Apologizing for my scars

Sitting in the waiting room at my cardiologist's office, I watch the people coming in for their appointments. Across the room, I see an elderly woman sitting alone reading her magazine. Next to her sits a man in jeans, mid 30's, watching the clock. It's apparent he's here on his lunch break and needs to get back to his job. People. Just regular people. From all walks of life. We're all here to take care of our hearts, our most vital organ. 

When my name is called, I see the sweet nurse open the door and wait for me. She has the most radiant smile. Her name is JoAnn. She's one of my favorites. We walk over to the scale and I take off my jacket. She smiles at me, knowing that I'm not really hot, I just want to shed a few extra pounds before getting on the scale. She writes down the number and leads me down the hall to the examination room. After taking my vital signs, she sits down and we talk for a few minutes. She asks me about my family, the holiday preparations, and how I've been. It's nice to have a pleasant conversation with someone who truly seems interested in my life. 

JoAnn motions for me to lie back on the table as she rolls a portable EKG machine over to my side. She asks me to lift my shirt and before I do, I tell her "I'm sorry you have to see this." "See what?" she asks. I lift my shirt. I hear her inhale sharply, as I say, "These, my scars. I'm so sorry you have to see their ugliness." She just smiles and says, "I had no idea." She asks when I had surgery and I told her the first surgery was in July 2014 and the second one was in August of this year. She tells me I look amazing and I'm so thankful. I've hidden the evidence of breast cancer well. 

I don't know why but I feel like I have to explain to her the reason I didn't wear my prostheses today. As I talk about them, my silicone girls, she listens intently. "They're just so darn heavy," I tell her, "and so uncomfortable too." She nods and I go on, telling her it's not so bad being flat chested. 

JoAnn leaves the room and I wait. Sitting on the exam table, I feel the white liner paper on the table crinkling under my bottom. The sun is beating down on me and it's uncomfortably warm in this tiny room. I decide to move to the chair in the corner. Just moving there is markedly cooler. I wait.

The doctor comes in after about thirty minutes. Cardiologists are busy guys. I don't expect him to apologize. I know he's a caring physician and he's dedicated. He takes his time with his patients and I know he'll do the same with me. 

He sits down at the computer and pulls up my records. We go through all my medications and ailments before he examines me. I take a risk and ask if he'll have time to look at my throat and listen to my lungs while I'm there. I tell him it would help me kill two birds with one stone. He's okay with it! I'm thankful. I've saved another copay. 

After the exam, the doc tells me I'm doing just fine, heartwise. He says, "How does a year sound?" I give him a puzzled look. He explains he doesn't need to see me for a year unless I have any problems between now and then, I smile. We walk to the checkout counter and he hands me my prescriptions. Everyone in his office is so warm and friendly. I visit with the receptionist for a few minutes and then head toward the elevator. 

Crossing through the hospital parking lot, I dodge cars pulling in and out of parking spaces. This is a busy place today. I finally reach my car, unlock it and climb inside. I sit there for a few minutes processing everything. All of a sudden it hits me...why did I apologize to JoAnn for having to see my scars? Was it because I felt the need to shield her from cancer's ugliness? Was I embarrassed at not having breasts? I had to think about it. Yes, I was still a little embarrassed at not having breasts. Even though I like to pretend I've gotten past that, the truth is, I have not. It still hurts that my femininity has been stripped away from me due to a cluster of malignant cells that invaded my chest wall and lymph nodes. Yes, I did feel I needed to protect her by warning her about my hideous chest. I'm a Mother and a Grandmother. I'm a protector. It's what I do. I've seen the scars for over a year and a half. I've had time to get used to them, but others have not. The scars are long, ugly purple, angry looking incisions slicing my chest wall in half horizontally. I look like something out of a horror movie where an angry slasher went wild with a box cutter. It was gross. 

