Bye Bye Boobies

Today was our last day at the beach and I wanted to come to terms with the fact that in just a few days I would be losing both breasts. The trip was supposed to help me take my mind off of the surgery and to some point it did, but I couldn't help but think about how drastically my life was about to change.

If I'd had my best friends with me, I'd have had a goodbye party for my breasts but since I was on a public beach, I had to think of a more discreet way to tell them goodbye. What could I do that wouldn't alert others to my secret goodbye ceremony?

The only thing I could think of was to write" bye bye boobies" in giant letters in the sand. I took off one of my sandals and used the edge of it as a writing tool. I carefully wrote out each letter and placed them high on the beach above the water line. As I was writing, I became very emotional.

I stood back to admire my completed work. I had even drawn a breast cancer ribbon beside the words. There. It was done. I'd acknowledged my sadness by simply writing in the sand. I sat down in my beach chair and cried. I could see the words I'd written clearly in front of me.

People walked past my sandy sign but only one of them stopped to read it. A young woman in a hot pink beach cover-up...she glanced at me and nodded as if she understood completely. A few minutes later, a huge wave washed up on the shore totally erasing my words. It's hard to describe how I felt at that moment. I was upset that my words were washed away but I also felt relief at not seeing them any longer. Just as quickly as I'd written the words now they were gone. It will be like that on Wednesday, I thought to myself...one minute I had breasts and the next I wouldn't. And did it really matter? Would anyone stop and notice? Probably not. Unless of course, like the lady on the beach, perhaps a fellow cancer survivor, someone might just pause and take it in with a deep understanding, with a heart of compassion.

And just like that, my party was over. I'd finished my grieving and now have moved into acceptance mode. It doesn't negate the loss or the pain, it's just time to move on. After all, the writing's on the wall now and not in the sand...

©bonnie annis all rights reserved
..

A tiny grain of sand

Today as I walked along the beach, the sand was dry and hot along the upper rim. It reflected the sun making the 90+ degree weather seem even hotter. As I moved closer to the water, the sand was wet and tightly packed providing much needed coolness to my bare feet. Walking along the water's edge, I enjoyed a wonderful ocean breeze. Although it was still hot; I barely noticed it because the wind was constantly blowing. I walked for hours. My body grew tired and thirsty. Instead of continuing on, I decided to rest and return later in the evening.

Back at the hotel, I washed my sandy feet and climbed in bed for an afternoon nap. I tried to sleep but couldn't because something felt like it was in my toes. Apparently a tiny grain of sand had gotten wedged in between my little toe and the one next to it. It irritated me so much that I had to get up and wash my feet again to remove the culprit. He could such a tiny thing bother me so much?

As I headed back to bed, I began to think about the way God uses little things that irritate us to teach valuable lessons like patience. He can use those minor irritations in our lives to bring about much needed change.

On the beach that day, I had passed many beautiful sea shells. Among the pretty ones, there were also some ugly ones like the oyster shell. On the outside, it has no pretty markings. It's just very plain and somewhat deformed. But an oyster is quite unique. It yields one of the most prized gems, the pearl.

A pearl is formed when an irritant becomes embedded in an oyster's shell lining. Instead of trying to rid itself of the problem, the oyster secretes layer upon layer of a protective coating which ultimately becomes a beautiful pearl. How something so wondrous emerges from an oyster's way of protecting itself is one of nature's loveliest surprises.

The grain of sand between my toes really bothered me...but not as badly as the horrible, cancerous tumor growing inside me. On Wednesday, the surgeon will remove it because if left inside me, it would multiply and spread. It wouldn't produce anything beneficial on it's own but, God can use this minor irritation, this disruption in my life, to help me focus on a greater good. I can see it as a gift that causes me to look for the "pearl" in my pain. Will I choose to only look at the Cancer as an irritant, complaining every day or will I layer positivity over it enveloping it in cocoon of hope?

Yes, I'll admit this Cancer isn't something I ever expected, it's a huge irritation, just like that little piece of sand cutting the inside of my toes but since it's not where I can personally remove it, I'll have to coat it with thin layers of expectant hope. In the days to come, I will be looking for how God can use it in my life to reveal a beautiful thing.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Looking down at my feet

A friend recently told me to look down at my feet every day and wherever I am, to be in that moment. As I thought about her statement, I realized that I don't do this very often. In fact, I rarely ever look down at my feet.

