Canceritis

When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I immediately thought I'd been given a death sentence. I wondered how much time I had and I begin to become fearful. I went through all the motions, had the surgery, did all the treatments, and followed doctors' orders. I was a good patient. And now that my active treatment is officially over, I think I've developed a new malady...Canceritis.

It's common, they say, for breast cancer survivors to live in a constant fear of recurrence...after all, who wouldn't be scared to death that one of those random, rogue cancer cells might still be lurking around in your body? Surgeons can do amazing things but they never guarantee that they were able to "get it all." When treatment is over, it's difficult to go from being constantly proactive in fighting cancer, to allowing one's self to relax, let down the guard, and just get back to living life. Every new ache and pain causes a feeling of dread and a wondering of the big, "what if."

I was overcome by random pains yesterday. I hadn't felt anything like that since having my surgery. It was scary. Deep inside my right chest wall, there was a constant, nagging, very obvious pain. I reached up to touch the place where my breast once was and winced when my fingers brushed against my incision. As I felt along the surgical line, I noticed several places that were sensitive and enlarged. Had those been there before? Were these places of concern? Should I call my doctor?

I put some lotion on my hand and began to smooth it gently into my skin. I made a mental note of every lump and bump, every nook and cranny. I wanted to memorize what each place felt like so I could recheck in a day or two.

As I continued palpating my skin, I realized I have just a touch of Canceritis- a fear of the recurrence of cancer. While I don't want to admit that fact, it's definitely true. Canceritis has got to be one of the most common and least treatable side effects of breast cancer. There are so many remedies for other cancer side effects- nausea, hair loss, etc. The body heals, although it may often take some time, but the mind...that's another story. There's only one cure for that...faith.

How does a cancer patient learn to relax and let go of the fearfulness that a recurrence brings? The only way I know to combat that fear is by faith. Why should I allow fear of the unknown to have power and control over my life? I don't want to borrow trouble!

So instead of focusing on every little ache, every random pain, every new lump or bump I might feel, I'm going to leave the diagnosing to my medical staff. Of course, I will pay attention to my body and I will report anything that seems suspicious, but I'm not going to dwell on it and live in a constant state of Canceritis.

A couple of Tylenol knocked the edge off of the pains I was having in my chest. This morning, it's barely noticable. I'm thankful I don't have to walk in fear...that's a dangerous place to be. I'd rather think positively and realize I probably overdid it yesterday. I was quite busy and did lift several items I shouldn't have. Maybe I strained a muscle or maybe the scar tissue in that area was just loosening up a bit. In any case, I'm feeling better.

I never asked for cancer to come into my life. It was certainly an unwelcomed guest. There's a beautiful poem by Michael Hayes Samuelsen speaks so profoundly into the lives of Breast Cancer survivors and it has certainly meant a lot to me. I hope you'll enjoy it too.

Close the Door When You Leave

I never asked you to visit…at least I don’t believe I did
Maybe…I don’t know
It’s so confusing

At any rate, you’re a rude guest
You take my energy,
Rob my sleep, and with a stick

You swirl and distort my dreams
All right; You are here -- for now
But understand

There are two places
That are forever off limits

You may not tread on my spirit

You may not occupy my soul

I have heard of your visits to others
I know the damage you leave in your path
The wanton disregard for innocence, value, and what some would call fairness

Also, I hear that laughter confuses you; that good foods make you feel bad, and
That nothing causes you more distress than an autumn sunset, the forever blue of a summer sky,
Or the unconditional radiance of a child’s smile

Listen and understand
You might pilfer my closets, empty all the drawers, and trash my house
But there are two places forever off limits

You may not tread on my spirit

You may not occupy my soul

Do not mistake my nausea, weakness, and pain as signs of your victory
They are simply small dents in the armor I wear to fight you
Instead, look deeply into my eyes

They will once again remind you that there are two places forever off limits

You must not…

May not…

Will not tread on my spirit

You must not…

May not…

Will not occupy my soul

Canceritis may come and go. I'm sure in the days ahead I will experience more aches and pains that may lead me to become just a tiny bit fearful again. But those aches and pains along with that fear can only touch my body. It can't touch my spirit or my soul. I will not choose to walk in fear, but instead, choose to walk in faith. My days are numbered by my Heavenly Father and He is the only one who knows when He will call me home. Until that day, I've got a whole lot of living left to do!


©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Flying boobs

Well, today was an interesting day. Early this morning, I had a doctor's appointment. It was time for my yearly physical so I was thankful I wasn't going to another "-ologist." Since my husband and I had our appointments back to back, I figured what the heck, I don't even think I'm going to put my boobs on today. I'm finding that I'm getting more and more comfortable without them as long as I have a print blouse on that camouflages my flat chestedness just a little. So we jumped in the car and got on the road. When we arrived at the medical complex, there was only one other car in the parking lot. So far, so good. I didn't have to worry about hiding my chest.

Walking into the building, I was enjoying the cool breeze blowing through my hair. The weather had changed since yesterday and was cool enough for a jacket. Once inside the building, hubby and I chatted while waiting for the elevator to come down.

The waiting room was empty as we entered. We were the first ones at the desk and quickly got registered and seated. Soon we were each being called back for our appointments. I was taken back first and Phil waited to be called a few minutes later. The doctor diagnosed both of us with upper respiratory infections and prescribed medications. Next, we headed to the lab.

At the lab, I waited to be called back for blood work. I always have to remind the nurses they can't stick me anywhere but in my left hand and the tourniquet has to be placed near my wrist. They always look at me like I'm crazy until I explain that I have Lymphedema and that I've had both breasts removed as well as 6 Lymph nodes. You'd think they'd make a note of this in my chart since I've been to this same lab several times already, but they don't.

Finally we were done at the doctor's office and now it was time to find a quick place for breakfast. Fasting for blood work isn't fun when you're used to eating breakfast very early in the morning and we were both starving! Directly across the street from the doctor's office was another medical building that housed a small cafe. We grabbed some breakfast sandwiches and coffee and talked about our next appointment of the day.

After breakfast, we sped back to the house to change clothes for our next appointment. This one was much more important than the doctor's visit. Since we'd be going to downtown Atlanta, I decided to dress up a little and felt the need to wear my boobs. A high class office park would be full of business men and women. I didn't want to look like a frump, so I donned my camisole with the polyester fiberfill "poufs." They were so much lighter than the silicone breasts and I felt much more comfortable in them.

When we pulled out of the driveway, I glanced down at my chest. My boobs had migrated to the center of my chest and formed a "uniboob." I carefully separated the girls and patted them into position while I whispered, "stay" to them. On we drove and about twenty minutes later, I felt them rising up along my chest. They were just under my chin now. I told my husband that my boobs wouldn't stay put. He laughed and said, "take them off." So, I began trying to finagle the polyester forms out of the camisole without taking off my shirt.

After a lot of work, I finally got one of the boobs out. I was so glad! Now for the other one. The one on the left hand side was more difficult and try as I might, I couldn't get it out. We were driving down the road and I was lifting my shirt up trying to get the boob out. It was stuck on something! I asked my hubby if he could help but he said he couldn't because traffic was heavy and he had to keep his eyes on the road. I continued to pull and yank and tug. Finally, I was able to get the fiberfill form free of the camisole. I lay the two breast forms in the center of our captain's chairs and we drove on.