Today was the first time, since surgery, I've felt the need to say "I'm sorry you're going to have to see my scars," and it will be the last. I realized, as I sat in the car and pondered my conversation with the nurse, that there was no apology needed. I should have been proud to lift my shirt and exclaim, "Do you want to see my battle scars?" And that would have been telling the truth. I have been in a battle, the fight for my life. I'm a wounded warrior. I'm a veteran of sorts. I won't get any badges of honor for my courage other than the right to be alive...and I'll take it. 

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

You never know

A text message came in from my daughter, one of many I receive every day, but this one was different. This one was filled with emotion, even though it was impossible for me to hear her voice through her message, as I read it, I could almost see her face...hear her trembling words, see those trickling tears. "One of our guys went on a test ride and got in an accident," she said, "He was killed." I sat there as I read her message. I read it over and over again wondering who this person was and what had led to such tragic events.

Later in the day, she called and gave me more information. I could her the disbelief as she said, "Mom, he was so young, in his twenties, with a 3 year old little girl and a wife." I tried not to interrupt. I knew she needed to let the words flow to allow healing to begin. When she finished, I commented that none of us ever know when our last day on Earth will be. I told her I was so very sorry. 

I couldn't help but wonder about this young man and his family. Did his wife get to tell him goodbye that morning as he went off to work? Did she tell him she loved him? Did he promise to see her later that day for dinner? I wondered if, as he walked out the workplace door to perform the test ride on that company motorcycle, what his thoughts were...was his thinking about how much fun he was going to have as the wind whipped through his hair? Was he thinking about how much time was left in the day until he could get home to his family?

Just shortly after he'd left the store, this young man had met his fate. It seems a bus pulled out in front of him and he was unable to stop. The collision took his life. He'd never see his young wife again. He'd never get to see his little daughter grow up. A split second. That's all it took for lives to be changed forever.

Imagine the hushed whispers that traveled through the workplace after they learned the news...the tears, the gasps of horror. No one could have known their day would be turned upside down like that and yet, that's the reality of life. We live and move and have our being according to the number of minutes God grants us. None of us know when our time will be up...when He'll call us home.

I couldn't help but wonder about the man's salvation. I asked my daughter if the young man was saved and she said she didn't know. We talked about how important it is to share our faith with the people we come in contact with on a daily basis. I think she understood in a much deeper way after this fatal accident.

Oh how my heart grieves for this one who was killed and not only for him, but for those loved ones he left behind. How will they cope? My prayer is that they'll have friends and family to come along beside them and help them walk through this hard...that they'll find comfort in the prayers and love of others, but most of all...that they'll find Jesus. And that He'll supply His perfect peace to cover over the difficult questions that need answers.

May we never take a day for granted. May we remember to tell those we love how much we care. May we realize that life is short and you never know when God's going to call you home. It could be in the next few minutes...are you ready?

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

Landslide

It's a rainy, dreary November morning and as I look outside, I see all the leaves on the trees are changing color. There are beautiful shades of yellow, red, and gold. The wind blows gently stirring the trees. A shower of leaves fall reminding me that time is creeping by.

The clock on the kitchen wall chimes. I glance toward it and realize I've forgotten to turn the time back. Spring forward...fall back. Daylight savings time. I've never understood why it was necessary to turn back the hands of time. It gets darker earlier now, true, but why set the clocks back? Why not just leave time alone and let it be? Why do we have to interfere?

Time has become an important realization in my life lately. It seems, with every leaf that falls, with every minute that ticks by, I'm realizing things never stay the same. Stevie Nicks' song, Landslide, pummels my mind. These verses crowd my thoughts:

"Can I handle the seasons of my life? 
Well, I've been afraid of changing 
'Cause I've built my life around you 
But time makes you bolder, even children get older and I'm getting older too"

I ponder the questions in the song lyrics. Can I handle the seasons of my life? I don't know. When I was younger, I'd have immediately said yes. Now that I'm older, the seasons are becoming more difficult to handle, more challenging than I'd ever dreamed.

I have been afraid of changing. Every time I look into the mirror, I see myself growing older. No matter how many times I color my hair to hide the whiteness, no matter how much makeup I put on...I can't hide the fact that I'll soon have 58 years. I feel my body deteriorating daily. My strength isn't what it used to be. I'm not as limber as I once was. Just like the trees outside. I feel like I'm entering the Autumn of my life. I feel like I'm on the edge of a great precipice looking down and soon, the landslide will come and carry me away. Life is so fragile.

Speaking of fragile life, yesterday, I went to visit my mother. She's in a nursing home. My husband was sweet enough to take me to see her. It's a long drive and took nearly 2 hours to get there. When we entered the room, she was lying in bed watching one of her favorite shows on television. Her frail, little roommate was sitting in her wheelchair on her side of the room. We spoke to Mrs. "S" as we entered, remembering she is hard of hearing we spoke a little louder than we normally would have spoken. She replied a feeble hello. Mama looked up as we approached and smiled. She was glad to see us. I noticed, since our last visit, she's aged. Her eyes looked weaker. Her hands shakier. Her body is wearing out. As we visited, I tried to pay attention to little details, to listen more intently. We had a good visit and after a few hours, I could tell Mama was becoming tired so we said our goodbyes and left. Time. Where had it gone?

Sometimes I wish I was still a child. It was easier back then. There was security in knowing my parents would be there to love and protect me. I felt safe knowing whenever I had a problem I could run to my mother, but now, I don't burden her with my problems. She's got enough of her own. It's sad to realize nothing ever stays the same. Things are always changing.

On the drive home, I looked over at my husband. I've built my life around you. I see he's getting older too. His hair is a beautiful silvery gray. His beard is stark white. He is my life love, so tender and so kind. He is my rock...sturdy and strong. He is dependable, faithful, and true. I have built my life around him. But time is working against us. How much longer will we have together? Sometimes I am afraid. I'm afraid of being alone.

The leaves on the trees are clinging with all their might through this gentle Fall rain, but some of them just can't hold on any longer. I watch them drift slowly down to the ground. They float so tenderly. Within days, the leaves that have fallen will turn brown...dead...lifeless. Their beautiful color will fade and be no more.

But as I look at the leaves I am reminded of something. Life and death go hand in hand. The dead leaves covering the ground will provide a covering for little seedlings that will emerge in the Spring. Their decay will provide good, fertilized soil and nutrients for new life in a few months.

The hour chimes on my clock and once again, I think of my life. Time makes you bolder. I don't see myself as bold, but as I've gotten older, I've taken more chances. Since being diagnosed with breast cancer, my priorities have changed. I've realized how very short life truly is and I try to live in the moment now.

Even children get older...I'm not the only one getting older. I see my children getting older, too. While I still sometimes see them as they were when they were younger, I realize they are adults now. They are capable of making their own decisions. They don't need me as much as they once did. I watch them as they live their lives. I'm proud of the people they've become. I've raised them well. Now they have children of their own and they are growing too. My grandchildren.  Eight of them. The oldest is in college and the youngest will turn one this week. Time is flying by as they change and grow.

Time, precious time. It quietly slips away. Not a single moment can ever be saved. Once it's gone, it's gone. Spring forward. Fall back. The clock keeps ticking. No matter how we try to adjust the time, we're only given a certain number of moments here on this earth and when our time's up, it's up.

There's a landslide heading my way and as much as I'd like to dodge it and let it sweep right past me, I don't think that's going to happen. I'm bracing for it already. I don't know when the first rock will tumble down but I'm watching.

Another leaf just let go. It's time was up. It had a good life clinging to the safety and security of the tree. At one time, it drew sustenance and provided shade. I've come to realize that my life is like a leaf, floating on the breeze. One day here and the next day gone. And that's the way it should be, but time is so very short....cancer helps you realize that fact and helps you see things so much more clearly. And time, while fleeting, is so very precious.

While Stevie Nicks' song was about her discontentment with life circumstances and the possible break up of her band, Landslide, means so much more to me. Change is inevitable. Change is constant, says Benjamin Disraeli and I agree.