When I looked down at my feet today, they were sinking in cool, wet sand as a wave of ocean water washed up over them. I am at the beach, one of my favorite places to be. While I am here, at this very moment, I am grateful. I am grateful to be standing in the warm summer sun watching the waves roll in one after another. The snow white sand glistens and I can't help but think of diamonds sparkling. Their silver shiny beauty captivating me and holding my gaze for what seems to be an eternity.

My feet sink a little deeper and the cool smoothness cradles my feet making me feel safe and secure. I stand without moving, afraid I'll break the spell I'm under. The longer I stand, the deeper I sink as the waves rush in and out around my ankles. I look down at my feet again and I can't see the tops of them any longer. They are buried in a grave of soft silt. I wiggle my toes and set them free, my feet are dirty but happy.

I walk along the shore and watch as my feet make prints in the sand. My toes are well defined but my arch is high and almost disappears. My feet are small and my steps are uniform. I try to walk in a straight line. Shore birds flit to the side of me, I watch them from the corner of my eye. It's hard to stay focused on my feet for very long, but I try.

The more I look at my feet, the less I think about other things. I am keenly focused on my present surroundings. My friend was right. If I look at my feet, I can't help but be present in the moment. And right now, I am far from home on a bright sunny shore listening to the constant rise and fall of the tide. I am walking with no destination in mind. I'm walking, just because I want to...I am here and I am happy.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Reality sets in

Everything is done...the blood work, the chest xrays, the EKG, massive amounts of paperwork and now I'm realizing that this is not a dream. In less than a week, I will have both breasts removed. I am grieving. Is it odd to be grieving the loss of parts of  your body? Perhaps if I were losing my arms it would be more appropriate to grieve...or maybe my legs, would that give more validity to my mourning? But breasts...that's a different story.

Just typing the word breasts makes me embarrassed. I've always been very private about my body even going so far as going into my walk in closet to change clothes. Maybe I'm a prude, but I just don't let people see my breasts...ever... but now, more people have seen my breasts than I could ever have imagined! Oh yes, I'm still shy and embarrassed but when medical staff need to see them, what can I do?

Maybe it's silly of me to be so protective of them. I'm sure most women aren't as timid as I am about their bodies. Next week, I'll be so thankful I'm under general anesthesia because I don't think I could bear the thought of dozens of medical staff gawking at my boobs. They aren't anything to gawk at...really! I am definitely not well endowed! If I were, maybe I wouldn't mind as much. Maybe I'd be proud to show off the ladies! But these girls are mine! I want to hold on to them and protect them. I have less than one week left with them and I am sad.

This is my plan...I'm going to memorialize them. When my middle daughter was pregnant with her first child, I took strips of plaster and wrapped her swollen belly with them giving us a permanent memory of her first pregnancy. I took the plaster cast, after it dried, and spent days sanding it and sealing it with gesso. Next, I painted a lovely mural on it of childlike butterflies and bees, caterpillars and other insects all in beautiful pastel colors. When I was done, I made a place to add the baby's vital statistics and after the baby was born, I added those and sealed the whole thing with clear polyurethane. I added lovely pink satin ribbons and presented it to my daughter with pride. She was so tickled to receive it and one day, when Heather is old enough, my daughter will show her the "shell" in which she lived for 9 months. So why can't I do the same thing for my breasts? I won't display it for others to see, it will be for my own viewing. I'll make a cast of them and one day after my mastectomies, when I'm feeling strong enough, I'll take the cast down and decorate it. As I do, I'll remember how embarrassed I was as a young pre-teen when I first started developing. I'll remember how my breasts swelled and filled with milk as I was preparing to give birth to my first child. I'll remember how I loved to hold my grandchildren close to my breast as I rocked them to sleep and I'll remember the horrible day I was in the shower and felt the hard mass, the one that I'd find out later was Cancer.

