Where's the manual?

The words – "You have cancer" – can really feel like a sucker punch to the gut. I heard those words just last year and I remember I cried for hours afterward. Cancer took my breasts, my peace of mind, and my calm spirit. I was devastated but I kept moving forward, because really, what choice did I have?

I finished 28 rounds of radiation therapy and although it was rough, tiring, scary and overwhelming, I made it through. I'm now officially a cancer survivor. Yippee! But that feeling of joy never hit me like I thought it would. What was wrong with me? Why didn't I feel a great victory? After talking to other survivors, I found out nothing was wrong with me. The "now what?" side of cancer had just hit me and I didn't know what to do. So I did the only thing that came to mind at the time – I cried. My tears didn't really solve anything but they gave me a huge emotional release that I desperately needed.

So where is the manual for living life after cancer? Where is the pamphlet on "what to expect now"? Why didn't any of the doctors tell me about this part of it? Wasn't someone supposed to offer helpful information? At first, I was seeing my breast surgeon, radiation oncologist and regular oncologist every week and then it shifted to every three months. But even during that time, not a single one of the doctors asked me how I was doing emotionally. Not a single one wanted to know how I was handling things. When I completed radiation therapy, I got a certificate of completion and was sent on my merry way. What's up with that?

About a month later, the emotions of everything came crashing down. I felt like I had literally stared death in the face and that was something I was not prepared for. Then I began to have survivor's guilt. There were so many of my friends who had died of cancer and others were Stage 4, fighting for their lives. Why was I lucky enough to have survived? What do I do with my life now that I have been given a second chance? Everything suddenly became overwhelming. So I started digging. The more I read, the more I realized that my feelings were normal. All those cancer books I'd read talked about learning to accept your "new normal." But the thing was, I didn't want a "new normal." I wanted my old normal. Was that too much to ask for?

It took a long time to find out what my "new normal" was and to officially accept it. Sometimes I still don't want to though. I am only 17 months out from my initial diagnosis. But it seems that cancer is still hot on my heels. When will cancer officially crash into a brick wall and stop tailing me? I walk fast and it speeds up. I run and it still keeps pace. It hasn’t caught me yet and I hope it never does. But there's always the feeling that it just might...In the meantime, I keep working on learning to live in my "new normal."

From one cancer survivor to the next, things truly do get better. It's harder for some than others, but you do move forward. Acceptance is the key. Mourning your old self is a fine way to start. Allow yourself that. I did not initially. I am in the process of accepting now and it is a good place to be. You don’t have to forget, but you do need to move forward. 

There's no official manual out there for learning to live life after cancer but other survivors have a great deal of information and most of them are eager to share. I've found by reading other survivors' blogs that I get real, helpful, and unbiased information. It would be great if someone would compile all of those helpful hints and tips into an after cancer care type manual but it would be very hard to do it efficiently since every case of cancer is so different. It would be even better if the medical doctors would offer some type of counseling or advise on what to expect and how to deal with life after treatment. Instead of just kicking us out of the nest to fly on our own, it would be great if they'd help teach us to fly. 

The number one thing I would advise anyone going through a cancer struggle to do would be to cling to hope. Without hope, we have nothing. Each person has to figure out how to get through cancer in a way that works best for them. My saving grace has been my faith in God. I know even when things seem to be their darkest that He's never left me alone in this. On days when I feel I have no strength at all to get through the day, He provides the strength to carry me through and for that I am extremely grateful. 

Cancer sucks and that's the truth, but keeping a positive attitude, holding onto faith and never giving up hope can help get you through it. 

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

What do you say to a dying person?

Heather and her husband, Joe

I don't know how to process this other than to just start thinking out loud, so hopefully you'll bear with me as I put my thoughts down in the best way I know how...it's been a week since I made a whirlwind, unplanned trip. My sweet son in law, Caleb, was my escort. He called last week and asked if I would like to come out to Texas and visit with his wife (my daughter), Erin, and the grandchildren. He said he'd be more than happy to drive up to Georgia to get me. At first I was shocked and couldn't believe what I was hearing...he was going to drive from Texas to Georgia to get me and then take me back home again...all in the span of one week...that's insane! But he wanted to do it. His heart was so filled with love that it was overflowing and he wanted to give of his time...to me. So in an instant, I accepted the invitation and immediately  began packing for the trip.

On the way to Texas, We planned to stop and visit our friend, Heather. I've written about her recently in several other blog posts. She is a young mother of 4 and is fighting for her life. She's dying of cancer. Originally, she was diagnosed with breast cancer about 4 1/2 years ago. The cancer has metastasized and moved into her brain, her liver, and other areas of her body. To put it bluntly, she's in really bad shape. She's been moved into the palliative care section of a large cancer hospital in Texas. She'd been moved there to receive the very best cancer treatment available.

When my son in law arrived late that night, he was so tired. My heart hurt for him. He'd driven all day to get here. It was 802 miles and I knew he was exhausted. I encouraged him to go to bed early and he did, but those few hours of sleep wouldn't be enough to rejuvenate him fully.

We started out on our journey to Texas in the wee hours of the next morning. It was dark, quiet, and chilly. We drove for several hours before the sun came up and were so thankful when it did. Traffic was light and we made good time, but the miles stretched on and on. Our plan was to stop at the hospital and visit Heather before going on my daughter's home.

When we arrived at the hospital, I was overwhelmed. This hospital was ginormous! I don't know how many floors or buildings it had but it seemed the hospital took up several city blocks. We walked and walked to find the elevators. Once inside the hospital, we traveled through a maze of hallways and floors to find Heather's room. When we finally reached it, we stood outside her door with trepidation in our hearts.

A sign on the door read "all visitors must wash their hands before entering." We turned to see a little sink and some hand soap just to the left. Both Caleb and I washed and dried our hands before gingerly knocking on the door.

An older woman greeted us and introduced herself as Heather's mother. A few seconds later, an elderly gentleman appeared and said he was Heather's grandfather. We said our hellos, shook hands, and watched as Heather's mom gently shook Heather's arm to wake her. The room was dimly lit but the curtains were open and sunlight streamed through illuminating Heather's face. Everything was silent except for the sound of the machine pumping pain medication into Heather's arm. Her relatives said they were going to leave for a little while and give us some privacy.

After they left, Caleb and I stood on either side of the bed just watching Heather for a few minutes. We didn't quite know what to say or do. Heather was still swollen and very jaundiced. She looked so sick and so weak.

Caleb was the first to speak and greeted her with fondness. Since Heather and I had never met in person, He introduced me to her. She thanked me for writing her over the past few months and for the knitted hats and shawl I'd made for her. We made small talk for a few minutes and then she asked me to hand her the remote control for the bed. She pressed the button to raise her head up so she could see better. I was surprised she felt well enough to do that.

We continued to talk and then, Heather cut to the chase. She asked us some really hard questions. She wanted to know why she'd been brought to M. D. Anderson. She said she felt like she'd just been brought there to die. She didn't want to be there. She wanted to be home. She was adamant about her feelings and very coherent in her thoughts. She told us the doctors had said if she went home, she'd have to have a hospital bed and she told us she didn't understand why...said she didn't want one and didn't think it would fit in the house anyway. We didn't know how to respond, so we just listened.

