Laughter, the best medicine

Today I watched an online movie called "Decoding Annie Parker." It was a movie based on the true story of Annie Parker, a young woman whose Grandmother, Mother, and Sister all died of Breast Cancer. The story was also about a persistent geneticist, Dr. Marie Claire King, who worked for years trying to discover the link or  the hereditary gene (BRCA1) that may have caused women in the same family to get Breast Cancer. She and Annie worked diligently to find the connection. It was an interesting movie.

My breast surgeon had talked to me at my last visit about testing me for the BRCA1 gene since there was no history of Breast Cancer in my immediate family. She told me that it was important to know if I carried that gene because if I do, there's an 85% chance that one of my daughters will get Breast Cancer at some point in their lives. Those are pretty high odds and I'm scared to have the test done because of them; but I'd rather know and be able to let my girls know just in case they need that information in the future.

Speaking of the future, I'm a pretty practical person, or at least I like to think I am. I'm always planning ahead, making sure things are set in place. Today, my husband and I went to visit our lawyer. A couple of weeks ago, right after receiving my diagnosis, I made an appointment to have him draw up wills for us. (Now don't go thinking I'm planning on dying any time soon because that is NOT the case. I plan on being around a LONG time! I just want to make sure things are in order now so I won't have to worry about them later.) While the attorney was going over the wills with my husband and I, he was discussing stipulations set forth in the will with regard to right of survivorship. He said, "Mrs. Annis let's just say you die first..." I didn't even let him finish his sentence and I burst out laughing. He looked puzzled and I knew I had to explain my behavior and I wanted to make light of the situation at the same time. I said, "well, that actually might be the case since I just recently got a diagnosis of Breast Cancer." You should have seen his face! He turned a bright shade of red and apologized profusely explaining that he was just using that as an example. I told him I knew that but I had to take advantage of a little bit of humor while I could. Humorous moments haven't been too frequent lately and it sure did feel good to laugh! Laughter truly is the best medicine!

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

The meltdowns continue

Today hubby and I had a really great start to the perfect day. He was off work and we had planned to go into town, grab some lunch and do some shopping. Everything was going well until I decided to get my hair cut. I don't know what I was thinking other than if I'm going to have this breast surgery and I'm going to have to go through chemo and radiation, I don't want to deal with having my hair coming out in big clumps. So...I thought I'd be proactive.

We were in the downtown area of a city fairly close to our home but we weren't familiar with any of the shopping centers there. We had to do some scouting around for a hair salon. The first few we went to were closed on Sunday, but we weren't giving up just yet. My husband is so sweet! He always offers to go the extra mile especially when he knows it will make me happy. We continued on with the help of the GPS and found an upscale salon that was open. Surely they'd be able to take a "walk in" and make me look stunning.

I went into the salon with high hopes but as I approached the receptionist's desk, I felt a flood of emotions welling up inside me and no matter how hard I tried to keep the dam of tears from bursting, I couldn't keep it together. Like a blubbering idiot, I tried to explain to the receptionist that I needed a haircut. I'm sure she wondered what kind of nut job had walked into their salon and I'm so thankful there were no other clients there at the time. I managed to calm down a little and told her that I had just recently been diagnosed with Breast Cancer and I wanted to get my hair cut short before my surgery and treatments. She looked at the computer and told me they were completely booked up. Without groveling, I asked her if there was anyone who could just do a wet cut...just a pixie...I'd be glad to dry it myself at home. No deal. She apologized profusely and I asked if she knew anywhere else I could go.As we walked to the car, I had a major meltdown. Hubby did his best to console me and after about twenty minutes, I was able to recompose myself.

On we drove and finally we arrived back in our home town. We were sitting in the car in front of the salon the receptionist had referred us to, I was hesitant to go in for fear of another melt down. Hubby encouraged me and off we went. The wait was just a few minutes and the stylist was very pleasant and kind. After asking me what type of cut I wanted, I explained my situation to her. I was thankful there were no tears this time. She was very understanding and we began to talk about what Cancer feels like...she'd found three lumps in her breast earlier in the week. I encouraged her to go see her doctor immediately.