Yes, that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to make a plaster cast of my breasts. If you're reading this and thinking I'm strange, well maybe I am. I just know I have to do this for me. It's just part of the grieving process and although I haven't lost them yet, I know I soon will. Is it silly to cry over losing my breasts, maybe so. But this is just something I feel the need to do.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Thankful Thursday

Today I won't write anything "heavy," I'll just use today's post to tell the things for which I'm most thankful. There are so many, many things for which I'm thankful, but here are a few of today's highlights:

• I am thankful that I woke up this morning!
• I'm thankful for my daughter, Laura, and her willingness to go with me to doctor's appointments and be my cheerleader. She never complains and it's really difficult for her to pack up her little one and disrupt their schedules, so I really, really appreciate it!
• I'm thankful for my new internet friend, Karen, who has also survived Breast Cancer. She is so optimistic and encouraging. She gives me a heads up on what to expect. She doesn't sugar coat things but tells it like it is...I'm thankful she's REAL!
• I'm thankful for my friend, Connie, who emailed me a detailed list of important information regarding what's coming after surgery. She's already been there and done that so she can give me information no one else can give.
• I'm thankful for unexpected emails that offer kind words and words of hope.
• I'm thankful for an anonymous card I received in the mail telling me I was being prayed over.
• I'm thankful for my nurse navigator, Stephanie Martin, who calls periodically to check up on me.
• I'm thankful for the medical staff at Piedmont in Fayetteville. They were so kind to me today as I had my pre-op testing done. 
• I'm thankful for the Truett's Luau (a really cool Chickfila restaurant with a Hawaiian theme). We had a fun lunch there today after my testing and they even gave me a PINK lei!
• I'm thankful my sweet husband, Phil, who tells me I'm beautiful every day (and he has done this for the 21 years we've been married!)
• I'm thankful for my many Facebook friends who support me daily.
• I'm thankful for the ladies of Peachtree City Seventh Day Adventist Church (I don't even belong to that church!) who lovingly made little heart pillows to protect my chest from the seat belt on the way home from the hospital.
• I'm thankful for being able to laugh and be silly to with my little granddaughter, Heather. She is such a delight and my heart overflows with joy because of her!
• I'm thankful I was able to enjoy cutting the grass in the hot sun. 
• I'm thankful for pizza night and not having to cook, but also for my hubby who lovingly went to pick it up for us!
• I'm thankful for our mini vacation to the beach (we leave in the morning at 5 a.m.)
• And last but not least, for God's love, mercy, and grace...He never leaves me alone and I'm so thankful I am His daughter. He reminds me daily of all the many things I have to be thankful for and in His Word my soul finds rest. 

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

One step is enough

As a child, I used to love to watch Jacques Cousteau, a renowned oceanographer. I was always intrigued as he'd put on all of his diving gear and then, just at the moment he was about to flip over the edge of the boat into the water, he'd grab his face mask and hold it tightly so no water would enter. I wanted to be a deep sea diver! I thought it would be so awesome to venture into the undersea world and explore. Just to think of the beautiful and varied sea creatures amid the tangle of sea weed makes me smile. But amid the striking colors of the clown fish, the mandarin fish, and the lion fish are the ugly, steely gray sharks! My fascination with the undersea world stops there. While they are interesting to see, I would never want to chance meeting one face to face!

The first thought that came to mind this morning was that Cancer is like trudging along the bottom of the ocean floor in a lead deep sea diving suit. I remember watching Jacques being helped into one of those cumbersome suits on the ABC television show, The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau, back in 1968. Though I was a young girl at the time, I was captivated as I sat glued to the TV. I watched intently as Jacques was lowered deep onto the ocean floor and I chewed my fingers as I watched him lift first one leg and then the other to move slowly and deliberately across the ocean bottom. Each step he took brought up a cloud of ocean debris as the heavy lead boot hit the sand beneath him. I could almost feel the effort he was using to move through the water. His movements were very animated but no matter how difficult it was, he kept putting one foot in front of the other. 

Getting through this Cancer journey is the same way for me. Daily I have to choose to put one foot in front of the other and move forward. I am learning to rely on my faith to move me through the deep, unknown waters of this disease. I can't focus on the entire journey...one step is enough. I have to learn to look down at my feet and realize that where I am at that very moment is where my focus has to be. I'm learning to trust God for each step of the journey along the way. Some steps may be baby steps and other steps may be giant steps, but with Him I'm always moving forward in faith. Though murky waters surround me and I am unable to see clearly, I will press on because I know I am never alone. 