When we arrived at the office park, we had to valet park because there were no free parking spaces anywhere. I looked at my husband and said, "what am I going to do with my boobs?! I don't want the valet to see them!" He told me to hide them and I asked where. He said, "throw them in the back of the van!" So as we were pulling into the office park and circling into the valet parking area, I was madly pitching my boobs into the back of the van. The first one flew into the cargo hold perfectly, but the other one hit the window and bounced into the back seat. I scrambled to grab it and ditch it just as the valet came up to the window. Whew! Thankfully he didn't see them!

As we exited our car, a gust of cold wind blew into my face. I grabbed my jacket and held it up to my chest, not realizing I could have easily slipped it on. As we entered the building, I was clutching the jacket to my chest. I guess subconsciously I was trying to hide my booblessness from the elite business people walking to and fro in the common area.  At the base of the elevator, a huge smile came across my face. I couldn't help thinking about my flying boobs and wondering if the car behind us had seen those unidentified flying objects being hurled across the interior of our car. I wondered what in the world they must have thought if they did see me flinging something into the air. Flying boobs...what a concept!

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

Why am I still so tired?

Early morning energy

I let my book slip gently from my hands to the floor. It was 10:30 p.m. and I was exhausted. As I lay in the bed, my mind wandered back over the days events. It hadn't been an ordinarily busy day and yet, I had been tired most of the day. Oh yes, I had made myself walk 2 miles at the park and I had kept a smile on my face the entire time I was doing it, but it was hard. I just don't understand why I'm still so tired. It's been 10 months since my surgery and 6 months since I completed radiation treatments. Shouldn't I have regained all of my energy by now?

Throughout the day, my children and my husband remind me to take time to rest. They tell me that even when I'm supposedly resting, I'm usually doing something else and I need to just stop and slow down. They know me well. I can't just sit and watch a movie on television. If I'm sitting there, I'm usually writing letters or crocheting or doing something else too. I've always felt the need to make the most of my time. "Remember, Bonnie, idle hands are the Devil's workshop." (I can almost hear my grandmother sharing this old idiom with me as I type this.)

I'm not used to having to slow down but my body is telling me otherwise. I guess I need to realize that I'm the only one who's set the bar high. No one else is expecting me to "be" or "do" anything. Why is it so hard to just relax? I'm tired but don't take time to let my body "catch up." Who am I comparing myself to anyway? Why do I feel the need to constantly stay busy? Is it to keep my mind off of things, perhaps.

For the past few days I've been fighting an upper respiratory infection. I've noticed it has affected me more severely this time than times in the past when I was ill. Maybe my white blood cells are low. Maybe that's why I'm feeling so very tired. Tomorrow I'm going to the doctor for a checkup and I'm sure he'll draw blood so we'll see.

I get so frustrated when I want to do things and can't do them. I guess I just need to learn to shift my focus from what I can't do to what I can do. I'm so thankful for the times of day when I have little spurts of energy. Those are the times I try to accomplish my biggest tasks. Friends wonder why I get up at 6:00 a.m. when I'm no longer working. I don't want to tell them it's because I know I only have a small window of time that I'll have energy to do what I need to do.

I'm still struggling with the swelling in my upper arms. I guess this is something I'm just stuck with from now on. Since having those lymph nodes removed, my lymphatic fluid just seems to collect around my armpit and upper arm area. It makes movement limited and I have to remember not to lift anything heavy.

Hopefully, my energy level will continue to improve. If it does, I'll be overjoyed but if not, I guess I'll have to learn how to do the best with what I've got. I need to remember my body is still in fighting mode.

It's amazing what a smile can hide! Even when I feel my lowest, I try to smile. I know it wouldn't do a bit of good to get down in the dumps and depressed. If I can just keep a positive outlook, I know things will be so much easier.

One day I'll be soaring again and be full of energy. I can't wait for that day to come!

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Sick and tired

Here I go again, complaining. I'm sorry. If you want to stop reading now, I completely understand. I don't mean to complain, really I don't, but I am just so sick and tired of being sick and tired.

The other day, I caught my husband's upper respiratory infection. He didn't mean to give it to me but he did. I was already feeling pretty crappy thanks to the general malaise after radiation therapy and surgery. Now, I have to deal with these extra germs on top of that.

My energy level is kaput! I could barely drag myself out of bed today. I don't ever stay in bed past 7 a.m. but this morning, I stayed in bed til 9 a.m.! That's very unusual for me but I was just so stinkin' tired.

I feel like all of my get up and go, got up and went. Have you ever been anemic? If so, you know what I'm talking about here. It takes every bit of effort I can give to just walk across the floor, but I make myself do it.

It isn't something I want to consider, but I keep hearing a nagging little voice in the back of my head saying, "what if it isn't just the upper respiratory infection that's bogging you down? What if the cancer has come back?!" I don't want to listen to that little voice. I don't want to even think about it but I have been having more and more aches and pains lately.

My upper spine, in between my neck and the middle of my shoulder blades, hurts all the time. A deep hurting, down in my bones....and that worries me. My left shin bone aches incessantly, again, deep down in the bone. I try not to dwell on the pain, but it is pretty annoying. At night, it gets even worse. I guess that's because I'm lying still and nothing is distracting me from feeling the pain.

Dr. "F" always asks me when I go for my checkups if I'm having any weird headaches, stomach pains or bone/joint pain and to date, I haven't had anything to report. I know he asks these questions to determine if there has been a recurrence. On this next visit, however, I'm going to have to tell him about my spine and shin. I wonder if he's going to finally order a PET scan for me. I haven't had one yet and most of my friends who've also been diagnosed with cancer have already had several of them. I don't want to borrow trouble, as my grandmother used to say, but I'm really tired of hurting. I'm really tired of being sick...and I'm really tired of feeling tired. I just want my energy back again.

My hiking boots are lying on the floor of my closet. They've been there for some time now. I don't want to retire them, but I wish I had the energy to just put them on and do some hiking. Usually, at this time of year, I'd be out in the woods on a trail somewhere. My mind says, yes...let's do it, but my body says, no, we can't.

So I guess I'll sit inside and read a book. Someone told me recently to listen to my body because it was telling me I needed to rest. I'm not used to resting. I'm used to being busy and going and doing...
When will this season of my life be over? I'm frustrated.

God, I don't know why I've been chosen to suffer these physical ailments, but I know you have a purpose for them in my life. I don't like them. I don't want them. Could you please take them away or at least spread the suffering around a little? I know my ailments pale in comparison to so many others but I can only complain about what I'm going through because these are the things that affect me personally right now. You say in your Word that we are to cast all of our burdens upon You, so that's what I'm doing right now. I'm taking these aches and pains and casting them onto your sturdy shoulders, and I'm trusting You to do with them what you will. Forgive me for having a pity party. Forgive me for complaining. Forgive me for focusing on myself today instead of keeping my eyes fixed on You. Forgive me for falling short. Forgive me for listening to the lies of the enemy whisper in my ear, "your cancer has returned." I know You are the only one who controls when or IF the cancer ever comes back in my body, and I'm choosing to trust you that it will NEVER come back again. But even if it does, I know you will give me the strength to face that day and You will provide everything I need to get through it. Thank you, Father, for reminding me that when I am weak, you are strong. I'm glad you're so very strong, because today, I feel so very weak. Thank you for loving me anyway, in Jesus' name I pray, Amen.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Why do guys always stare at women's chests?