I chose my words carefully as I spoke to her. I knew she wanted answers to her questions but I didn't feel it was my place to give them. I could empathize with her because I too had been diagnosed with breast cancer. I tried to put myself in her place and thought about how I'd feel if I were going through the things she was going through right now. Yes, the doctors and medical staff knew she was entering the last stages of her illness and yes, more than likely, she'd been brought there to die but I couldn't tell her that. All I could tell her was that her family loved her and wanted her to get the best care possible. That's why they'd allowed her to be moved to the palliative care unit. (Palliative care focuses on symptoms such as pain, shortness of breath, fatigue, constipation, nausea, loss of appetite, difficulty sleeping and depression. It also helps you gain the strength to carry on with daily life. It improves your ability to tolerate medical treatments. And it helps you have more control over your care by improving your understanding of your choices for treatment. Palliative care helps to make the patient comfortable and that was just what Heather needed.)

While Heather was focused on negative things, we tried to turn them into positives but how do you do that when someone is expressing such anger over dying? There were no words to say. All we could do was just be there...just show up...just give our love and support. We couldn't fix it or make it better and that wasn't what we were supposed to do. We had just come as friends to show we cared.

We were shocked at her anger but were glad she felt she had the freedom to express it. We couldn't judge her for that, after all...who's to say we wouldn't feel the same way if we were in her shoes...if we knew our time was short, wouldn't we be angry?! As I listened to Heather speak, I noticed her words were slow and deliberate. She was weak and tired. Her body was wearing out but she was determined to share her heart. I felt so sorry for her and wanted to comfort her but she didn't want that...didn't need that, she just wanted to have her voice heard, so we continued to listen as she talked about what she did and did not want. The more I heard, the more I realized she was in the 2nd stage of grief - ANGER. I'd studied the five stages of grief many years ago and had witnessed various stages of it throughout my time as a lay counselor. My heart went out to Heather as she continued to talk.

Heather looked so uncomfortable as she lay there in the hospital bed. I asked if the doctors were being able to manage her pain and she told me they weren't. She was hurting A LOT. As soon as she said that, she asked me to hand her the call button and she rang for the nurse. When the nurse answered, Heather told her she need pain medication immediately.

The nurse came and administered Dilaudid and  Hydromorphone, two extremely strong opiates used for severe pain management. It took a few minutes for the meds to kick in and for Heather to slowly begin to doze off.

Other friends arrived and we felt it was time for us to leave. We hadn't done anything to really help Heather other than to listen to her as she talked. We realized as we walked down the corridor toward the elevator that sometimes, all we're supposed to do is show up and that's just what we did. We were there. Heather knew we cared and that we loved her.

What do you say to a dying person? With an ill person, you can say "I hope you feel better soon," or "Is there anything I do to make you more comfortable?" or things like that. With a terminally ill person, the only thing I could think of to say is "I'm praying for you." Offering words of love and encouragement seemed so trite but necessary.

On the ride through Houston toward my daughter's house, I was quiet. I was trying to make sense of everything. It was hard to understand why God would allow such a young woman to die when she'd barely experienced life. Why had she been given a death sentence and why had I been blessed to receive life? We both had breast cancer...I didn't have the answers. I'm not God and I don't know why He has allowed this hard into her life. I am thankful that Heather knows Him. She told me she did and that gives me hope that she will have faith to trust Him even in the very difficult days ahead.

I couldn't help but think of Heather that evening as I went to sleep. I prayed for her and asked God to comfort her and to ease her pain. I also prayed for her husband and her children asking God to give them the strength to face their uncertain future. I know He will, but it will be extremely challenging for all of them.

It's been a week since I was in Texas. I'm back home now and every day I expect to get the phone call that Heather's gone home to be with Jesus. Since my return, she's been moved to another hospital into hospice care. Her family is staying in a hotel nearby so they can be close to her.

Heather's story is just one of the millions of women with breast cancer and I'm sure hers is similar to many of them. I'd be lying if I didn't tell you how scared I was as I stood beside her bed last week. All I could think was will that be me one day? I felt deep sadness as I watched her resting. Her skin a dull yellow color from the effects of a liver barely working, her smooth, round head lacking the lovely locks that once lived there, her swollen body curled underneath the sheets just wasting away, and the IVs providing medication to help her...all signs that cancer was winning.

Maybe I didn't do a good job of ministering love to her that day, but I sure hope I did. I tried. I did the best I could, but I really just didn't know what to say. All I could do was show up and that's what I did. I hope she knows I cared and I hope she knows I'll never forget her. God bless her heart. I take comfort in knowing when she gets to glory she'll have a completely healed and restored body...a new body that won't ever suffer any pain ever again and she will forever be in the presence of Jesus. That's what will allow me to be okay and get through this. It's so hard to watch one more woman succumb to the devastation of cancer. Oh how I wish we could find a cure. Maybe one day....

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

Sometimes the hard is too hard

Today I had the honor and privilege of listening to my oldest daughter, Erin, share her heart with me. Yesterday, she'd had the opportunity to go and visit a very sick friend, Heather. Heather is dying from breast cancer that's metastasized into her brain and liver. I knew before Erin even began talking that this was going to be a difficult conversation to have with her. I know her heart, you see,...it's so tender and loving and kind.

"She was so yellow, Mama," she said. I knew what that meant...Heather was jaundiced. Her liver had completely shut down and her kidneys weren't functioning well. I've witnessed this phenomenon before in another dear friend as she was on her death bed. It's a shocking thing to see, especially when the entire body turns yellow and the whites of the eyes turn a deep, golden yellow too. It looks so unnatural and scary...alien-like. I felt so badly for my daughter. Sometimes the hard is too hard.

Isn't it only natural for mothers to want to shield their children from the hard, hurtful things in life? I wish she wasn't having to go through this, but I knew it was necessary. She'd wanted to go to the hospital to say goodbye to her sweet friend. She needed to be there. I didn't want her to witness the very ugly side of cancer, but she's strong, this daughter of mine. Underneath that tough exterior, though, that carries her through the hardest of challenges, she's got a heart of gold. She's loving and merciful, tender and caring. Her friends love her because she loves them so well and is always so giving of herself. She makes me proud.

And life isn't fair. We both wanted to scream this at the top of our lungs and we're wondering why...why would God allow such a terrible thing to happen to such a young woman...a woman with 4 little ones who love and depend on her...a husband who'll be lost without her, who hasn't even had time to think about grieving over the fact that soon she'll be gone because he's been so busy...busy trying to hold things together, trying to be the glue that makes the things that are important cohesive.

My heart broke for Heather, the young mother, who lay dying in a cold, sterile, hospital bed. This young woman all yellow and swollen and her body wracked with pain. This sweet friend that my daughter loved and wanted to spend more time with but the pain medication kept her doped up and groggy. So she mostly slept while Erin was there visiting. Numbed to the reality that soon she'll be no more...