I watched as she cut my hair. She took her time to make sure everything was symmetrical and even. She never hurried and made sure to ask me all throughout the cut if it was what I wanted. Inches of hair fell from my head as she continued around to the back. Oh my...look at all the gray hair under there! I was watching my face in the mirror and wondering to myself...is this the face of Cancer? I looked at my best features, my eyes and my smile and wanted to scream NO! I am not the face of Cancer. I will not be the face of Cancer.

She finished up the hair cut and pulled out some styling wax...wow my hair was short! Gingerly, she moved the warm wax through my hair pulling out sections to make it piece-y and trendy. "Oh go ahead and wreck it up!" I said, "I'm going to do that when I get home anyway. Put a little funk into it!" She smiled and did as I asked. Handing me the mirror, she spun the chair around so I could peek at the back. It was cute, but super short. All I could think was at least there won't be much to fall out when it comes time for chemo.

I paid her and thanked her as we walked out of the shop. Running my fingers through my super short crop, I wondered if I'd made the right decision. I love, love, love long hair and now mine was less than 2 inches long. I asked my husband if I looked like a man. He smiled and said, "no! You're beautiful...always have been...always will be." I asked him if he just said that because he knew that's what I needed to hear and he assured me that he hadn't. I sure do love that man! I think we're going to make it through this and I think we're going to be okay.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

The reward of persistence

I'm a very determined person. When I set my mind on something, I do whatever it takes to accomplish it. Some people might even call that being "hard headed" or "stubborn" but any way you see it, that's just the way I am. Yesterday, my persistence paid off.

Since receiving my diagnosis of Cancer, I've been on the emotional ride of a lifetime. I've experienced the deep downward spiral of depression, the little hills of hope, and then I've sped through the twists and turns of all the confusion associated with upcoming surgeries, treatments, and doctor's appointments. It's been mind bending! My poor husband has held on tight for the ride as he's journeyed along with me these past few weeks."I need a break," I told him through tear filled eyes. "I need to be at the beach." He looked at me, through eyes of love, and said, "let's go."

Little did I know that one of my daughters had already been scouring the internet trying to help make my dream come true. She's spent hours trying to find the perfect spot for us, but trying to plan an impromptu vacation on a holiday weekend was not easy. Each condo she tried to reserve had already been booked. She tried so hard but soon became discouraged. She knows me very, very well and knew how desperately I wanted to go. She knew I needed to be at the beach. So after a valiant effort, she passed the trip planning on to me.To make a long story short, it took some doing but I was able to find a lovely B & B just off the beach. I called to make the reservation late last night. "You're lucky! It's our last room," the innkeeper said. "I'm not lucky, I'm blessed," I replied.

I can't describe how much being at the beach means to me. It's not about standing in the warm, wet sand and wiggling my toes. It's not about sitting for hours watching the repetitive motion of the waves as they rush in to shore. It's not about watching the sun rise or set. For me, it's just where I feel closest to God. Oh sure, I see Him in all the beauty of nature that the beach holds....the tiny Cocina shells, the flocks of sea gulls, even the salty sea breeze; but there's so much more to it than that. When I stand on the shore, I feel so very small and God is so very big. Even in those moments, I feel His heartbeat. I know He's with me. That is why I need to go to the beach. I need to be alone with God for a while.

In Matthew 11:28, there's a wonderful verse that says "Come to me all you who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest." I'm going to the beach to find rest for my soul. I want to release all the fear and worry and dread associated with Cancer. I want to relinquish the control over my life to my Creator. And yes, I can do this any place, at any time, because I know that God is always with me...but for me, right now, I need to do it at the beach. I think God knows my heart better than anyone. He knows exactly what I need and I think, like the loving Father He is, that He's probably up there smiling down at me right now. Going to the beach isn't that big of a deal for some...in fact, they probably go once or twice a year like I always have in the past. But this trip, this time, is special. It's my time to rest my head in my Daddy's lap and cry. As He strokes my head and whispers reassurance to me, I'll find peace. As the waves crash against the shore and the sea breeze washes over me, I'll be freed from all that is weighing me down right now. And while I wish I could stay at the beach forever, I'll return home feeling empowered and lightened and loved.