© 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

Homegoing celebration

Yesterday, I had the honor and privilege of watching a memorial service for my sweet friend, Kara Tippetts, via live streaming over the internet. The service was held in her home town of Colorado Springs, Colorado. Her blog had announced earlier this week that a live streaming service would be held due to the public response to her death. When I first read about it on her blog, I knew I'd have to watch even though I knew it would be very difficult. I entered a reminder on my smartphone to make sure I didn't miss the streaming feed. It was shown at 1:15 p.m. MST and lasted just short of an hour.

At 4 p.m. EST, my cellphone alerted me to turn on my computer as the service was about to begin. I wasn't shocked, as I focused on the live stream, to see the massive amount of people who sat quietly in the sanctuary of Kara's church. Kara's life had touched so many. The service began very quietly and it was evident that the room was filled with deep emotion. One pastor got up to speak and brought a great message about Jesus raising Lazarus and how death was conquered at the cross. A small band played and then speaker came forward. Everything was done so tastefully and reverently.

As the speakers came to the podium, I could see Kara's husband, Jason, and their four children on the front row. They were visibly upset and were constantly wiping their eyes with tissue. I've been praying for them since Kara's passing. How very difficult it must have been for them to say goodbye to their beloved. Even though I'd never met Kara personally, I considered her a dear friend as we had bonded through Facebook and email messages throughout the year. I found myself tearing up as the service came to a close. It was hard to realize that she was gone.

For Christians, funeral services should be times of grand celebration...that's what I'm hoping mine will be when the time comes. I want people to remember how much I loved life and how wonderfully rich my life was while I was here on Earth. Tears and sadness are natural as we let go of the ones we love but we should also rejoice that the time has finally come for them to stand face to face with the One who loves them most.

I've been to many funerals in my lifetime. Most of those had been for Christian friends or family members. While it was sad to see their Earthly life end,  I knew their heavenly life was just beginning. What a great comfort it was to know where our loved one was headed...to heaven to be with the Lord. I've also been to funerals of non-Christians. Oh how sad those services were! The ones left behind had no certainty of where their loved one was going. In those instances, death seemed futile.

There's one difference I've noticed between the funeral service of a Christian and a non-Christian, and that difference is hope. The Bible says, "We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord." 2 Corinthians 5:8 Christians know that when they leave this Earth, they go immediately home to be with Jesus in Heaven. Non believers are forever separated from Christ and no longer have the opportunity to accept Him as their Lord and Savior.

At the end of most funeral services held in the Southern states, an invitation is given just as the service winds to a close. The preacher wants to make sure no one leaves without at least having heard the plan of salvation. I've witnessed most of those invitations without any response from the funeral guests but on one occasion, I had the honor of seeing one of my relatives come forward and accept Christ as Savior. What a sweet moment that was!

Life and Death are polar opposites. One brings pleasure and the other brings pain. The reality of life is that it can end at any moment. Death is eminent. We will all die at some time or other. This realization helps us understand that we need to use our remaining time well.

Kara, shortly before her death said, "I feel like I’m a kid at a party, whose Father said it’s time to leave and go Home already….. And I am not afraid of dying — I just don’t want to go.” And who could blame her? Have you ever pondered how you might feel as you approach your last days here on Earth? I have done this recently. It's strange how cancer causes you to re-evaluate your life and how it shoves death right in your face. Watching Kara during her last weeks here, I realized the importance of dying well. Ann Voskamp, a wonderful Christian author and dear friend of Kara's said, "We love life more, the more we realize all this lovely life is transient." How very true her statement is to me. I've learned to love life more since being diagnosed, and Kara's life has been a wonderful example of not only living well, but dying well.

If you've never read Kara's book or her blog, you probably don't really know her. You may have heard her name as she was recently in the news when Brittany Maynard, a young woman diagnosed with a large brain tumor announced the specific day she had planned to take her own life through assisted suicide. Kara, though dying of stage 4 metastatic breast cancer, wanted to reach out to Brittany and make sure she knew that God had a plan for her life...that she didn't have to do this...that God had allotted her a specific number of days to live and no one could know that number except God Himself.  Here's a short snippet of the letter for you: "Suffering is not the absence of goodness, it is not the absence of beauty, but perhaps it can be the place where true beauty can be known."
In your choosing your own death, you are robbing those that love you with the such tenderness, the opportunity of meeting you in your last moments and extending you love in your last breaths. As I sat on the bed of my young daughter praying for you, I wondered over the impossibility of understanding that one day the story of my young daughter will be made beautiful in her living because she witnessed my dying. That last kiss, that last warm touch, that last breath, matters — but it was never intended for us to decide when that last breath is breathed. Knowing Jesus, knowing that He understands my hard goodbye, He walks with me in my dying. My heart longs for you to know Him in your dying. Because in His dying, He protected my living. My living beyond this place. Brittany, when we trust Jesus to be the carrier, protecter, redeemer of our hearts, death is no longer dying. My heart longs for you to know this truth, this love, this forever living." (You can read Kara's complete letter to Brittany here.)

Kara was a wonderful, loving, caring, concerned mother and friend. Her faith was what carried her through her diagnosis and into her last days. She walked with God daily and made sure others knew He loved them. She lived well. She also died well. She died with dignity and grace. My hope is that I can follow in her footsteps when my time comes.

At 57, it seems the older I get the faster the days go by. Just yesterday it was Christmas and now, it's almost Easter. I feel an urgency to do the things I need to do before I pass away. When I was much younger, I never gave death a thought even though the Bible tell us that daily we are dying. As you think back over your life, can you say you've lived well? I hope you can. As you approach the later part of your life, do you ever think about whether or not you'll die well? I think about this often.

How can we learn to live well? To live well, according to Kara, is to live by faith...to walk daily with God and in His power...to love others and show them mercy. And how then can we learn to die well? Dying well involves trusting God completely....that even if He chooses to allow your life to experience suffering, that you will accept it as His good and perfect will for you...that you will be able to walk humbly with Him through every peak and valley and that you will continue to let your life be a reflection of His love.

Thank you, Kara, for such wonderful, valuable life lessons. Thank you for allowing me to call you friend. Thank you for taking time to answer emails and Facebook messages with silly questions and fearful thoughts when I first found out I had cancer. God used you to minister to my heart and I came to love you as a sister in Christ. Though you are now gone, you will never be forgotten. Your life touched so many and will continue to do so for generations. Rest in His presence, sweet Kara, and one day, we'll meet each other and I can express my gratitude to you personally.

Please pray for Kara's family...her husband, Jason, and her four children - Eleanor Grace, Harper Joy, Lake Edward, and Story Jane as they continue to grieve over their loss.

Kara's family

"So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day." 2 Corinthians 4:16

"Therefore, being always of good courage, and knowing that while we are at home in the body we are absent from the Lord—for we walk by faith, not by sight—we are of good courage, I say, and prefer rather to be absent from the body and to be at home with the Lord." 2 Corinthians 5:6–8



© 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

Change is in the air

I've been blogging daily since June. This morning, I realized it's time for a change...a change not only in my writing habits, but for change in general. I've decided instead of writing daily, I am going to write only once a week. So today, and from this point forward, I will only write on Mondays. If you've been reading my blog daily, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. It means so much to me that you've taken time to stop by and visit each day. I know many of you have read my blog posts and then taken the information I've shared using it to pray for me. Those prayers have been sustaining me so please don't stop, even if I don't post daily. Another reason I've decided not to post daily is for your benefit. Instead of trying to come up with something to write about and possibly boring my readers with trivial posts; I'd rather post once a week and give you lots of good information that will keep you coming back for more. With that being said, I'll begin today's post.

Today, as I sit at my computer, I look out over a chilly, fall morning. Fog hovers over the tree tops wrapping the leaves in a blanket of white. It looks picturesque and still. I love days like this. If I felt better, I'd be hiking right now. Up along a mountain ridge, pack on my back and walking stick in my hand...hearing the familiar crunch of leaves under my feet as I move steadily along. The mountains have been calling me. For days and days, I've heard their gentle wooing. This is the time of year I long to be outside. Just yesterday, in fact, I asked Phil, my husband, if we could drive up to the mountains this weekend, and he, like the good husband he is, said "of course, if I don't have to work next Saturday." My heart was happy to hear his reply and I am already planning our trip.

Just knowing I have the desire to plan something is a sign that I am healing. For months now, everything in my life has revolved around Cancer. My days have been spent going from one doctor's office to another or from one treatment to another, but now, things are changing. Just like the season of Fall, when the leaves are changing, the air turns crisp, and squirrels forage for nuts in preparation for a long hard winter, I can feel a change stirring in my spirit.

The burns from radiation are almost completely healed. There are still faint reminders of that uncomfortable time and they may remain for many more months. I have a wide, deep reddish brown band of color stretching from the center of my breast bone across my chest and around my back. The burns along my neck and collar bone are the most prominent and the least healed, giving me a raw and tender area that needs constant attention. The Silvadene and Radiaplex are doing a good job at soothing the painful burns and I am thankful for those soothing balms.

It will be good to have an entire week without any medical appointments. Maybe I can use this time to catch up on a few art projects I've had lying around or perhaps I'll find a new book to read. I'm supposed to be resting so my body can heal, but it's hard when I want to do so many things.

The swelling in my upper arms is mild upon waking and gets progressively worse throughout the day. This is so frustrating because it impedes my ability to do many physical things. I have the Lymphedema sleeves but I'm not supposed to wear them right now because the fabric rubs against my burned skin and causes irritation. In another few weeks, I hope to be completely healed and will start wearing the compression sleeves and gauntlets daily. While it isn't something I ever expected to have to do, I'm grateful for colorful and fun patterns that help make the sleeves more attractive.

My energy level hasn't returned to normal and that is bothersome. Planning household chores to accomplish each day before noon is a must otherwise they won't get done. There are things I am physically unable to do right now, like cleaning bathtubs and baseboards, but those can wait. That's a huge thing for me to say since I'm such a neat freak and germaphobe. Phil is more than willing to help with any projects, but I try not to ask for his help often. He works hard every day and when he gets home, I just want him to be able to rest and relax.

On the 30th, I'll meet with my Oncologist again. I must admit I am apprehensive about beginning the anti-hormone therapy. The internet can be a dangerous thing, especially for someone with an inquisitive mind. I've Googled every Aromatase inhibitor currently being used for Breast Cancer patients and in particular, I've focused on Arimidex, the one Dr. Feinstein has indicated I will soon be taking. The side effects are scary- fatigue, joint and bone pain, hair loss, severe Osteoporisis, nausea and vomiting, hot flashes, weight gain and more. I have so many questions to ask and am even considering opting out of taking the medication. I would rather have a better quality of life than to spend the next 5 to 10 years in agony.

So, yes, a change is coming. My normal life is gone. And just like the last stanza of Sam Cooke's song, A Change is Gonna Come, I know it's coming quickly. Just like the Fall leaves, which will soon loosen their grip and fall to the ground, I have to let go. Winter is around the corner with its frosty fingertips poised and ready.

This coming Saturday, I'm pulling out my hiking boots and jacket. We'll pack a picnic lunch and take off for the mountains. We'll spend the day tromping through piles of leaves and over fallen logs alongside mountain streams and I will be in heaven! I feel most at peace and closest to God when I am out in the woods alone with Him. My heart will be encouraged and refreshed, and when the day is done, we'll drive back home with happy hearts knowing that change is good...nothing remains the same...a change is gonna come.

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

"There been times that I thought I couldn't last for long
But now I think I'm able to carry on
It's been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will."

Sam Cooke's song: A Change is Gonna Come