Tears streamed down my face as Erin told me how she'd felt led to grab a bottle of lotion on the way out the door to see Heather that morning. She knows God speaks to us in a still, small voice. He was preparing her for something bigger and she obeyed. She knows how important the gift of touch is to someone who's in pain. I listened as she told me about massaging Heather's back for her and how, as she gently rubbed for hours, she silently prayed. That's my girl...a heart of gold. And then, when Heather's Mom came back into the room, she commented on how Heather looked so much better, not as yellow, and Erin was glad the massage had helped. She was glad she'd listened to the voice of God and had picked up that lotion. He had a plan and Erin had been His instrument.

Our conversation continued and I listened between the words to hear Erin's heart...a hurting heart. She knows what's coming and knows it's going to be devastating. And this reality of cancer hits too close to home, I knew what she was thinking...my Mom has cancer...this could be her one day...While in the hospital room keeping watch at her friend's bedside, Erin's thoughts are tangled. Her own little ones are home with their Daddy so she could come and be with her friend. She probably wonders if he's fixed them lunch yet and whether the smallest made it down for his nap on time and then she thinks about Heather's little ones who'll soon lose their Mommy and it's overwhelming...sometimes the hard is too hard.

But even in the midst of the hard, God gives His grace. He provides a way for us to be strong and hold on. He reminds us that we can do ALL things through Him because we don't have to rely on our own strength, we have Him to cling to and He provides. He knows the needs. He sees everything and even when it seems like life is so unfair and unjust and cruel, He always shows up...just in the nick of time. He's there with us. He never leaves us alone or forsaken.

Suffering is such a vital part of life. It teaches us things we can never learn without it. It teaches us to have compassion and patience. It teaches us to understand and let go of the things that don't matter. Suffering is a great teaching tool that God uses in our lives but most people don't see it that way.

"The doctors have said two weeks...two weeks is all the time she's got left," Erin said. But we both know they're only guessing, they aren't God. That time frame is just a reminder that Heather's time here is so very short, but then again, none of us are promised tomorrow.

The visit was over and it was time to say goodbye. Erin knew it was going to be a hard thing to say her final goodbye to her friend but she did it in the most beautiful way...she told Heather she loved her and was so thankful they'd become friends and then she prayed over her. Heather may or may not have heard all the words Erin said but I know she felt Erin's heart.

Yes, sometimes the hard is too hard, but God always sees us through it. He gives strength when we need it most and He orchestrates everything according to His plan. And when we look at life that way, we can accept and even welcome the hard that comes because we know He is all sufficient and He is the rock we can cling to when life seems too hard to bear.

Please, won't you say a prayer for Heather as she prepares to go home to heaven? Pray that God will allow her journey to be swift and free from pain. Pray for her husband as he prepares to face the reality that his wife will soon be gone. Pray for God to give him strength to face the difficult days ahead. Pray for grace as he walks through his own hard dealing with the overwhelming grief that will come. Pray for the little ones and for God to hold them close as they come to understand the finality of death. Pray for the community to surround all of them with love and kindness in the days ahead and for God's provision for all of their needs, financial, emotional and spiritual. And one last request, would you say a special prayer for my daughter, Erin, that God would continue to use her to minister His love to others who are hurting but that He'd also protect her heart as she walks through her own hard of learning to lose a friend graciously?

Thank you so much. I know you'll lift up these needs as God places them on your heart. Sometimes the hard is too hard but we must always have hope. May the God of all comfort be everything you need as you travel your own hard and may you never forget His promise to never leave us to face the hard alone.

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

Oh no...not, another one

"Her body is shutting down, the doctors said." I could hardly believe it as my daughter softly spoke  those words into the phone. We'd been expecting it, but the words weren't easy to hear. As they sunk in to my heart, everything inside me wanted to cry out....NOOOOOOOO! NOT ANOTHER ONE. How many more young mothers would cancer steal from their families? And then I thought about myself. I was old. My children were grown and yet, the sting didn't hurt any less. Cancer's inevitable reality was getting too close for comfort. It was sneaking up on me. I was just 16 months into my survivorship.

For months, my oldest daughter has been loving on and ministering to this young mother and her family. (I won't share her name to protect her privacy.) There have been good days and bad days. On the good days, there's been laughter and joy. On the bad days, there's been silence and suffering. It's been a challenging time. A time for friends to rally and show their love. Hard lessons have been learned and grace has been extended. It's been a community effort. It really does take a village...

Although everyone knew this day would come, no one expected it to come so suddenly, but God works in mysterious ways. His timing is not our timing. He had planned and orchestrated every event to work into His plan perfectly. Who are we to question?

The family has gathered at their loved one's bedside. What do you say at a time like this? How do you comfort them? What can you do? Words seem so meaningless and why waste energy saying things that will never be remembered? Isn't love more important? Just being there...that's what really matters. Love...just love.

My heart is broken knowing this young mother will soon slip out of this world into eternity, but I am so thankful she knows the Lord as her Savior. She's struggled so much and fought a good fight. At least when she gets to glory, she won't have any more pain and her body will be completely healed. It seems almost trite to say that, but it's the truth.

I am grieved for her mother. How do you sit beside the bed of the precious one you carried inside your body for 9 months...your beloved child, and watch silently as her organs begin to shut down? How do you stay there and watch those labored breaths? Oh the pain and agony that mother must feel as her daughter slowly wastes away. I can't begin to imagine...

And her husband...how does he say goodbye to the love of his life? He's been beside her through all the cancer treatments, the medical tests, the hair loss, the sickness and fatigue. Does he find comfort in knowing it's almost over or does he beg for more time with her?

Then there are the little ones...the four babes who'll lose their Mommy. How will life look for them in the future? Will they remember her when they're older? So many questions, so little time...and we don't have the answers, but there is One who does. And He's the One who holds our lives in the palm of His hand...Jesus.

Life is so short. We're only here for a few brief moments and then we're gone. May every moment of every day you have left on this earth be one you hold precious. Never take any of them for granted because in a twinkling...in the blink of an eye...they'll be gone.

“That though the hard might come and our hearts be broken, that brokenness isn’t bad. The tears are evidence of our love for one another. They did not stop that day, and they will not stop in the days to come. But tears are a gift, not something to withhold or bottle up—they are the essence of the best of life.” ~ Kara Tippetts from her book, The Hardest Peace

.© bonnie annis all rights reserved

Time to start living again

Every day I hear of another...sister, mother, wife, friend who's been diagnosed with breast cancer or one who's at the point of death. Will the number of breast cancer cases ever end? Will they ever find a cure? Will they ever find the cause? It's so frustrating because it seems it's more prevalent now than it ever has been before. And hearing of these new cases or these at the point of death continually reminds me that the fear of recurrence is lurking in the shadows. No matter how hard I try to keep those thoughts at bay, they're there...whispering to my subconscious mind.

Daily, I do battle. When I get up in the morning, I thank God that I was able to open my eyes and I thank Him for one more day...just one more day. I don't take my days for granted any longer, but oh boy...I surely used to. I never gave a thought to waking up, I just always assumed I would...but that was before cancer.

One of my daughters spoke some truth into my life yesterday. She told me it was time to start living again. Those words pounded hard into my heart. Time. to. start. living. again. They made me realize...when did I give up? When did I stop living? The more I thought about it, the more I realized I accepted the death sentence that was handed to me over a year ago. That fateful day in June, when I heard those three dreaded words over the phone - YOU HAVE CANCER....YOU. It was not someone else, it was me. I was the one who had cancer. ME. And that day, a little piece of my heart died.

I continued to let her words sink into my spirit. It's time to start living again. But how do I let go of the fear that continues to haunt me, to comfort me? Gosh, I can't believe I even said that...comfort me??? In some wickedly strange way, knowing I have, NO HAD, cancer has given me a reason to not do many of the things I used to do in the past. Was I using it as an excuse to not do things I used to enjoy? This was going to take some time to pour over. Surely, I wasn't doing this...NOT ME, NOT POLLYANA BONNIE...THE ONE WHO ALWAYS LOOKS AT THINGS WITH ROSE COLORED GLASSES... oh, but I was...

My social life has been non-existent since cancer. I've become AGORAPHOBIC. I've had a horrible fear of being out in public, away from the safety of my home...the familiar things, the comfortable things. It's been so much easier to stay holed up in my house like a modern day hermit. I haven't needed anyone but ME, MYSELF, AND I. I've found security in my routines...my daily routines and when those routines are disrupted, I find myself feeling scattered and fearful. Why am I letting CANCER have this power over me???

5 YEARS. 5.YEARS.  The standard life expectancy given to patients by oncologists when they're diagnosed with breast cancer. I'm 19 months into my 5 year period. I didn't even realize how that number has stuck in my mind...like a jail sentence. You have 5 years. 5. 5 years on death row...But it's time to start living again.

You know what they say...out of the mouth of babes. The daughter who spoke this truth into my life is my oldest daughter, Erin. She's a godly woman. I'm so proud of her. She's been such a wonderful source of support and encouragement to me since I was diagnosed. Daily, she calls to check up on me. She isn't afraid to speak truth to me even when I don't want to hear it and I'm thankful for that.

I've been thinking a lot about the words she shared with me...it's time to start living again. But where do I begin? How do I bring myself to the point of being able to step out and be brave? It's so hard to admit that I'm struggling. I don't want people to know that about me. It makes me vulnerable but see, that's another part of cancer. It demeans. It decimates. It destroys. It's the gift that keeps on giving.

I know I need to rise above. I know I need to walk in faith. I have a little sign in my office that reminds me I'm braver than I believe, stronger than I seem, and smarter than I think. It's a quote from Christopher Robin to Winnie the Pooh. It's so easy for people to give you those pat answers but this is something I've got to figure out myself. Don't judge me. You're probably thinking, just do it, but that's easier said than done. No one can truly understand the physical, emotional and spiritual effects cancer has on a person. Each one of us have to make our own way through it. Some people find that cancer support groups help, but I have to fight my own demons. I have to work my way through it and I know I will.

Yes, it's time to start living again and yes, I'm working on it. All I can do it take one day at a time and make little baby steps of progress. Realizing the words she spoke to me were true is the first of many steps to come. I don't want to stay in the land of the dead, the cursed, the sentenced to die. I want to rejoin the land of the living.

Another of my daughters watches a TV show called the "Walking Dead." It's a show about the Apocalypse and Zombies. I watched it with her once but wasn't impressed. You can only take so much of those gory looking creatures with skin hanging off their bones. How appropriate the title is for the show, the "Walking Dead." I don't want to be one of them and in order to keep from staying there, I have to figure out a way to climb out of this pit I'm in...It's time to start living again...

Next month I go see a new oncologist. I'm going to be open and honest with him. I'm going to admit I have a problem. I'm going to talk to him about my depression and agoraphobia. I'm going to ask him for help and hope he'll set me on the right track and help me find my way to the land of the living once again.

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

A second letter to cancer

Me in Gerri's jacket

Dear Cancer,
This is my second letter to you. I never thought I'd be writing one again so soon, but here I am again. I don't even know why I'm writing you. You're supposedly gone and good riddance! Dr. S cut you out of my body over a year ago, so why am I still dealing with side effects from your presence?

Early this morning, I had to call my doctor's office. Fluid has built up again in my chest. This time, it's concentrated on the right side instead of like last time when it was all in the center of my chest. I asked her if she wanted me to come back into the office so she could drain the fluid off again. I didn't really want to have to go through all that again, but I was willing to do it if it was necessary. Dr. S said sometimes, it can take 2-3 weeks for the fluid to dissipate. I told her it was really uncomfortable and it hurt when anything, even clothing, touched that side of my body. She told me to wait a few more days and if it's not better, to come in next week. When I touch my chest, I can see a big pocket of fluid jiggling near the space where my right breast used to be.

Did you know the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure is next weekend? I've signed up and I plan on walking across that finish line with pride. I was supposed to walk last year but that was too soon after my first surgery (thanks to you) and I couldn't. People donated money for me and I let them down. I didn't feel good about that at all but what could I do? This year will be a different story. Even if the fluid remains, I'm going! We've already got a hotel room reserved and we've already paid the registration fees. My sweet husband is going with me. We're going to show you!

Today I was reminded of you again, not only when I looked in the mirror and saw the swelling and fluid, but also when I had an unexpected visit from a dear friend. The doorbell rang and I knew I wasn't expecting any visitors, so I almost didn't answer it. I figured it was a delivery man with a package and if I didn't answer the door, he'd just leave it and go on his way...but something told me to go to the door, and I'm so glad I did. Standing on the front porch was Doc, my best friend's husband, and in his hand was a denim jacket. As I greeted him with a hearty hello and a big bear hug (one sided of course, once again, thanks to you), he stepped inside. (Doc had just recently had surgery on his brain and I had no idea that he was okayed to be driving just yet.) I asked him to come in and have a seat as he held out the jacket to me. Taking it, I almost burst into tears. This jacket had been my best friend's jacket and Gerri (my bestest friend in the whole, wide world, had died unexpectedly last month.) Doc told me Gerri would have wanted me to have the jacket. With tears in my eyes, I looked at the front of it. Gerri had several pins attached to the jacket. There was a silver biker pin (she loved to ride motorcycles with her husband), a "He is risen" pin (Gerri was a devout Christian), and a tiny pink breast cancer ribbon pin. (I know she wore that one for me.) I took the jacket and hung it across the back of a bar stool while Doc and I talked.

We talked about Gerri and how much each of us missed her. No, you weren't part of her life, too, and I'm so thankful. Gerri died of a heart attack, they think. We really aren't sure, but it was sudden and none of us were prepared for the loss of her from our lives. Doc and I shared sweet memories. As he talked, I could feel the deep pain in his heart. He was so lonely. After a couple of hours, he looked at his watch and said he had to go. As I walked him to the door, I gave him another big hug and thanked him for coming.

When Doc was gone, I took Gerri's jacket from the chair. I held it in my hands for a few minutes and then took a big sniff of it. I just wanted to see if any part of Gerri lingered there. I smiled as I was able to smell her on the jacket. There was such a familiarity there.

I walked into my bedroom and stood in front of the mirror. I wanted to put the jacket on but was afraid. I knew it was going to be an emotional time when I did and I wasn't sure if I was ready for that. I lay the jacket down and went to my office. I worked on some things for a while and then went back into my bedroom. The jacket lay there waiting for me.

Picking up the jacket, I slowly slipped one arm into it and then the other. Instantly, I could almost hear Gerri's voice whisper, "my ace boon coon." That's what she used to call me. It was her term of endearment that meant I was her very best friend ever.

I stood in front of the mirror a long time. The jacket fit perfectly. It did look funny with the pockets sunken in because I had no breasts (thanks to you, dear cancer), but I didn't care at that point. I could feel the closeness of my friend.

The tiny pink ribbon pin was attached to the right front breast pocket. I could just imagine Gerri placing it there and thinking, this is for my friend, Bonnie. She was always thinking of others, just like you, cancer, but you are always looking for those you can destroy. Gerri looked for those she could love.

So cancer, you may think you still have a hold on me but let me tell you something...you don't own me. You don't define me. You are not a part of my life currently and I hope you never will be again in the future. I don't want to have to write any more letters to you...YOU GOT THAT! Ok.

Sincerely,
Bonnie Annis
Breast Cancer Survivor

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

I feel like I'm on an emotional roller coaster

It's been 459 days since I heard a voice on the telephone telling me I had cancer. It seems so long ago and yet, sometimes, it also feels like it just happened yesterday. That's the weird thing about cancer. It comes into your life and totally turns your world upside down and inside out. You're never the same after you hear those words and that's the part I'm learning to come to grips with. 459 days have passed since I received my life changing news. I'll never forget that day...that Thursday afternoon in June and I don't think God wants me to forget it.

I've done my best to process things on a day by day basis. It's been very difficult, I won't lie. Some days I've felt like giving up. Some days I've cried all day long but then there have also been days when I've been in a deep soul searching mode. It's felt like a roller coaster. Some days up and some days down. Some days I'm flying through the air gripping on so tightly to life that my knuckles are white with fear. But then there are other days, days when I'm so overcome with an indescribable, beautiful peace that can only come from God Himself.

I'm sure I could have attended support groups through the breast cancer wellness center in our town. I could have listened to other women sharing their struggles and pain, but I chose not to do that. I chose to fight my battle alone. It was something I had to do. I had to process things in my own way and in my own time. I cried out to God over and over. Sometimes I asked for an explanation. Sometimes I just cried and begged Him to hold me in His arms and let me feel His love surround me. Every once in a while, I dared to ask "why me?" and He lovingly chided me in His answer, "why not you?"

For people of faith, a journey like this causes immense introspection. It's a test that will prove the depth of your commitment. It's a huge floodlight shining into the deepest, darkest, crevices of your soul. For some, like me, faith is made stronger and more secure. For others, faith wavers and may crumble.

Why does God allow such suffering and devastation into lives? The answer is His alone. Sometimes He chooses to use suffering to reveal flaws...to refine and remold. Sometimes He allows it to show His great mercy and love. For whatever the reason, He allows it. He chooses it. He orders it...specifically for each individual. He deems the length of time for the suffering. He sets limits and boundaries on the pain. He mandates the beginning and the end of it. Sometimes He chooses to remove it completely and sometimes He allows it to linger a little longer.

Over these past 459 days, I've come to see things in a new light. Some days I've done extremely well and other days, I've failed horribly. It's been a roller coaster but through it all, I've learned to accept the fact that I'm not in control of the ride.

God has much to teach me still. I'm trying my best to be a diligent student and learn my lesson well. I know I've grown. I know my faith has been refined and for that, I'm very thankful. Cancer has been both a blessing and curse but, it has also been a great teacher.

Why did God handpick cancer for me? I may never know. I've spent many of the past 459 days trying to figure it out but I have no answers. Today, I listened to a beautiful song that may hold some clues as to His reasoning. The story is called "Blessings" and is by Laura Story. Listen to it by clicking on the link below and as you do, hear the verse that spoke to my heart today. It says "what if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise." Could that be the answer? Could the trial of cancer in my life be His mercy in disguise? I am beginning to think so. I know He'll continue to reveal more to me in the days ahead as my ride continues. I'm so very thankful He loves me and even more thankful I trust Him in all of life's ups and downs.

Listen to Blessings by Laura Story

©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

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 one prepares to go home

Kara and her husband, Jason

As you've read in an earlier post, I have been following the life stories of several other breast cancer survivors. There's a type of understanding between breast cancer patients and we share a unique type of sisterhood, even when most of us have never even met. Earlier this year, I lost an internet friend, Christina Newman, a young woman, not even 40, who lost her valiant fight with breast cancer. I had followed her online story for months and months. I felt like I knew her well and I was honored to have email exchanges with her. She was so gracious to provide answers to my questions and offer helpful advice. That's just something breast cancer survivors do...we support each other. Those who are a little further along in their journey freely offer help to "newbies."

Not long after I found Christina on the internet, I found Kara Tippetts. The main difference in their journeys was that Kara was a Christian while Christina was not. Both of their daily blogs offered me a wealth of information and I chose to follow them daily. Today, I was sad to learn that Kara, another young breast cancer survivor and mother of 4 young children, has begun the journey home. Today her husband made arrangements for hospice to come and care for Kara. It was so hard to believe. Again, my heart was broken knowing that another "pink sister" would be going home soon.

Kara during chemo treatments

Death is such an integral part of life and as a Christian, it is a wonderful reminder that this is not our home, but facing that reality is very difficult. Kara has braved the hard in her life so well. She wrote a book called "The Hardest Peace," which chronicled her journey and she has spoken over and over again at women's conferences and churches sharing her deep faith in hopes of helping others understand how to live life to the fullest even when things are difficult. In her book, Kara says, "This is not a book about trying to win the hardest story. This is a book about a broken woman on the journey to know the hardest peace. Peace in the midst of hard. I speak both generally and specifically of hard, because hard is often the vehicle Jesus uses to meet us, point us to that peace, and teach us grace."

Kara has been an inspiration to me because as a Christ follower, I have been able to travel the road she's on with her while facing my own breast cancer battle. Reading her blog posts and "watching" her take each day moment by moment has given me a wonderful hope that I can travel through my journey just as gracefully as she has even though our journeys are very different.

Kara has been transparent in her sharing. She's shared the good along with the bad and that's her way of helping others see that she is "real." As a breast cancer survivor, one of our main objectives in our journey is to help others know that we aren't vastly different from anyone else. We don't possess super human strength. We don't have an extra measure of courage...but as Christians, we do have a wonderful gift of never-ending hope. We know that no matter how difficult the path becomes, we are never alone.

I am thankful for the internet and the various cancer survivors who have chosen to share their stories through blogs. When I started my blog at the onset of my journey, my goal was to use it as a way to process everything that was happening to me. I wanted to use it as a catharsis. I needed a place to write down what I was feeling and as I did, I found an overwhelming desire to share what God was teaching me in my life too. Like Kara, I began to understand that even though God had allowed this hard to come into my life, He had a wonderful reason...a perfect plan...and although I didn't understand it, He was going to use it to forever change my life and hopefully the lives of others too.

Kara's children

I will be lifting up Kara and her husband, Jason, in the days ahead. As they begin to accept that Kara's time on earth is drawing to a close, I will ask God to bless them with an extra measure of His love. I will pray for His comfort to surround them and envelope them. I will pray He sends people to love on them and help them through each moment. I will also pray for their 4 sweet little ones. Oh how difficult it will be on them to lose their Mommy. Won't you please join me in praying for them? If you would like to know more about their story, you can read Kara's blog. I'll put the link at the end of this post but please know, she more than likely will become too weak to continue writing in the days ahead.

One day my story could end the way hers does. None of us expect to die so soon and when we least expect it... but as Christians, we know that only God knows the number of days He has planned for each of us to be on this earth. We have to trust that He will only call us home when He is ready for us. Cancer is a scary thing. Cancer is a very difficult thing. But I know that God is so much bigger and so much stronger than cancer could ever be and I am trusting in Him with everything I have inside of me. He is my hope and I know He is trustworthy and true.

Read Kara's blog

Read Kara's book, the Hardest Peace

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

What Cancer has taught me

Cancer is a great teacher and while I never thought I would be one of her students; I have become very astute in her class on life lessons. Today, I'd like to share some of those lessons with you.

God loved me enough to allow cancer into my life. It is for His purposes and to teach me things I never would have learned had it not come my way.When I first got cancer, I prayed and said, "God, why me?" His reply was "why not you?" That allowed me to understand He had personally chosen cancer to bless my life. 

Control is an illusion. I have no control over anything. Everything is in God's hand. In a heartbeat, my entire world was turned upside down. When I heard the words, "you have cancer" I realized all those moments I thought I was in control of my life were just lies. I've never been in control and I never will be.

Trials come to teach us. They help us gain new perspectives. In the midst of a trial, it seems to be a huge nuisance but looking back over it, we can find lessons we learned. Cancer has been the biggest trial I've ever faced. Although I've completed my radiation treatments, I still have other treatments and therapies ahead. Each of those will present their own set of trials but I'm sure as I look back upon them, I'll see things that God was teaching me. "Consider it wholly joyful, my brethren, whenever you are enveloped in or encounter trials of any sort or fall into various temptations. Be assured and understand that the trial and proving of your faith bring out endurance and steadfastness and patience. But let endurance and steadfastness and patience have full play and do a thorough work, so that you may be [people] perfectly and fully developed [with no defects], lacking in nothing. James 1:2-4 (Amplified Version of the Holy Bible)

Love openly and well. Cancer has taught me that love is the most important thing we can ever give someone else. I am intentional about telling my friends and family I love them. I want them to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they are important to me. "But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love.: 1 Corinthians 13:13 (New American Standard Bible)

People are important. Every single person that comes into your life is there for a reason. They may only cross your path for a short time, but they are there to either teach you something or for you to teach them something. God chooses who comes and goes in our lives. I believe He handpicks them! God has brought various people into my life since my cancer diagnosis. It's been amazing to see the people He's chosen to reach out to me. He's used complete strangers to encourage me and lift me up. He's used old friends and coworkers to pray for me. He has known exactly what I have needed at exactly the right time. I am so thankful He uses others to be His hands and feet. 

Worry has no power over me. I used to worry all the time. My husband called me a worry-wart. I finally learned that worrying solved nothing and that old saying, "worry is like a rocking chair, it gives you something to do but never gets you anywhere" is so true. All worrying does is rob you of precious time. “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble. Matthew 6:34 (The Holy Bible)

Death is not as scary as it used to be to me. The Bible says my life is like a vapor and a vapor doesn't last very long. When faced with cancer, you learn to be firm in your faith. You really come to understand that this is just our temporary home and we are just passing through. My home is in eternity with God. I'm not afraid of dying because I know to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. "Yet you do not know what your life will be like tomorrow. You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away." James 4:14 (New International Version of the Holy Bible)


Life is not about me. It's about others. Enough said.

I've learned to be a gracious receiver. When life throws huge health trials your way, you learn quickly that you have physical limitations. It's important to learn when we refuse to accept help, we can be robbing someone of a blessing. When someone offers to do something for you, graciously accept. That old saying "it is more blessed to give than to receive" is very true.  "In everything I showed you that by working hard in this manner you must help the weak and remember the words of the Lord Jesus, that He Himself said, 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.'" Acts 20:35 (New American Standard Version of the Holy Bible)

I have learned to seek and find joy. I have learned to look for joy in simple things. The way my husband's eyes twinkle when he smiles at me...the sweet dimples in my granddaughter's hand..the way the leaves flutter to the ground...joy is all around us.

I've learned it's okay to cry and that my feelings matter. I used to be ashamed to cry in front of someone. I would always hold my feelings in until I could go to a private place and let them out. Now I've learned that it's okay to cry. Crying is an emotional release of deep pain. I've also learned that God holds my tears precious in His sight. In the Bible it even says He stores our tears up in His bottle. That tells me that He counts every tear I cry as precious. "You number my wanderings;
Put my tears into Your bottle; Are they not in Your book?" Psalm 56:8 (New King James Bible)

I get tired more easily. I’ve learned to honor the feeling of tiredness and act on it. In the past I pushed and pushed, knowing that I could push past my limits and succeed. Now I know that if I push I will fall, so I try to not run faster than I can walk. I am learning to go to bed early, to relish the times I can sleep in, and to not feel guilty about needing a nap or saying “no.”

 I'm slower. I'm not as fast as I once was, I've slowed way down.The every day stranger wouldn’t notice, but I do, and my family does. I don’t pack as much into my day, I don’t rush through things. I’m more deliberate in my movements and actions.

I'm more mindful. I pay attention to the feeling the bristles of my toothbrush on my teeth, feeling the sand under my feet, noticing the sunrises, and sunsets. I smell my grandbabies, watch them puzzle over how to do things, enjoy the silence in my car, and feel the sweat on my back as I exercise. In my awareness I recognize how truly blessed I am.

I am stronger than I think I am. I have learned that I am more powerful than ever. I have become an overcomer. I have fought battles I never thought I could win and I have been brave.

I am more patient now. I used to be very impatient with myself and with others. My 2015 slogan is going to be "don't sweat the small stuff." Because honestly, getting worked up over people and situations just really isn’t where I want to be spending my energy. So when I feel irritation or frustration coming on, I will step back, flip my hands in the air, and say, “It just doesn’t matter.” I will choose to let things go and when I do, I will feel such freedom.

Prayer is key to everything. I've always known this but it became even more real lately. I can pray at any moment of any day and I know God hears me. He is always ready to listen to my heart. I can share anything, absolutely anything, with Him. He does not judge me. He does not condemn me. He merely loves me. "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:6-7

I'm more forgiving. The Bible tells me that I'm to be slow to anger and quick to forgive. The softer-side of Bonnie has come forward. I want to hold, cuddle, kiss, caress, whisper words of truth to those around me. I want to say, “I love you.”I want to overlook faults and dismiss shortcomings. I'm learning to be more Christlike. "And become useful and helpful and kind to one another, tenderhearted (compassionate, understanding, loving-hearted), forgiving one another [readily and freely], as God in Christ forgave you." Ephesians 4:32 (Amplified Bible)

I've learned to live in the moment. Don't focus on tomorrow, next week, next month, or next year! Pay attention to exactly where you are right now and live in that precise moment. Cancer has taught me no longer to be a long range planner. Now I focus on what's happening this minute and I soak up every single second of that minute.

I've learned to prioritize. I've learned to think about things that are really important to me and the other things fall. Let it be. Let it go. Let it fall. And things will be okay...

I've learned to be purpose driven - I've learned to live my life with purpose. To focus on living my life fully. To go where God leads and do what He says do without hesitation, without question, without delay.

My identity is not tied up in my disease. I am not my breast cancer. It does not define me.

Multi-tasking is a thing of the past. I used to be a great multi-tasker. Every job I held demanded it. I had to learn to juggle 5 or 6 balls at one time not only in my workplace, but also in my home. Now that I'm older and I've gone through all these treatments, I just can't do it any longer. I find I am much better at doing one thing at a time and doing it well. It was hard to admit I can no longer write my blog, talk on the phone, and text my daughter all at the same time. I used to do those things so easily.

I forget things. Whether it's a sign of aging or results from medication or treatment, I don't really know...but I am not as sharp as I used to be. I find that making lists help me remember. I seem to be sharpest first thing in the morning so that's when I compile my lists. When I do forget something, I don't beat myself up over it. I just laugh and write it down on tomorrow's list of things to do.
Those are just a few of the things cancer has taught me. I'm sure I will learn many more valuable lessons in the future. It's amazing to me the depth of understanding that has come since my illness and even though I'm sharing these valuable life lessons with you, you probably won't truly understand them until some debilitating disease or tragedy touches your life. My hope is that you will take away something from this post...something that will cause you to think or re-evaluate your life before that time comes.

If I had to sum things up in just a few sentences, I would say this to you - "Be intentional in the way you live and love. Let go of the small things and always be ready to forgive. Embrace life and live it to the fullest. If you look for joy, you will find it."

Having breast cancer has not been easy, but it has changed me. It has changed me in ways I could never believe. For the last 8 months, I've been on a roller coaster of self discovery. God has shown me things about myself that I didn't like as well as things I loved. I have felt His hands upon me molding me and shaping me into a beautiful vessel for His use. I'm still not finished yet, but I can't wait to see what He does in my life in the days ahead. 

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Good Distractions

This weekend, my sweet daughter, Jamie, came to stay with us. It's always fun to have Jamie come and visit. Her youthful energy explodes as she enters the front door. Oh, how I've missed that! She doesn't get to come as often as she'd like since she lives a good distance away. I'm thankful she comes when she can and she always makes a point of only wanting to spend time with me while she's here. She doesn't come with a pre-planned agenda of going shopping or sightseeing or anything like that...she's just happy to be here spending special moments with her Mama. She doesn't know how much that means to me and yes, she's my baby.

Each of my four children are very different. My son, Dave, is the oldest. He's quiet most of the time but has a very funny sense of humor, the kind that sneaks up on you. He's like a still pond, where the waters run deep. He doesn't share his feelings often, but he is very pensive. He's an incredibly hard worker and has worked two jobs for years to provide for his family. He's a dedicated husband and a devoted father. I am so proud of him. My daughter, Erin, is the second born. She and I are so much alike in many ways. She's a wonderful wife and mother. She homeschools three little ones and will soon grace us with another grandchild. She is like a mountain stream, constant and flowing. She is full of wisdom and encouragement. Then there's Laura, my third child. She is strong, determined, and independent. She started life that way as a kicking and screaming newborn. She is a good wife and doting mother. She is my responsible one, the one who is always willing to be at the ready when needed. And last but not least, there's Jamie, my soon to be 27 year old baby. Jamie is soft hearted and kind. She is easily hurt. She has a heart of mercy and like me, is always pulling for the underdog. Each of my children have character traits that remind me so much of myself but each of them are so very different. They are all wonderful! They are such blessings and I am so proud of each of them.

When I look at my children, though they are 38, 32, 30, and almost 27, I still see them as they were when they were younger. Maybe all mothers do this, I don't know...but I long to hold onto those childhood years...the ones that pass by so quickly. Where did the days go? How did they slip away so fast? One moment they were running barefoot through the house giggling and laughing...the next they were grown with little ones of their own. Life moves too quickly and that's one reason, I treasure the special moments I get to spend alone with each of my children. I'm afraid that too soon, those moments will disappear forever.

Last night we celebrated Jamie's 27th birthday a few days early. We had a nice dinner followed by cake and ice cream. As I lit the candles on her cake and prepared to snap a photo as she blew them out, I was filled with emotion. Just a few months ago, I had wondered if I would be here for her birthday, for Thanksgiving, and for Christmas. Cancer does crazy things to your mind. Now, as I watched her pucker up to blow, I was so thankful. I was thankful that I had lived and thankful that I was able to celebrate another milestone in her life.

After we'd had our dessert, we decided to watch a movie together...sweet family time...just Phil, Jamie and I...a simple pleasure. Jamie chose the movie for us, a fairly new release, "The Fault in Our Stars." The movie was about teenagers going through various types of Cancer and how even in the midst of such pain and tragedy, they found love. The movie was thought provoking and a little difficult to watch, especially since I had just recently completed my radiation treatments for Breast Cancer.

One character in the movie, "Gus," was filled with such positivity and reminded me that no matter what my circumstances, I should always choose to be happy. As Gus and "Hazel Grace," the main character of the movie, intertwined their life stories, it was interesting to note that love indeed does conquer all. The story doesn't end the way you think it will and I won't give away the ending for those who haven't seen it yet, but it was a tear jerker. Jamie, Phil, and I were all sniffling by the time the movie ended. The movie made us realize that life is fleeting and we need to savor moments with those we love.

In the movie, there's one scene in particular where Gus, who has Osteosarcoma, puts an unlit cigarette to his lips. Hazel Grace, dying of lung cancer, looks at him in disgust and says, "how could you?" Gus smiles and says, “It's a metaphor, see: You put the killing thing right between your teeth, but you don't give it the power to do its killing.” What a profound statement. It really made me think. Since my diagnosis of Breast Cancer, I had given it power. I had given it power to steal joy in my life. I had given it power to invoke fear in my life. Now it was time to take that power back. God reminded me that only He is the one who decides when my life is over. Only He knows the number of my days. So, instead of wondering and fearing that I will miss special moments with my children or grandchildren...instead of fearing that I won't be around for the holidays, I am going to just choose life. I am going to live as long as God will allow me to live and when it's time for me to go, I'll be ready.

Thank you, God, for my beautiful, wonderful children...for blessing me beyond measure...for keeping them safe and growing them up into marvelous, healthy, happy adults. Thank you for reminding me that I had given away power that wasn't mine to give...that I had allowed fear to overwhelm me at times but just like Gus in the movie, it was just a metaphor and now that killing thing, the Cancer, had been removed from my life by surgery and zapped by radiation. It was also going to be doused with anti hormone drugs that would render it powerless to multiply and grow inside me. It can only have the power to kill if God allows it to have that power, and I am trusting Him for complete healing.

There will be days when the fear tries to rear its ugly head and when it does, I'm going to remember the quote from the movie..."It's a metaphor, see: You put the killing thing right between your teeth, but you don't give it the power to do its killing.” Fear only has power when we give in to it, so it's my job to fight the urge to give in.

Jamie left this morning. She had a Sunday School class to teach. The topic of her lesson was on love and how Christ commands us to love even our enemies. I'm so proud of her. She's my baby and even when she turns 27 on Wednesday, I'll still see her as my little girl. Love makes life so precious!

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace." Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Dear Tumor

Dear Tumor,
This letter is long overdue, but today, I felt like I needed to tell you how I really feel. You entered my life sometime in the past, the exact date I'll probably never know, but you made your presence known that cold, March morning. I'll never forget the day I found you taking up residence inside my right breast...like an alien invader, you had planted yourself firmly and spread your tentacles deep inside.

Before we met, my life was good...no, it was more than good, it was blessed! I was happy, healthy, and whole. I was living my life to the fullest and enjoying every minute of it. I ate well, I played hard, I never expected you to come and disrupt my life, but you did. Before you came, I was the wife to an adoring husband, the mother to four very unique children, and the grandmother to seven wonderful blessings. I thought about the future and had so many plans...places to go, things to do, and people to love.

On June 5, at 4:25 p.m., I learned of your evil. The doctor's words, "it's probably nothing but a cyst" were untrue. When I heard your true name, "Cancer," I cringed. My whole world crumbled in an instant. I think my heart even skipped a beat, I'm almost sure of it. So many things changed in a split second and all because of you.

In July, I learned your name, Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, such a big name for such a small tumor. But you were powerful. You had already grown and become stage 2B. I was determined to learn more about you and so, I Googled you. I read books about you. I asked questions about you. I came to know you well. When they said you were invasive, they weren't kidding! You invaded every part of my life. I was afraid of you and your potential. I just knew you were going to destroy every relationship I knew. How would my husband handle this? How would my children cope? Would my grandchildren understand? Suddenly, everything I knew became fragile. I cried myself to sleep at night. I whispered soft prayers asking God for healing.

Even after you were cut out of my body, I still felt your presence. You left your fingerprints everywhere. I tried so hard to erase you. I wanted to forget you. I wanted my life back. No matter how hard I tried, my life wasn't the same any more. It was different, and all because of you. But then I realized, you were a gift.

You taught me to live from moment to moment treasuring each one as an undiscovered blessing. You taught me that I had taken so much for granted before you came. You helped me learn to put things into perspective.

Before you came, I never considered my own mortality. Sure, I knew that one day I would die, but I didn't dwell on it. Thanks to you, I have been faced with my mortality daily. I understand that I am not promised tomorrow. You've given me the gift of learning Carpe Diem, to seize the day! Each morning I wake, I am thankful just for the gift of waking. I treasure things now that I didn't before, and I stopped placing value on things that shouldn't have it.

So today, tumor, I'd like to thank you for all you've done for me. You've completely changed me, both physically and mentally. You've left an indelible mark on my body and on my soul. I know you were chosen specifically for me by a loving God who planned to use you to teach me much. Yes, I am still learning and I know I will continue to learn in the days ahead. So thank you for the valuable lessons you've given me thus far.

My prayer, dear tumor, is that I will never see you again as long as I live. Hopefully, the radiation has killed every rogue cell that branched off of you and traveled through my body. Now, as I begin the healing process, I am still cognizant that you came to visit. While I'm thankful you came, I want you to know I wish I'd never met you. I wish there was a cure for you and others like you so none of my friends or loved ones would ever have to know you. Can I ask you a favor? Will you please promise to never touch the lives of our family again? Will you stay far away from those I love? Will you?

It has taken many months for me to be able to speak to you, tumor. It has taken me a long time to realize you were not just an evil invader, but a blessing in disguise. God has continued to whisper, "Trust Me," to my heart daily, and I do. I know that He is with me and even if you do come to pay me another visit, He has promised to never leave me.

I pray I never encounter you again, but I will offer you my humble gratitude. Without you, I would never have understood fully who I am in Christ. I would never have realized how much I took for granted. I would never have gained new insight and hope. So thank you, dear tumor, for blessing me. Though I will never know completely the reason you were chosen; I trusted God in your coming. He knows best what is necessary in our lives. All I can do is trust whatever method He chooses to teach me.

Gratefully yours and Humbly His,
Bonnie Annis

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Cancer cards?

Waiting for my prescriptions to be filled, I browsed the greeting cards. I was looking at the various categories and wondering if there were any cards geared specifically toward cancer patients. Most of the cards I'd received in the mail, since being diagnosed,  were the standard "get well" cards and I remembered how I felt when I received the first one. Of course, the sender was just trying to convey her love and concern, but a "get well" card seemed kind of trite at the onset of my disease. Some of my friends had taken time to make cards with heartfelt sentiments enclosed and those were among my most treasured ones. The more I looked, I realized there were no cards specifically for cancer patients...what a shame!

I thought perhaps someone should make a line of cards primarily for breast cancer patients, but if they did, what would they say? Humor would probably be the best route to take when approaching such a serious subject. But even so, how would one begin? "Hair today, gone tomorrow?" That would be appropriate for a chemo patient or what about "bald is beautiful?" The more I thought about it, the more I realized it would be difficult to come up with a line of cards that was caring, kind, and appropriate. 

If I were to write a line of cards, I would write from a personal perspective. Since I've actually experienced breast cancer, I think I could do a pretty good job. For a newly diagnosed patient, I would make a card that said something like "I know you never expected to hear you have cancer, and no one but you can understand exactly how your life changed the moment you heard those dreaded words; but on days when you feel bad, when the cancer treatments make you sick and tired, when you feel like you can't cope, I want you to close your eyes and imagine I'm there with you, giving you a hug, then I want you to call and tell me what's going on. I'm your friend. I'm listening. I want to help." Now that would be a card that I would have liked to have received myself! One that really came from the heart. Maybe it would be better to keep it a little lighter and to the point..."Don't wait for the storm to pass, just dance in the rain..." or how about really short and to the point..."CANCER SUCKS!"

Card writing is certainly not my forte, but I do believe there is a need for a line of cancer cards. Since I love to write, maybe I'll put on my thinking cap and start coming up with my own line of greeting cards. I'm sure they wouldn't sell in major department stores, but I could always make them one by one and send them out to people as the need arises. Scrapbooking and papercrafting are among many of my favorite hobbies!

The final card in my new series would be one picturing a glamorous couple as they are ballroom dancing. On the back of the man's tux would be block letters N.E.D. The title for the card would be "Dancing with NED." Do you know what N.E.D. stands for...no evidence of disease! That's one dance that all breast cancer patients want to take! Those words, "you're dancing with N.E.D." are prized words that every breast cancer patient wants to hear come from their doctor's mouth. N.E.D. is like a "get out of jail free card" but instead of it being in the game of "Monopoly," it's in the real game of "LIFE." On the inside of the card, I would have to put "CONGRATULATIONS! in big bold letters. I don't know when I'll receive that card myself, but I'm hoping it will be very soon. If someone doesn't send me one in the mail when I am diagnosed as N.E.D. I'll just make a card and send it to myself :) Greeting card sentiments need to be full of positivity and hope and that would would definitely fit the bill.

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