So on Independence day, I'll head for the shore. After three days there, I'll return to have radioactive dye injected into my breasts and the following day, I'll have them removed along with several lymph nodes in my arm. As I lie on the operating table, before they put me under, I just know I'm going to hear the call of the shore birds echoing in my mind and then, I'll drift off to the smell of the salty sea air...after all, the beach is and always has been the very best medicine for me.

© Bonnie Annis all rights reserved

I just can't stop

Today, I woke up at the crack of dawn. In my bare feet, I pad quietly into my office and flip on my laptop. The main screen pops up and I sit down. I pull up my search engine and type in "Invasive Ductal Carcinoma." For the past week, I've been obsessed. For hours on end, I sit in front of the computer Googling this specific form of Breast Cancer.

There's so much information out there. I read medical reports and then I venture into the world of Breast Cancer blogs. Women all over the country are writing about their journeys.  I read a blog about a young 26 year old and cry. She's the same age as my youngest daughter. As I read her story, I marvel at her strength. How can she be so wise and so resilient when I am so scared and so rigid?

I read a while and realize that our stories aren't so very different. Every blog I read starts with "I'm still in shock, or I just can't believe it." Each blog is raw and honest, filled with emotion. Although I don't know these ladies personally, I feel like we're related in some unique way. We all have questions. We all need answers.

Soon I tire of reading blogs and jump over to YouTube to watch a few videos. I find another woman's video blog. Her video is about the last days of her life...she has stage 4 cancer and has been fighting for years. I watch it for about thirty minutes and then I can't watch it any longer...it's too depressing. She has no hope. She's already resigned herself to the fact that this disease is going to take her life and that's just the way it is. She talks about her family a lot in the video but never once mentions her faith. To me, that is so very sad. If only she had faith in God...her perspective might be very different. Her prognosis might be different too.

Medical videos are next. I start looking up Sentinel node removal and mastectomies. For some reason, I just want to see exactly how these surgeries are going to be performed. I feel better knowing. I don't like surprises. I want to be informed.

As I read, time slips quickly away.  I've been in front of the computer for 4 and a half hours. Why can't I stop? It's like I'm obsessed with knowing everything I can about this disease. I have to make myself turn off the computer and walk away.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Pity Party

Yesterday was not a very good day! It started off with a trip to the dentist and oh, how I hate going to the dentist. Just the sound of the drill gives me the willies! But I made it through unscathed.

As I was leaving the dentist's office, I received a call from the surgeon's office. "Everything has all been set up," she said in a chipper voice, "but before your surgery, you'll have several other appointments. You'll need to meet with the surgical nurse to make sure you understand all the details of your surgery and during that time, she'll make sure you know how to operate the surgical drains they're going to place in your chest - there will be 4 of them, 2 on each side. You'll have to learn how to drain them several times a day and record the measurements of the fluid from each one. You'll have a pre-op visit at the hospital where they'll do blood work, chest x-rays, an EKG, and lots of paperwork. You'll visit the radiology lab and have radioactive blue dye inserted into both of your breasts, and then...you'll go to the hospital at 6 a.m. (without food or drink) and have your surgery done which will take anywhere from 4 to 6 hours. After that, you'll stay overnight in the hospital for observation." Whew! My head was spinning!

As I continued to drive, I felt a little sorry for myself. The more I drove on, my feeling sorry for myself turning into a full blown pity party! The closer I got to home, the more determined I was to justify my pity party by rewarding myself with something I love....ICE CREAM! So I did. I stopped at the store, went inside and bought a pint of one of my favorite flavors of ice cream, mint chocolate chip. I was so desperate to eat it that I even bought a pack of heavy duty plastic spoons (you know a regular one would break off in the solidly frozen ice cream and I didn't want that to happen!) and got back in my car. I could hardly wait to break open the seal and dig in.

Have you ever felt that way? Have you ever faced a myriad of stressful events or problems that plunged you deep into self pity? It's so easy for us to justify having a pity party isn't it? After all, our human logic sets up a scale of internal balances carefully measuring out whether all is right in the world or if we're being slighted. When we feel like we've come up on the short end of the stick, we often exhibit strange behavior...women go on shopping sprees or eating binges, men slam their fists into walls or ram the accelerator down to the floor in frustration and more often than not, we wallow like fat little piggies in the cool, slimy mud of raw self pity.

And we're not alone! We certainly aren't the only ones who've ever enjoyed our own little pity parties. Even in Biblical times, pity parties were prevalent. Look at Elijah! At one of the low moments in his life, he crawled under a broom tree and cried out for God to kill him! "I've had enough," he told the Lord, "take away my life. I've got to die sometime and it might as well be now!" (from the living Bible translation) And then, look at Paul...boy, if anyone had a right to a pity party it was Paul. He'd been beaten, stoned, shipwrecked, emprisoned, starved...wow. But Paul didn't throw himself a pity party. He reacted in totally the opposite way.

Paul learned to be content in his circumstances, whatever they might have been at the time. He said, "Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong." And do you know why he was able to say this? It's because God had spoken to him earlier and said, "My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness."

I realized several things after I'd eaten that pint of ice cream. First of all, I had just stuffed my feelings! Second, I had just ingested about 300 calories! Third, my having a pity party was a sin. The pity I was feeling for myself was unfounded. Sure, Satan wanted me to justify it and quantify it by weighing out all the unpleasantries that I had recently experienced and would soon experience in the very near future...but God didn't want me to look at things that way. He wanted me to realize that no matter what He allows me to go through, His grace will carry me. He wanted me to understand that yes, it's okay for me to feel weak but when I am feeling that way, His strength is more than I could ask for and it's there to help me through anything.

Oh yes! That mint chocolate chip ice cream tasted divine! It did melt away my sorrows for a few minutes but I realized that God's grace is so much more delectable and it isn't even fattening!

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

^"Then he went on alone into the wilderness, traveling all day, and sat down under a broom bush and prayed that he might die. “I’ve had enough,” he told the Lord. “Take away my life. I’ve got to die sometime, and it might as well be now." 1 Kings 19:4

^"Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in privations, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake; for when I am weak, then am I strong." 2 Corinthians 12:10

"But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me." 2 Corinthians 12:9
 

The Ocean's calling...

For days now I've had a deep yearning in my spirit, an unrest like no other. The only way I can describe it is an empty hollowness that I know so well. It comes when I am full of fear, when I'm feeling far away from God and when this feeling comes, I know what to do.Waves of fear have been washing over me for a couple of weeks now. They come and they go, rushing in and out. Sometimes they're shallow, tiny waves and other times they are huge, magnificent ones that engulf me.

The ocean has always been a place of solitude for me. Every year, I've made a special point to go and just sit on the beach watching and waiting. God always speaks to my heart at the beach. Maybe it's the huge expanse of sky that overshadows me there....maybe it's the vastness of the sea. I always feel closest to God when I'm on the beach. There's nothing else like it. The spray of the salt water in my hair, the warmth of the sun on my face, the sound of crashing waves, the constant call of shorebirds...oh how I love it!

But lately, I've been drowning in a sea of fear and worry. Cancer has washed over me with a powerful vengeance. I've been caught in the undertow of hopelessness. I've been struggling to break free and swim to shore.

Last night, I listened closely to the lyrics of one of my favorite songs by Hillsong. The song is appropriately titled "Oceans, where feet may fail." As I listened to it, my soul was poured into...I felt a sweet release.

In all of my blog posts, I try to be open and honest with my readers. I want them to feel what I feel through carefully chosen words that I write. I want them to understand my heart and know not only my pain, but also my deep faith in God. This song, Oceans- where feet may fail, embodies where I am right now. I'm surrounded by the deep waters of the unknown regarding my health. But while I stand in the midst of swirling waters, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am not alone. I know that Jesus is right beside me, holding onto me, and He won't let go. He's brought me here, you see. He has a purpose for me to step out into the deep. He wants me to look deep into His eyes as the waters rise and trust Him. He's been there for me all along. He always has and always will be with me. He's proven Himself faithful through the years and He knows me oh so well. He knows when I struggle against the tide. He patiently waits for me to lean back, relax, and just let the water carry me.

I've had a few rough days lately, I'll admit. I've felt the ocean calling. If there were any place I'd rather be right now than in Georgia, it's at the beach. I keep praying that I can find a way to go before my surgery and all the treatments begin, there isn't much time to pull it together...but I'm trying to make it happen. I need to be there.

Please take time to watch the video I've embedded in this post. It's about 9 minutes long but it will bless you and help you understand what I'm feeling. I think God creates a deep longing in our souls when He knows we need Him most...He woos us and bids us to come. He wants us to find that place of solace that only He can give. As the waves crash the shore, the deeper waters are still and calm. He's standing there with arm outstretched, waiting for me...

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Oceans - Where feet may fail by Hillsong

Surgery

I just got the phone call, my surgery date has been set for July 9. While I'm glad to finally know when the actual date will be, I'm also very scared. For some reason, the reality of it never really sunk in...I kept telling everyone that I had been diagnosed with Cancer and they all grasped the concept well but I didn't. For some reason, it's always been like that. Whenever I've heard any disturbing news, I've gone into some sort of protective mode...I guess that's what they call shock.

I don't know why it always takes a while for things to really "sink in" for me, especially when they involve me. Now that I have the date it makes it very real to me. I just looked at the calendar and that means I only have 21 days left with my body in a whole state...to have my body with my "boobs." I can't imagine not having them. I mean, I was really angry when I started developing them when I was in my early teens. I was such a tom boy and only thought of them as nuisances that would get in the way as I played football with the neighborhood boys. As I grew older, I realized they were an asset. They certainly drew attention from the boys and although I wasn't large chested, I had enough to signify my femininity. When I started having my children, they were a necessity to breast feed them with but now, they are broken...sick...diseased.

Is it wrong to mourn the loss of body parts? Does it matter that they're not as noticeable as a lost arm or leg would be? No, I don't need my "boobs" to function in daily life, but they are part of me and I'm going to feel lost without them.

And what do they do with all the breasts that are removed in daily surgeries? I know the pathologists divide and mutilate and take tissue samples. They slide pieces and parts of them under microscope lenses and marvel at the complicated intricacies they find. But when they're through with them, where do those appendages go? Are they just thrown into a huge red bio hazard bin? I'm not trying to be morbid here really.

So I have 21 days to feel like a whole woman and then, I won't. That's being pretty cut and dry, I know but let's be honest here, none of you are reading my blog because of the exciting Breast Cancer stories I tell. There's nothing wonderful or exciting involved with Cancer of any kind. You're reading it because you care about me, because you know me now or have known me in the past. Or maybe it's because you know someone who knows me. Maybe it's because you have already been touched by Cancer in your life or the life of someone close to you and you understand how difficult the journey will be. Maybe you're just reading it because someone pointed you my way and you're curious and glad that it isn't you with the diagnosis of Cancer looming over you. You're probably reading this because you want to try to understand all of the insanity associated with Cancer. More than likely you really want to help but don't know what to say or do. You want to make sure I am not falling to pieces and that I am not defined by my Breast Cancer.

Don't worry about me, really. I'm not going to sugar coat this. I'm going to cut to the chase. I won't be feeling optimistic all the time. It's sad to say, but we are multidimensional and Cancer throws a huge monkey wrench into the lives of the ones it chooses. I may not always write from my head with careful consideration for the thoughts of others. I may not write from my heart with love and compassion and caring. I may just throw it out there and let the chips fall where they may....whatever I decide to do and however I decide to do it, I'll share with you but be forewarned - I'm learning to be brave through my own beautiful mistakes.

Am I nervous...no! I'm scared to death! I've had many surgeries before so I know how it goes...all the bloodwork and tests...all the forms to fill out...redundant questions...poking, proding...yeah. I've been there and done that. This time I'm older and wiser and no, I don't know what the days ahead will hold, but I do know that I have 21 days of normalcy before the insanity begins. I intend to savor every second of the next 21 days. I'll probably do a lot crying. I know I'll do a lot of praying. And after it's all said and done, I'm going to wear a new badge of courage and I'll join the many other women who are surviving not necessarily because they had to, but because they WANTED to! I really, really, really do want to live.

© Bonnie Annis all rights reserved