I'm making a general assumption that my title for this post is very close to accurate although I know there are some men who do not fall into this category at all...but hey, I don't know if it's just me being more self conscious lately or what, but almost every single guy I've come into contact with over the past few months has done this....case in point, today it happened again.

It was time for our quarterly bug treatment. Our regular guy was sick so they sent a substitute. When I answered the door, I was face to face with this big guy...probably 6'5" tall. I was looking him straight in the eyes when he introduced himself but almost immediately, his eyes traveled to my chest. Haha, I thought to myself...you didn't get what you expected did you? Instead of seeing a voluptuous woman, you saw a concaved chest. I had decided not to wear my prostheses today. (I don't usually wear them when I'm at home by myself. They're just too uncomfortable.)

Don't get me wrong, the guy wasn't a pervert or anything from what I could tell anyway...he was just your typical, run of the mill guy. I don't know if all guys are wired to react this way or what but I do know that men are visual creatures.

Wouldn't it be funny if women were that way too? I bet guys would feel really strange if we immediately stared at their crotches when we were introduced to them...no, on second thought, they'd probably be really flattered and it could get ugly really fast.

You may be wondering why I'm writing about something so silly today but I just thought it odd that my chest was more important than my face. I wonder what he was thinking after he glanced down to my chest and found it boobless.

We did have a nice conversation while he was here and I even gave him a music CD that he enjoyed listening to while he was working. (I usually have a peaceful CD playing in my CD player during the day because I enjoy the mood it creates. He commented on it and asked what I was listening to so I felt led to just give it to him) I think that surprised him more than anything.

Well, the incredible boobless woman strikes again! I'm not able to leap over tall buildings in a single bound, but I can shock the socks off of an unsuspecting stranger with kindness! That will teach you, Mr. Exterminator, to keep your eyes locked on your customer's instead of allowing them to float down to her chest. Some women would have slapped your face, but I slapped you with a nice gift. Okay. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. The end.

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

Rainy days and Mondays

Karen and Richard Carpenter

The Carpenters were one of my favorite groups back in the early 70's. Their mellow songs could transport me in a sea of calm faster than anything else in the world.

Karen had such a sweet, gentleness to her voice and Richard, her brother, sounded just as kind. I loved watching them perform together. I'd never seen a woman drummer before and Karen was amazing! They had such a chemistry and it was evident that they loved and cared for each other deeply. That was one reason I loved them so...I always longed for a relationship like theirs. 

So many of their songs became instant hits...but one of their songs, always bothered me...not because it wasn't popular, but because of the message. Rainy days and Mondays is the name of the song that struck such a deep chord within me and today, although it's not a Monday, that song came to mind. 

It's been raining here for the past two days and it hasn't let up. All next week, the weathermen are predicting even more rain. I'm hoping they're wrong because this dreary, rainy weather has been making me feel really down in the dumps. I'm not one to get depressed easily so I don't quite understand why I'm feeling this way. Old hurts have surfaced and I just want to sit and cry. Why do we find such comfort in throwing our own pity party? I had to ask myself this question today and I got an answer. 

As I thought about why I was feeling so down and alone and like no one cared about me at all, I could almost envision Satan laughing at me. I could just picture him getting pleasure from my misery. And as I began to think about it even more, I realized that Satan’s strategy is devastatingly simple and effective. He wants us to live in regret of the past and fear of the future, effectively robbing us of the joy of today. 

When it's overcast and rainy, it can be very depressing because it can cause us to become introspective. Often, when we're looking inside ourselves, we become overly critical with things we don't like and that causes us to become sad or discouraged. It's hard to accept the things we can't change or the things we have no control over and that's where Satan tends to prick us. He loves to accuse us and tells us lies about ourselves because he knows if we begin to believe those lies, he's gained a stronghold in our lives. Instead of believing the truth of who we are in Christ, we wallow in self pity. 

When I find myself sliding down the slippery slope of depression, like these rainy, dreary days invoke, I make myself realize that listening to those lies is very dangerous and detrimental to my health. If I don't cling to the truth, I can easily slide into a pit of despair. So how do I combat dreary, depressing, rainy days? Let me tell you.

The first thing I do is put on some upbeat music...something that makes me want to dance! Music has the power to change my moods very quickly. After I put on my happy music, I open ever window blind in my house. I want to let in as much light as possible. Even on dreary days, there's some light outside and letting as much of it in as possible really helps. The next thing I do is remember and quote Scripture out loud. Here's a verse that often helps me: 

The LORD is my strength and shield.
I trust him with all my heart.
He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy.
Psalm 28:7

After listening to Scripture verses, I call someone who can offer me some encouragement. I don't necessarily tell them I'm feeling down in the dumps, but often, they can hear it in my voice and just know I need some loving kindness.

By  the time I've done all of these things, I'm starting to feel much better. The clouds of gloominess have faded away and that spirit of depression is gone. Rainy days don't have to get your down, but when they do, look for something to make you smile. Count your blessings! Every day is a treasure. A heart of gratitude is one of the best ways to dispel depression. And if you don't know any of the Carpenter's songs and would like to listen to an upbeat, happy one, may I suggest you listen to "On Top of the World"? It's a good one! You can hear it by clicking here. 

Listen to Rainy Days and Mondays here.

Listen to the Carpenters Greatest Hits here. 

Lyrics to Rainy Days and Mondays:

Talkin' to myself and feelin' old 

Sometimes I'd like to quit, nothin' ever seems to fit
Hangin' around, nothin' to do but frown
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down
What I've got they used to call the blues
Nothin' is really wrong, feelin' like I don't belong
Walkin' around, some kind of lonely clown
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down
Funny, but it seems I always wind up here with you
Nice to know somebody loves me
Funny, but it seems that it's the only thing to do
Run and find the one who loves me
(The one who loves me)
What I feel has come and gone before
No need to talk it out
(Talk it out)
We know what it's all about
Hangin' around
(Hangin' around)
Nothin' to do but frown
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down. 

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Life is just normal

It's Wednesday, just another ordinary day of the week...hump day. The weekend is almost here and today has been a good day! I woke up! I heard the birds singing and saw the sun shining through my window. When my feet hit the floor, I realized, "hey! I am alive!"

I got a shower and got dressed, ate breakfast and checked my emails. I put a load of laundry in to wash and unloaded my dishwasher...routine, every day, normal things that I do every day and I was happy to do it!

My daughter came over to visit. We went shopping and then went out to eat. We laughed and talked. Nothing exciting, just normal. NORMAL. I never knew how much I liked to hear that word, but it has suddenly become one of my favorite words.

The dictionary defines NORMAL as "conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected." And that's exactly how I want my days to be from now on, just normal. I don't want anything fancy or elaborate, normal is enough for me. 

So many days since my surgery have been abnormal...days of tests and appointments...days of treatment and medicines...days of discomfort and tears. I'd almost forgotten the normal days, the mundane days, the days of routine and comfort. I never thought I'd say I was just happy to have a normal day but I am!

Medical appointments are getting more and more spread out now. My calendar actually has some holes in it these days and I'm thankful. I don't have to go see the oncologists every month as I did after I was first diagnosed, instead, I go every three months and that's helping me get my life back to normal. I'm starting to plan more and look forward to things again...normal things like holidays, birthdays, vacations. 

I'm starting to pick up my hobbies again...painting, sewing, writing, drawing, and jewelry making. I'd put all of those aside for months but now, my life is getting back to NORMAL and I am doing things I enjoyed doing B.C. (before cancer.)

It's nice to finally start to focus on things other than cancer for a change. Who knew it could be wonderful to just look forward to a nice, ordinary, normal day? I certainly won't take them for granted any longer. I'll welcome them with outstretched arms and enfold them into a tight embrace. Oh, life is good...so very good...and I am so thankful to be alive!

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Learning to accept plan B

Yesterday was a tough day...I'll admit it without any reservation. The more I fought against my physical limitations, the more they proved to me that they would win, and they did. I didn't like it one bit. I pouted and sulked. I was mad. I wanted to do what I wanted to do and when I wanted to do it! I was acting like a spoiled rotten little brat and while I did cross my arms...I didn't stamp my feet.

It's rough to have to learn to accept plan B, but today, I've decided that if I can't have plan A...the plan that I worked up in my own mind of all the things I wanted to accomplish in one day, then I'd have to learn to settle for plan B.

Today was a plan B day although I didn't know it when I woke up. I had thought it was going to be a plan A day. Even before my feet hit the floor, I'd made a mental checklist of all the things I was going to accomplish today. I had so many things on my list that I had to make myself eat breakfast first so I'd have energy just to begin working on my list and after I'd eaten, I got busy.

For about an hour, I began working on the first item on my Plan A checklist. When I accomplished that task, I smiled and got ready to begin the next task. I was on a roll! I was so proud of myself. Today wasn't going to be a day like yesterday, it was going to be so much better! But just as that thought slipped out of my brain, I got a text that changed everything.

It wasn't fair. I had been working so hard and doing so well. Now I had to drop everything and do something for someone else. Plan A was being tossed out the window and as it was sliding out, just underneath the window sill, I tried to grab it by the tail and hang on...

For the next 2 hours, I worked on the project I didn't have on my checklist...the one that came to me in a text. It was urgent and had to be done today. It was for a family member who was at work and couldn't take care of the project on company time. Love won out. I agreed to do the project out of love and that was why plan A could get away from me.

When I'd finished the project, I noticed it was almost 1:30. I hadn't eaten lunch. I was hungry. As I at the table eating my sandwich, I tried to formulate plan B. I could feel my arms already swelling and getting tight...just like they did yesterday. I knew I wasn't going to be able to accomplish plan B either...well, not today anyway. Maybe I could work on plan B tomorrow.

And so, I was reminded of a verse of Scripture. "Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the LORD that will stand." Proverbs 19:21. I can plan and plan and plan but my plans won't always come to fruition. Sometimes I can accomplish the things I set out to accomplish and other times, I can't. For a type A personality, an overachiever, people pleaser, gotta get it done now kinda person, that's a hard lesson to learn. But maybe God's teaching me that it's okay to let plan A go and that sometimes, plan B is a much better plan than plan A was to start with!

Several of my friends have sympathized with me saying, "you just have to get used to your new normal." What is a new normal? For me, I've yet to find out but I think it's going to include learning to understand my physical limitations and accept them. It will more than likely include learning to rest when I'm tired and learning to say no when I need to...that's a hard one for me! I don't ever like to tell someone no but...the people pleaser in me has now died. I know it's okay to set boundaries. They're healthy and necessary. They protect me from overextending myself.

So, Plan A...you were so grand and so wonderful. It was an honor to work with you while it lasted but now, it's your turn, plan B....whaddya got??? Will your list be much shorter? Will it be more simple? Will it involve less detail? Hmmm...I just might like you, Plan B, if I can just get used to you. "I'm sorry plan A," I say as plan A slinks out of the room with a huff.

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

Lymphedema sucks big time! (forgive one more rant, please!)

I wish this was going to be a sunshine and roses post, but it's not, so be prepared. I'm not usually a grouch monster but today, I can't help it....I have a good excuse.

This will be a very short post because my arms are extremely swollen. I was trying to do some sewing today for my grandchildren and was making a good bit of headway until my arms started swelling. I took a little time away from my sewing machine to do the manual lymphatic massage and got the swelling down enough to put on my compression top. After putting it on, I went back into my office/sewing/craft room to resume my projects.

The compression top was extremely uncomfortable and I haven't worn it in a long time so it was rubbing underneath my armpits. It was really tight and I wanted to take it off, but knew if I wanted to keep on sewing, I'd have to keep it on. I managed to wear the compression top and do a couple of hours of sewing before giving in to defeat. I had done all I could do and I knew I had to take off the top.

About the time I was realizing my limitations, my husband came in from work. He's always so sweet to me and started chit chatting about his day. I burst into tears and told him I had to get this top off right now. I reached up underneath my t shirt and unzipped the compression top. I unfastened the hook and eyes and undid the Velcro, pulling the compression top off in one quick motion. What a relief to have that torture device off!

My arms are so swollen now that I can't do another thing. Hubby tells me to go put them up on pillows and rest. I'm so frustrated. I can't get used to being unable to do the things I used to do...lymphedema sucks big time and it will never, ever, ever go away. I'm stuck with it for the rest of my life. Isn't it enough to have your breasts removed? Did I have to end up with non-stop swelling too?

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

Art therapy and writing class

Today was Cancer Wellness Center day for me. On Thursdays, they offer an art therapy class and a writing class. I've been trying to make myself get out and attend the classes because I know it's good for me to have fellowship with other ladies. It's fun to be around them and just enjoy laughing and talking with them. Even though the classes are a fun, creative outlet, I'm amazed at what they bring out of me emotionally.

Today we worked on another tissue paper mosaic. Tearing the colored pieces of tissue paper was monotonous, but while we were preparing our medium, we had some good conversation. I got to know a couple of the ladies a little better as we talked and found out that I was the youngest one in the class. I was surprised about that. The other ladies looked about my age but they were in their mid 60's and 70's.

We worked for about an hour and a half tearing and gluing, gluing and tearing...making a water scene from blues, purples, blacks, and greens. They we added in some oranges and yellows for reflections of leaves. As we were working, I realized I wasn't thinking about anything except putting the next piece of tissue paper on my canvas. It was so relaxing and methodical.

Before I knew it, it was time to clean up. Art class was over and we were told we'd finish up next week. Where did the time go? It had flown by! There were jiblets of tissue paper all over the tables and on the floor. Spatterings of glue were flecked here and there. I took a sponge of hot water and began wiping up my area. After it was clean, I left for lunch.

One of the other ladies asked me to join her for lunch in the hospital cafeteria. I had no idea where it was, so I followed her there. It was a nice, open area with a salad bar, hot bar, drinks and desserts. I opted for a salad since I'm trying to eat healthier. During lunch, we talked about our diagnoses and treatment. I don't guess I'll ever be able to get away from having to share my journey.

Lunch ended and it was time for writing class. It was a small class today, just the instructor, myself and another woman. The journaling prompts were pulled out again and I chose the first one from the jar. It was a thought provoking prompt and we all got busy writing. It was fun to hear the different thoughts as we each read our journaling aloud. It's funny to me how we could all hear the same prompt and all have very different opinions as to where it should go and how the story should end, but that's what makes writing so unique.

We worked on several journaling prompts and then listened as the therapist read from the book, The Song of the Bird, again. I don't like that book very much because it's so New Age, but the therapist likes to use it for some reason.  I tried to weave my faith into this assignment to counter the New Age principals. Hopefully, the therapist will come to know and respect the fact that I'm a devout Christian.

When class was over, I said my goodbyes and headed home. In the car, I realized I was pretty tired. I don't understand how it takes so much out of me every week to just drive to and from class and be at the wellness center for 4 hours. I keep wondering when I'm going to get my strength back.

Through generous donors, the cancer wellness center can offer programs that cater to women going through different stages of healing. I'm so thankful for those people who give so generously so we can reap the benefits. I'm building up quite a portfolio of artwork and my creative writing skills are growing exponentially! Maybe one day, I'll get that book written...

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Forgive me for complaining

I am so tired of waking up with huge, swollen arms! This Lymphedema sucks! Every morning, I have to get up and do manual lymphatic massage on myself just to be able to move my arms. The swelling has gotten so bad that I'm having to buy shirts in a much larger size just so I can get my arms in the sleeves. I don't mean to complain, really I don't, but can't my life just please return to a pre-cancerous state??? Is that too much to ask?

Nobody told me how crappy it would be after having lymph nodes removed. My breast surgeon did elude to the fact that I MIGHT get Lymphedema but she didn't think I would since I was only have 2 lymph nodes removed in my left arm and 4 removed in my right arm. Apparently even having one tiny little lymph node is enough to disrupt the whole lymphatic system and cause Lymphedema. 

It's hard to describe how it feels, but imagine, just underneath your skin, there is an accumulation of fluid. The fluid swells and gets tighter and tighter...so much so, that you feel like your skin is going to pop and split wide open! The swelling impedes movement and is quite painful too. It's not a once in a while thing...when you have it, you have it for good. It doesn't go away. 

My body is already a mess. When I look at myself in the mirror, I wonder how my husband can still love me. I have no breasts. I have huge scars across my chest. I have scars from the drainage tubes they put in after surgery. I have tattoos from the radiation clinic that they used to line me up under the linear accelerator for treatment and also, I have fat, swollen arms. Have you ever seen a Sumo wrestler? That's what I feel like when I look at myself. 

This morning, the swelling was exceptionally worse than usual. When I use my arms a lot during the day or I do any kind of lifting, it exacerbates the Lympedema. It took me about twenty minutes of manual massage to get the lymphatic fluid dispersed throughout my torso so I could put on a shirt. After going through my closet, I finally found one that I could wear. I guess I'll have to donate the shirts that don't have large sleeves to Goodwill and start buying new ones that will accommodate my balloon arms. I do have my Lymphediva sleeves that help compress my arms and aid with the swelling too.

It's so frustrating to have to deal with this physical challenge on a daily basis, but I'm just going to have to accept it and move on. I just needed a chance to rant for a little bit. I'm not normally a negative person. I hope you understand. Surgery doesn't remove all of the challenges, in fact, it creates even more of them. 

I am thankful for the medical advancements that are available now to those of us who've been afflicted with breast cancer. We have so many new and wonderful techniques that can buy us time. Cancer does maim, kill and destroy lives but it's up to us to choose to be thankful to be alive and continue to fight. 

Yes, Lymphedema sucks and yes, I don't like it one little bit, but...it's something I have to live with so I'd better just suck it up and move on. Thank you for allowing me to complain today...it's just been one of those days. 

Debunking the myth - does sugar feed cancer?

Does Sugar Feed Cancer? What a simple question, but in fact...it's not simple at all! There are many cancer patients, myself included, who have believed the myth that sugar feeds cancer cells. So, we decided if we eliminate sugar from our diet, we're being proactive and helping fight against a recurrence of cancer. But our decision is not a wise one and here's why:

Our bodies need sugar, specifically glucose, for energy. Every cell of our bodies, especially the brain, needs glucose to live. The sugar that we need comes from 2 places. One is from the carbohydrates that we eat. When we eat carbohydrates (either complex carbs, like whole grains or simple carbs like syrups), our bodies digests them and breaks them down into glucose for the body to use.

The second source of glucose actually comes from our own body. Our body will make the sugar we need if we don’t get enough from our food. Therefore, even if you cut out all intake of sugar or other forms of carbs, your body will make the sugar you need from fat and protein. This is not the ideal situation for your body, as it can cause your body to go into a stressful state. There is a certain amount of carbohydrate necessary for healthy cell function.

Cancer cells use sugar for energy just like the rest of our cells do. Cancer cells do have a higher metabolism, which is why they take up sugar at a faster rate. But there’s nothing scientifically proven regarding cancer that “feeds” on sugar more than any other cell in our body.

At this point, it has not been shown that eliminating dietary sources of sugar and carbohydrate actually results in slower growth of tumors but, it does result in your body having to work extra hard to make the glucose that it needs to function.

When we digest and absorb sugar from different types of foods, our bodies produce insulin to process the sugar. This is a normal and essential part of metabolizing food. However, if you eat too much sugar or carbohydrates, it results in a large amount of insulin being produced.

Insulin tells our cells to grow. Too much insulin can tell our cells to grow too much. Some people think that too much insulin could cause cancer cells to grow more. There’s not enough research right now to fully understand how insulin and cancer are related, but we know that too much sugar, and too much insulin are not good for our health.

Simply put, sugar does feed cancer. BUT, sugar (glucose) also feeds the rest of your body. For those who are going through treatment, remember that your healthy cells need energy especially during this time. Avoiding sugar completely will not help treatment, but it could leave your healthy cells low on energy. So, should you avoid sugar? According to the medical team at M.D. Anderson, the answer is no. “Your body’s cells use sugar to keep your vital organs functioning,” says Clare McKindley, clinical dietitian at MD Anderson’s Cancer Prevention Center. “But too much daily sugar can cause weight gain. And, unhealthy weight gain and a lack of exercise can increase your cancer risks.”

So, how much sugar is safe to eat? Women should have no more than six teaspoons per day (25 grams), and men should have no more than nine teaspoons per day (37 grams), says the American Heart Association. This equals to about 100 calories for women and 150 for men. If you’re like most Americans, you actually eat more than double that much sugar in a day — about 22 teaspoons. That’s 260 cups or 130 lbs. of sugar each year. Even worse, all that extra sugar breaks down to about 500 calories per day. That’s hundreds of calories with absolutely no nutritional or cancer-fighting benefit.
And, it’s not just sweets that are loaded with sugar. Pasta sauce, salad dressings and canned vegetables also have hidden sugars. Canned and processed foods are some of the biggest offenders.

It's very important to look for hidden sugars in foods. Your first clue that a product is high in sugar is if the word “sugar” is listed as the first ingredient. Beware, though. Some sugary foods don’t include “sugar” on the ingredient list. That’s because sugar is often disguised under different names. Here are some hidden “sugar” words to look out for:
fructose (natural sugar from fruits)
lactose (natural sugar from milk)
sucrose (made from fructose and glucose)
maltose (sugar made from grain)
glucose (simple sugar, product of photosynthesis)
dextrose (form of glucose)

Natural sugars are best. Natural sugars, like molasses, agave nectar, honey and maple syrup, are packed with antioxidants that protect your body from cancer. Even though these sweet options are natural, they still have about the same amount of calories as regular sugar. So, it’s important to stick to the recommended daily serving for sugar.

Avoid artificial sweeteners! Some studies done with laboratory animals have found links between artificial sweeteners and cancer. But, no proof exists that says artificial sweeteners definitely cause cancer. Until more is known, your best bet is to avoid or limit artificial sweeteners.

Bottom line: sugar, when eaten in small amounts, can fit into a balanced diet. And, if you have a sweet tooth, it’s better to get your sugar fix from naturally sweet fruits than processed foods. That way, you’ll satisfy your craving and get more of the nutrients your body needs to fight off diseases like cancer.

Another note to self...

I'm finding that lately I'm making more and more mental notes to myself...what good it does, I do not know, but I make them. I envision my brain loaded down with bright yellow sticky notes and hand scribbled messages to myself. It's getting pretty crowded up there but this note is a major note...one I must find room to squeeze in somewhere! Are you ready for it, here it is...DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES GO TO A HAIR STYLIST YOU'VE NEVER BEEN TO BEFORE...NEVER...EVER...EVER. And ESPECIALLY not before a holiday! Let me tell you why I say this and what happened to me.

I was growing out a cute little pixie cut. My hair is very fine and slow growing. It took almost 8 months to get my hair to the "just below chin level" and it was starting to look kind of "mullet-y." It wasn't quite as bad as Carol Brady's (you remember the Brady Bunch don't you???) but it was close. Soooo I decided it was time to get that fixed and I got on the internet and searched for salons near me. I found one that looked well established and called them up.

When the receptionist answered the phone, I told her I needed a haircut. I told her I didn't know any of the stylists but I needed someone who was good with baby fine hair. She said she had just the person for me...her name was Jill. I asked if Jill had been cutting hair very long and the receptionist said, "oh yes, over 30 years!" Okay then...sounded like a winner, so I went to the salon. Hubby was off work and said he'd go with me. I told him he'd probably rather sit in the car than in the waiting room with all the other women, he said he'd be fine. What a good guy he is!

I checked in at the receptionist's desk and the shampoo girl came to get me. After I was shampooed, I was taken over to meet Jill. Jill was about my age but had salt and pepper hair. Her hair was in a neat pixie. (I always make it a point to check out how my potential stylist wears her hair. If her hair isn't neat and well groomed, then I don't trust her to do mine.) Jill passed the test.

Jill sat me in her chair and asked what I wanted. I told her I was in a dilemma. I was growing out this pixie cut and while I was pleased with the length of my hair now, I didn't want a mullet. She said you have two options, go back to a pixie or have a shorter than chin length blunt cut. Well....I have a very round face so I knew the blunt cut was definitely a no. Back to the pixie it was then.

Jill and I talked the entire time she was cutting my hair. I got to know a lot about her and she got to know a lot about me. When she was done, I felt like we were friends. My hair looked cute and I left the shop happy...but wait! There's more!

I liked my short "do" so much. When I got home, I played with it a lot. I put styling paste in it and spiked it up...it looked cool. I put gel in it and wore it in a wet look...that looked cool too. I rolled it and sprayed it with hairspray for a different look...it was nice. And then, I made a fatal mistake...I decided I wanted to get my hair highlighted so the beautiful white hairs (that I'd seen peeking out around the edges of my face) could just come on in and one day in the future, I'd be completely white headed. I called Jill and set up another appointment. I told her my plan and she said it was do-able.

Once again, I sat in Jill's chair. She asked what my goal was and I told her about letting my whitish/gray hairs come in naturally. She went to the back and mixed up some color and then came back and began to foil my hair. After she got the foils in, she sat me under the dryer for about 40 minutes and then I was shampooed. When she began to dry my hair, I noticed the foils looked very light instead of like the blondish ones I've had in the past, but I didn't say anything. She pulled out her curling iron and began to curl and style my hair and then covered me in a coat of hairspray. She worked on it about 15 minutes before she was pleased. Next, she asked if I liked it. All I could see was the front of my hair and it looked okay so I said yes.

On the way home from the salon, I asked my husband if it looked okay. I told him I didn't even get to see the back. (Usually the stylist will give you a big hand held mirror while you're in the chair so you can see the back of your hair before you leave....but Jill didn't. I began to wonder why.)

When I got home, I went into the bathroom and began to comb through my hair. I didn't like it all poofy like Jill had styled it. I combed all the hairspray out and then got my mirror to look at the back. Let me tell you, I was NOT pleased when I saw it. I had patchy spots of white all throughout the back of my hair. I looked like a leopard! It looked really bad. I began to cry and then...I got MAD. I had just paid this woman $75 to do my hair and I'd also given her a $25 tip! Jill might have been a good hair stylist but coloring/foiling/highlighting hair was NOT HER FORTE'. Now what was I going to do...Easter Sunday is coming! I have to get this fixed and now. I was having a really bad hair day...

So I went to Sally (no, not another hair stylist, but you're close! It's a beauty supply store.) I knew I had to recolor my hair to get rid of the patchy white spots but how was I going to cover up those big white spots and the highlights she'd done all over the top of my head? I knew I could add color but, the highlights had been done by bleaching out my natural color. I also knew (from working in a salon years ago) that if you weren't careful, when you colored over bleached hair, you could end up with GREEN in the places that had been highlighted. I didn't want GREEN hair and I didn't want LEOPARD spotted hair...what to do. So, I jumped on my smartphone and GOOGLED it. I found out that if I put a Neutral Protein Filler on first, it would prepare those highlighted spots to take on the new color. Woohoo. Now I was on to something.

I bought $17 worth of supplies at Sally and headed home. I worked most of the day preparing food for Easter and my hair color supplies sat there on the counter in plain view. I had to do first things first and since we'd been invited to an Easter dinner with one of my children, I needed to get my dishes prepared and ready. I whipped up my famous Broccoli salad and then my "to die for" hashbrown casserole. Next I boiled some eggs...you gotta have deviled eggs on Easter, right? So, I had a cool idea, I'll boil the eggs, then peel them and then dip the shelled eggs into the food coloring...that way, we won't just have the pretty outsides of the eggs that usually is peeled off and thrown away but we'd have colored edible eggs that were filled with my deviled concoction. Pretty nifty, I thought. So, I gathered some little cups and put a different color of dye into each one. I had orange, yellow, blue, green and pink. The colors were so beautiful and I enjoyed sliding each boiled egg into the color baths. After getting the eggs completed. I was tired, but I still needed to address the hair problem.

I gathered my things and told hubby I'd see him in a bit. I went into the bathroom and began by putting the neutral protein filler on my hair. It had to sit for 20 minutes and then, I could start with the coloring process. When the timer rang, I started to mix up my hair color. I gently poured 2 ounces of 20 volume developer into the color mixing bowl and then added 1 ounce of my hair color. (I'd chosen a darker shade than normal and one without reddish tones because I didn't know how it was going to react to the highlighted areas.) I began applying the hair color and as soon as I got my entire head covered with color, I began to freak out!!! My hair started to turn PINK!!! I am NOT KIDDING HERE! It was not a beautiful pink shade like the Easter eggs color bath, but a definite PINK...a deep, rosy PINK! Oh my word! What had I done now! There was nothing I could do. All I could think was, well...if I have pink hair at least I could advertise for breast cancer awareness, but I didn't want PINK hair. So, I decided to wait and see what happened if I left the color on for a while longer.

After 30 minutes, my scalp began to burn! I guess the protein filler and the developer had done a number on my head. I tried to let it stay on the full 45 minutes as recommended but there was no way I could leave it on any longer. I looked in the mirror. Thankfully, the rosy pink hue had vanished and now, my hair was a deep, dark brownish black. At least it wasn't LEOPARD SPOTTED AND AT LEAST IT WASN'T GREEN OR PINK!

I showered and washed the remaining hair dye out. When I finished drying my hair, I was pleasantly surprised. The highlights were gone! The spots were gone! The pink was gone! All that was left was a nice, rich, deep brown color. I could breath a sigh of relief!

So the moral of the story...a $117 dollar story...be sure you have a qualified hair stylist before deciding to color. Always ask for a mirror so you can check out your head before leaving the shop. If you're not happy, you have two choices...go back in and demand the problem be corrected or opt for a do it yourself fix. If you go the do it yourself route, you better know what you're doing otherwise you may end up with pink or green hair or even NO HAIR at all!

Why didn't I go back in and demand my hair be corrected???
1. The shop was closed by the time I found out there was a problem.
2. Jill wasn't working the next day.
3. I had to fix it before Easter! I couldn't go to church with spotty hair and I didn't have a wig!
4. I was angry and wanted the problem fixed immediately so I chanced doing it myself.

The end results

I'm so thankful it turned out okay. It could have been even worse than the beginning. I could have ended up with PINK LEOPARD SPOTTED HAIR!

This is a true story and believe me when I say, this note to self will remain on the very front lobe of my brain for years to come! Maybe one day my kids and grandkids will laugh about all my zany life stories. I hope someone will laugh...it is kinda funny now that I think about it.

When it comes time for lunch tomorrow, I think I'll forego having any of those colored deviled eggs. I'm a little scared of the green and pink ones...and Jill will never know that I didn't love her highlighting job unless we bump into her at church, afterall, she does attend the same church we do!

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

Creative therapy

 I've been struggling lately with getting out of the house and doing something...anything. I've become so comfortable just being here with me, myself and I all day long every day. I can do what I want when I want without any disruption, but I know it's not healthy to isolate myself...so, I decided to make myself do something.

The hospital near me has a Cancer Wellness Center and they offer classes at no cost to breast cancer patients and survivors. My Oncologist told me about it right after I was diagnosed and I was scared to death to walk down the hallway to see where the classes were even held. If my oldest daughter hadn't been with me, I'm sure I would not have gone to see it at all, but she insisted telling me it would be good for me.

Several months passed after that first visit to the wellness center and she kept asking me if I'd gone to any classes yet. I had to respond that I hadn't. She kept prodding me, telling me to try it but I was afraid to go alone to a place where I knew no one. I didn't want to go, but I promised her I'd go at least once and so I did.

My first visit was okay. There weren't a lot of people there. I was very nervous and tried to fit in as best I could. The ladies were nice but not overly friendly. It was apparent they had known each other for some time and had their own little cliques. I wondered if I'd ever fit in. When I left that first day, I didn't think I would be back. I had kept my promise and that was all I felt I needed to do.

Since the beginning of the year, I'd promised myself that I'd be brave...that I'd try something new. I really needed to be around other people and the only people I knew here were medical staff...I didn't want to be around them unless I had to be!

Last night, I sent my daughter a text and told her I needed a cheerleader...I needed her to encourage me to go to the wellness center. She responded with several texts filled with verses of Scripture that reminded me to be brave and courageous. I went to bed thinking I'd give it a try if I felt good enough in the morning.

This morning, after waking up from one of the best night's sleep I'd had in months, I decided to go to the center. Today was art therapy day and afterwards, there was a creative writing class. I loved both of those things so I thought it would be a good day for me to venture out.

I ate breakfast and then checked the clock. It was a little before 8.  I hurried to get a shower and then got dressed and put on a fresh coat of makeup. I looked in the mirror and started to feel shaky. I wasn't feeling very brave...but wait! I had my lions! I'd collected a small brood of lions since my diagnosis. Friends had sent them to me to remind me to be brave while going through treatment. They had been my constant companions as I'd worked through radiation treatments for 7 weeks, I knew they could help me now too.

I went into the bedroom and gathered them up in my arms. "Come on guys," I said, as I whisked them into the front seat of my car. I glanced at the clock, it was almost 9:30 a.m. Traffic was a little heavier than normal but I pressed on, determined not to be late.

When I arrived at the hospital, the parking lot was extremely full. I parked in the first space available and walked about a block to the front door of the wellness center. I took the elevator up and took a deep breath as I reached my floor. The door opened and I made a b-line for the bathroom, nerves, I guess. After I composed myself, I went down the long corridor to a set of glass doors that led to the classrooms.

I entered the classroom and NO ONE was there! I started to freak out but then noticed it was not quite 10 a.m. ...maybe I was just early and others would come soon. I noticed that the room was fairly dark, so I began opening the blinds to let in the morning light...that was much better, I thought to myself and sat down at a round table.

Gayle, the art therapist

Promptly at 10 a.m. the art therapist came into the room. She introduced herself to me again. Her name was Gayle and she remembered me from my very first visit...I was surprised! She started pulling out supplies for the class and I volunteered to help. We sat up a table and got everything ready as other ladies came into the room. Each one told me her name and a little about herself.

We got started with our project and soon, I was immersed in what I was doing. I totally forgot about what was going on around me. I was so busy making my mosaic and getting it just the way I wanted it. It was so nice not to have to think about anything other than what I was doing at that very moment.

Time went by so quickly and soon it was noon, time for lunch. I went downstairs to the new cafe and ordered a sandwich. It was so beautiful outside. I chose to sit in the sunshine. There was a small picnic area set up in between buildings and it looked so inviting.

When lunch was over, I headed back up to class. The creative writing class was a very small group. I guess not many ladies enjoy writing. I was kind of glad because I prefer to be in a small group. Since this was my first writing class at the center, I didn't know what to expect. The art therapist pulled out a mason jar filled with slips of paper and asked me to pick one. As I read it, I saw that it had a journaling prompt on it. Each of us would now take the prompt and write from it.

Gayle gave us a certain amount of time to complete our assignment. When we were done, she asked if anyone wanted to read portions of their work. When she asked me, I was nervous, but agreed to read my writings. Everyone in the class was amazed. They asked me to read my work again. I was shaky and wondered why they wanted to hear my work read aloud once again. After reading, they all told me I had wonderful talent and that I should write professionally. I explained that this was a lifelong dream but I'd never pursued it. I felt honored to hear their words of praise.

I was thankful I'd made myself go to the classes. It was very cathartic and I could actually feel the stress leaving my body. It was also nice to be around other people. I didn't realize how much I'd missed it.

Next week will be easier since I know some of the ladies. I'm actually looking forward to the classes and can't wait to see what type of things we'll do.

I felt a little silly writing about this topic today, but I wanted to share my vulnerability with you. I don't just struggle with my physical appearance, I struggle emotionally too. Breast cancer can really do a number on your self esteem. I know it has on mine, but I'm fighting hard to get it back to a new normal.

Working on our mosaics

I'm so thankful to have my own personal cheering section! My daughters know me so well and they can tell when I'm fearful. Grownups aren't supposed to be afraid of little things like going out in public, are they? I was never afraid before surgery so I don't know why I am now. Hopefully things will get better with time. I did actually have a lot of fun today and I know that it was really good medicine.


© bonnie annis all rights reserved

The nutritionist says...

Yesterday was my visit to the cancer wellness center to meet with the nutritionist. Last week, when I visited Dr. Feinstein, he suggested I meet with a nutritionist. I'm thankful the wellness center offers that service free of charge to breast cancer survivors.

I had no idea what to expect when I walked into her office. A very petite 30 something woman sat before me. She greeted me cordially and we began to talk a little about my experience with cancer. She listened intently as I described my stage, treatment, and current situation. Now it was time to get down to the nitty gritty...

"Why are you here, exactly?," she said. "Well, my oncologist thought it would be a good idea since I'm taking a natural approach to staying healthy instead of taking Tamoxifen, Arimidex or any of those other anti-hormone therapies." "Okay, so let's talk about your diet," she said. So I proceeded to give her a break down of what I usually eat for each meal. She looked shocked when I finished. "Wow, you eat really well! You are doing exactly what you should be doing." I wanted to jump up and down and say, "I KNOW! I KNOW!" but I restrained myself.

She began printing off documents from her computer and turned to me saying, "so, what would you say your goal is right now?" The first thing that came to mind was to say, "just to stay alive" so that's what I said. "That's a good goal!," she said. I also told her I'd like to lose some weight. I explained how frustrated I was at having a super slow metabolism. Ellen, the nutritionist, looked confused. "How do you know you have a slow metabolism?" I told her that no matter what I did or didn't eat, I could never lose a pound. Even when I added lots of exercise, nothing helped. When I told her about having had my thyroid gland removed in 2005, she was able to understand a little better and agreed with me.

"Why don't we just focus on making healthy eating choices and not focus on losing weight?," she said, "if you continue to eat lots of fresh fruits and vegetables like you've been doing and increase your activity, I'm pretty sure the weight loss will follow."

Ellen

Ellen handed me a stack of printouts. There was one was on Organic foods and cancer, another was on plant based diets and phytochemicals, and the last one was a 1600 calorie menu planner with many pages of diet information. I told Ellen that I don't think I ever ate 1600 calories in a day. My diet was usually around 1200. She explained that she'd based that calorie count on several factors including my BMR (basal metabolic rate.)

I sat there looking over the papers and happened to glance down at her shoes. (She had on some really cool shoes!) I wanted to say something about them but thought it might seem a little weird, but then...I couldn't help it! "Those are the coolest shoes!," I said. She glanced down at her feet and then a big smile came across her face. "Thank you! You just made my day!" I asked where she'd purchased them and she told me. I love quirky, different looking shoes. Hers were an olive drab colored canvas similar to the Converse high tops I wore in high school but these had a unique fold down tongue and side flaps. As we were talking about the shoes, a guy came walking into her office and looked directly at me said, "it's time for your drum lesson." Ummmm....you can't imagine the shocked look on my face. I thought he was kidding but it turns out he wasn't!

Ellen and I were finished and as I told her thank you, the guy was grabbed hold of my hand and pulled me gently down the hallway. I looked back at Ellen with a "help me???" look on my face. She just smiled and sat down to do some paperwork.

Rounding the corner, the guy took me into a room filled with leather chairs and sofas. He motioned for me to have a seat and being the compliant person that I am, I sat down. He handed me a drum...but not your typical drum, it was an African drum. He took one and placed it between his thighs and asked me to do the same...which I did. Can I tell you, I was feeling really weird and really uncomfortable but then, he began to show me the various drum strokes to play the Djembe (the African drum made of wood shaped like a huge challis with a head made of goatskin stretched over the top of it.) I watched in amazement as he began to stroke the drum. The sounds resonated throughout the room and began to get louder as he continued playing. "Now you try it," he said.

I took my drum and followed along as he taught me the 3 types of strokes used to play this instrument. The first stroke was a bass stroke where the whole hand was used to hit the surface of the drum firmly. The second stroke involved only the meaty part of your hand, just below your fingers, and this stroke was made squarely along the outer rim of the drum. This stroke was called the tone stroke. The last stroke involved the meaty part of the palm and the fingers, again along the outer edge of the drum and it was called the slap stroke. As I practiced each stroke, I was beginning to loosen up and have fun!

The instructor told me to close my eyes and practice the strokes while saying "pepperoni and spaghetti." He said the words gave the proper cadence to the strokes he was teaching me. I felt silly sitting there in a room alone with a man I'd never met before with a big wooden African drum between my legs, eyes closed saying "pepperoni and spaghetti...PEP per oni and SPA ghetti, PEP per ONI and spa GHETTI"  As he changed up the emphasis on the words, he changed the type of stroke we played on the drum.

We sat there playing our drums for about an hour. As the beat became more natural, I was transported into a dusty, poverty stricken land surrounded by tattered children. I could just imagine all of us sitting there underneath the Baobab trees gathered into a loose circle as the elders led us in some sort of ceremony with drums beating and shirtless women dancing. It was the weirdest thing ever, just like I had stepped into a National Geographic documentary on African music.

The rhythmic drumming was hypnotizing, but not in a bad way. It was very peaceful and as I kept drumming, the instructor began to tell me a little of the drum therapy program here at the wellness center. He explained that the drumming was a wonderful stress reliever and something about Oncolytic Immunotherapies and T cell production. I didn't really listen because I was "into" my drumming. I felt connected with the native peoples through their music.

When it was time for the class to be over, I didn't want to leave. Isn't that funny? At first, I had felt totally out of place and strange about even picking up the drum and holding it. The pepperoni and spaghetti part made me want to burst out laughing but now, it all came together. 

The cancer wellness center at Piedmont Hospital is a wonderful resource. They offer free programs to help cancer survivors thrive. There are cooking classes, art therapy classes, writing classes, drumming, massage, yoga, group therapy, and other programs offered weekly. Each of these programs help those of us who continue to struggle to find our place in the world feel a little more grounded. The programs are set to reach a wide range of women and some of them participate in every class offered. I like to choose ones that include things I enjoy already like the art and writing classes. 

It's nice to know the doctors aren't only concerned with helping us through the immediate crisis of cancer but also want to help us be successful in returning to our daily lives. It's a huge struggle for many of us who have experienced devastating physical changes. The cancer wellness center is a wonderful place for overcoming the emotional pain that cancer inflicts upon its victims. 

Nutrition plan, check. African drumming, check. What's next you say? Well, you'll just have to wait and see. I do know that I'm not just going to sit around on my duff and rot. I've got a whole lot of living left to do! 

 “The best thing for being sad," replied Merlin, beginning to puff and blow, "is to learn something. That's the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then — to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. Look what a lot of things there are to learn.” ~ T.H. White

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