Faith is like learning to swim. If you struggle in the water, you'll sink and most likely drown. If you just lean back and relax, you'll float and the water will lift your weight effortlessly to the top. With God's help, I'm going to stop swimming against the tide in a school of fear and learn to float on faith in Him. Then I can marvel at all He's doing in my life at the moment instead of feeling weighed down by the magnitude of this disease. 

Your prayers will be my regulator. A diver cannot breathe directly out of the tank because the high pressure would damage his lungs therefore, the cylinder is fitted with a regulator. The regulator does two things: It reduces the pressure from the tank to a safe level for inhalation, and it supplies air on-demand. If I try to ingest the full scope of this Cancer, I'll choke, so please cover me daily in prayer. Pray that I will learn to let go and float instead of sinking due to my struggling. Pray that my faith will increase as God guides me along the way. For your help, I'll be eternally grateful. I can't get through this alone. 

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

^"For our light, momentary affliction (this slight distress of the passing hour) is ever more and more abundantly preparing and producing and achieving for us an everlasting weight of glory [beyond all measure, excessively surpassing all comparisons and all calculations, a vast and transcendent glory and blessedness never to cease!], Since we consider and look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen; for the things that are visible are temporal (brief and fleeting), but the things that are invisible are deathless and everlasting. 2 Corinthians 4:17-18

"For we walk by faith [we regulate our lives and conduct ourselves by our conviction or belief respecting man’s relationship to God and divine things, with trust and holy fervor; thus we walk] not by sight or appearance." 2 Corinthians 5:7 (Amplified Bible)

Sounds FISH-Y to me

Today I received a call from my nurse navigator (an oncology nurse assigned to me during all of my Cancer surgeries, treatments, etc. She told me a little bit of good news involving my recent FISH test. The FISH test (Fluorescence In Situ Hybridization) is a test that “maps” the genetic material in a person’s cells. This test can be used to visualize specific genes or portions of genes. FISH testing is done on breast cancer tissue removed during biopsy to see if the cells have extra copies of the HER2 gene. The more copies of the HER2 gene that are present, the more HER2 receptors the cells have. These HER2 receptors receive signals that stimulate the growth of breast cancer cells.
The FISH test results will tell you that the cancer is either “positive” or “negative” for Her2/neu.

HER2/neu (human epidermal growth factor receptor 2), is a protein that appears on the surface of some breast cancer cells. It is an important part of the cellular pathway for growth and survival.

• HER2/neu-positive (HER2+) tumors have many HER2/neu genes inside the cancer cells (also called HER2/neu over-expression) and a large amount of HER2/neu protein on the surface of the cancer cells
• HER2/neu-negative (HER2-) tumors have few HER2/neu genes inside the cancer cells and little or no HER2/neu protein on the surface of the cancer cells

About 15 to 20 percent of breast cancers are HER2+. These breast cancers tend to be more aggressive than other tumors. HER2/neu status helps guide your treatment plan. My tumor is Her2/neu negative which is good news because it means that my tumor has fewer HER2/neu genes inside of it and the cancer is less aggressive than those that are HER2/neu positive! YAY FOR ME!!! (it's a small celebration but I'll take any I can get at this point!)

I also received the report on my hormone receptor status. Hormone receptors are proteins found inside some cancer cells. When hormones (estrogen and progesterone) attach to these receptors, they make the cancer cells grow.

• Estrogen and progesterone receptor-positive (ER+ and PR+) tumors have many hormone receptors
• Estrogen and progesterone receptor-negative (ER- and PR-) tumors have few or no hormone receptors

The hormone receptor status guides the treatment plan. My tumor is ER+ and PR+, (estrogen and progesterone positive which means those hormones stimulate the Cancer and cause it to grow.) Doctors need to know what stimulates the tumor to grow so they can interrupt the stimulants by using hormone therapies, such as tamoxifen or aromatase inhibitors, chemotherapy, and radiation.

I won't know my exact course of treatment until the surgery is performed and the lymph node biopsies come back from pathology. But thankfully we have these various tests and tools to help the doctors know best how to fight my individual Cancer cells.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved