal" that everyone keeps talking about after experiencing breast cancer. No, things will never be the way they were before, but this new normal wasn't going to be as hard to get used to as I had thought it would be.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

A surprise for me

Yesterday I went in for my Lymphedema treatment. I had no idea what the therapist was going to do but assumed it would be some sort of drainage or something. When she called me back into the therapy room, she had me put on a gown and lie down on the exam table. What came next was a complete surprise to me...she dimmed the lights and put on some soft music. This is weird, I thought to myself. She came over and sat down on a rolling stool beside me and donned purple latex gloves. Next, she proceeded to use her hands to make small circles on either side of my neck explaining that she was performing manual lymph node massage to encourage my lymph nodes to release some of the fluid they had stockpiled since my surgery. As I lay there looking up at her I felt very uncomfortable. I'm the one in my family who gives massages, I have never received one.

The therapist moved her hands to the tops of my shoulders, explaining that there were lymph nodes there and all over our bodies. Since my swelling is in the upper arms and armpit area, she said we would only focus on my torso. She moved down both arms continuing to press and make circular movements that went in the same direction. I asked her about her medical degree and she said she was a certified Lymphedema specialist. I asked if there were many of those in Georgia and she said there were not because it is a fairly new field of expertise. Manual lymphatic drainage is a technique developed in Germany for treatment of Lymphedema, an accumulation of fluid that can occur after lymph nodes are removed during surgery, most often a mastectomy for breast cancer. Well, I felt a little better knowing that she was trained to do this technique.

The room was very cool and there was a soft glow from the uplight in the corner of the room. Claude DeBussy's Clair de Lune was playing in the background. I commented, as she continued, that Clair De Lune was my very favorite music for relaxation. I said, "I think I could get used to this!" She smiled, looking down at me and asked me to turn onto my side so she could reach my ribcage better. By this time, I was feeling more at ease and actually began to enjoy getting this unexpected treat and I found myself smiling a little. Just knowing that Blue Cross/Blue Shield was paying for 30 of these treatments made me smile even bigger.

When Alison was finished (yes, we are now on a first name basis!), I felt so relaxed. I told her I'd never had a massage of any kind in my entire life. She told me that was a shame because I didn't know what I had been missing. I asked her how many patients she worked on a day and she said only 4 because she leaves early to pick up her children from school. I asked about her family and found out that she had 2 sons. One of them, her 11 year old suffered a pediatric stroke at birth and causing him to be unable to use one side of his body. I could tell this was a very painful topic for her so I did not ask any questions.

Before I put my shirt back on, Alison wrapped my left arm in a compression bandage. She said it was best to do it right after the manual lymph drainage to keep it from swelling up later in the day. Since I'd been having more trouble with the left side than the right, she said she'd only wrap this one side today and we'd recheck both on Wednesday. She gave me a copy of my prescriptions for the compression camisole and the Lymphedema sleeves and gauntlets. I have to go get fitted for those next week.

Driving home, I felt like a wet noodle! I was so relaxed, I thought I would slide right out of the driver's seat onto the floorboard. The swelling is definitely much better and I'm hoping it stays that way until Wednesday when I'll go and do this all over again. What an unexpected treat today was and if all doctor's visits were like this, I'd go to the doctor every day!

Listen to Clair de Lune by Claude DeBussey

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Where there's a will, there's a way

Last night I wanted to take a bath. Normally, that's nothing out of the ordinary but now, I couldn't just jump into my tub to soak because of all the black marks from my radiation mapping. When I'd had that procedure done early last week, the doctor told me not to get those wet. She said if they came off, we'd have to go through the whole process of mapping all over again. I surely didn't want that. Hmmm....what to do??? I could just run the water so it only came up to my thighs, but that wouldn't even feel like I was getting to enjoy my long, soaking bath. I could just forego the bath and take a shower...nah, I did that every day. My muscles were really aching and I needed a long, hot soak. After a few minutes, I had an epiphany!

One of my favorite movies of all times is Fried Green Tomatoes, based on the book Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg. It is filled with thought provoking drama and wonderful Southern humor. Jessica Tandy (Idgie/Ninny), Kathy Bates (Evelyn), and Mary Louise Parker (Ruth) play the lead roles in a story of a Depression-era friendship between two women, Ruth and Idgie, and a 1980s friendship between Evelyn, a middle-aged housewife, and Ninny, an elderly woman who knew Ruth and Idgie. The centerpiece and parallel story concerns the murder of Ruth's abusive husband and the accusations that follow. It's a movie I never tire of watching.

Recently, when my daughter, Erin, was in town, we had the pleasure of traveling to Senoia, Georgia to photograph the scene from the movie where Ruth's son, Buddy, loses his arm in a train accident. While we were there, we both sensed an eeriness of feeling the scene play out around us. Of course, it was only our vivid imaginations, but it was memorable to say the least.

Now, back to my desire to have a long, hot, soaking bath! (I know you wondered where in the world I was going with this post, but trust me and hang in there! It will all make sense in just a few minutes!) My mother always said, "where there's a will, there's a way." This old Southern saying meant if you wanted something badly enough, you'd figure out how to do it. Well, I really wanted that bath. I needed that bath. My epiphany came as a scene from the movie, Fried Green Tomatoes, flashed before me. In this particular scene, Kathy Bates, is attending classes on how to put the spark back in her marriage. She and her husband haven't been romantic in some time and she longs for that passion to be rekindled. In the scene, Evelyn (Kathy Bates) is sitting in a class taught by Fannie Flagg (the author of the book) and in the class, Fannie talks about how to get that "spark" back. As Fannie is speaking, Evelyn is daydreaming. She daydreams about wrapping her body in cellophane and greeting her husband at the door when he comes home from work in nothing but the cellophane. It's a hilarious scene but, it gave me an idea!

Cellophane!!! That was it! I ran into the pantry and pulled out a roll of Saran Wrap and hurriedly went back to the bathroom. I tried to wrap it around myself without much luck and so I called loudly to my husband, "can you come here and help me for just a minute?" Phil was watching Mountain Men on TV, a show about men who rough it in Alaska, and he didn't respond right away. I called to him again, "honey, can you come help me?" Within just a few minutes, he came into the bathroom to see what I needed help with. I explained my plan to him and instead of him looking at me like I was a crazy person, he calmly and patiently unrolled the plastic wrap and helped me wind it around my body several times. All the markings and dots were covered! Now I could get my bath!

Phil went back to watch his show and I ran my bath water. As I slid into the warm, soothing water, I think I heard music in the background...a heavenly TA DAH! (My Daddy always said TA DAH whenever he'd done something he was proud of and he wanted us to recognize him for his efforts.) I leaned back against the back of the tub and relaxed. The water was so pleasant and I could already feel my muscles unwinding. I glanced down at my abdomen and saw the Saran Wrap. Underneath the layers of Saran Wrap were large black dots and X's, and underneath all that were two long, dark red mastectomy scars. Boy was I a sight! I couldn't help but laugh and then I couldn't stop laughing! As I sat there, I couldn't help but think how you'd respond today as you read my post. If you aren't laughing at least maybe I've brought a smile to your face. There is indeed a way if you have the will and desire to do something. I think my Daddy would even be smiling because when I stepped out of the tub, I said a loud, "TA DAH" as I threw my arms open wide and grinned.

Watch the scene from Fried Green Tomatoes (Evelyn & Cellophane)
©bonnie annis all rights reserved