What a day

This will be my last post for a few days since tomorrow is the day of my surgery. For any of my Facebook friends, my daughter, Laura, will post a status update and tag me in it so you can see it. I'd like to thank all of you in advance for your love, support, encouragement and prayers. I have been overwhelmed by your kindness. I know that God has placed each and every one of you in my life and for that I am deeply grateful.

What a day today was for me! This morning, I made sure to clean the entire house because I knew I wouldn't be able to do that for a few days and you know how men are...they just don't clean the way we do! After I completed that, hubby and I enjoyed a nice, quiet lunch together. We didn't talk much but that's okay because after being married for as long as we have, even the silences speak volumes.

Laura, her husband, David, and baby Heather came to see us after lunch. What a blessing to have such a sweet distraction. We enjoyed watching Heather as she toddled all over the house. She's so cute since she's finally mastered walking. She even likes to play chase with her daddy as he "runs" around the table, she follows as quickly as she can laughing all the way. I am so thankful for babies!

Soon it was time to head to the hospital for the radioactive lymphatic study. (It has a huge medical name but I can't remember what it is right now.) Oh my goodness! I was not prepared for that. I went to the desk and registered and they immediately took me back. The technician asked me to disrobe and put on a hospital gown with the opening in the front. I thought that a nurse would come in any minute to assist but she never did. The tech told me to lie down on the examination table and open my gown. I was so embarrassed to be lying there totally nude from the chest up. He explained the entire procedure and then told me that he was about to inject lidocaine into my breasts. He said he'd put in two shots of lidocaine in each breast and then he'd inject the radioactive dye. He asked if I was ready and I replied, "not really, but go ahead." Let me tell you, I am not one to use curse words but when he injected the first needle of lidocaine, I just about screamed out a string of obscenities! After having had 4 babies naturally, I think I have a pretty high pain tolerance, but this was really rough! First of all, just the thought of having a needle inserted into your nipple should be enough to make you cringe...but actually feeling it penetrate the skin and then experiencing the burn of the lidocaine...oh my gosh! After the tech numbed me, he injected the radioactive dye. He told me that I'd have to lie on the table for an hour with my arms behind my head while the dye filtered through my lymph nodes. Thankfully, he did give me a warm blanket to cover up with but it wasn't much in the way of consolation for the pain I'd been through.

I lay there for what seemed like forever and finally the tech reappeared and began to run the various scans with the machine. I watched as the radioactive material lit up the screen. He showed me where the concentrations were and told me that he'd have to mark those areas on my body so the doctor would know where the sentinel nodes were when she did surgery. He took a Sharpie and casually marked big black dots on my chest. I was so thankful when he was done and couldn't wait to get out of there.

In an earlier post, I wrote about my desire to make a cast of my bust to keep. Today was the day I had planned to do that. After going to two stores, I finally found one of the pregnancy belly cast kits similar to the one I'd used on my daughter when she was expecting. I was looking forward to getting home and getting it done before I had to pack my suitcase and go to bed. When I got home, I asked my husband if he'd help me do the cast. We lay out all the materials. There was a plastic sheet for covering the floor, surgical gloves to keep your hands clean, petroleum jelly to coat your body so the plaster wouldn't stick to you, plaster strips, and a sanding screen. When everything was set up we began to put the plaster strips on.

We worked and worked with the plaster strips, laying one over the other as instructed. For some reason, the plaster wasn't sticking like it was supposed to do. Then I noticed the black dots the tech had made on my chest were smearing and were almost rubbing off! Oh no! I couldn't let them rub off because if they did, the doctor wouldn't know where to look for the sentinel nodes. Quickly I called my daughter in to help. She dried my skin and reapplied the markings with a Sharpie permanent marker. We waited for those to dry and then scratched the whole bust cast project. I was so disappointed because I had really wanted to have a momento of my breasts to keep. I guess it just wasn't meant to be.

So now I'm packing my bag for the hospital and thinking about how my life is going to change in a few hours. I have no idea what tomorrow holds but I know who holds tomorrow.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Urgent prayer requests

I'm a firm believer that when we pray, God wants us to be specific about our needs. Yes, He is God and He already knows what we need even before we ask, but He does want us to ask. I am asking all of my friends and my blog readers to please pray for the following:

1. Pray for wisdom, direction and guidance for Dr. Nicole Sroka as she operates on me. For God to give her keen eyes and steady hands. 
2. Pray for the anesthesiologist to know the best combination of medicines to give me to put me to sleep and keep me asleep during the entire procedure. That none of the medicines would interfere with my current prescriptions and that I'd not experience any serious side effects from the anesthesia. I'm especially asking you to pray that I do not have any nausea after the surgery. Heaving after having your chest cut wide open would be very painful!
3. Pray that the radioactive dye would illuminate any microscopic cancer cells that might be lurking in my breast tissue or lymph nodes and for anything that needs to be illuminated to stand out like a brilliant glo-stick (sorry, too many grandchildren and that's the only glowing thing I could think of!)
4. Lymphedema is a very painful condition that is quite common after breast surgeries and lymph node removal. Please pray that I do not experience this!
5. Pray that no seromas (pockets of clear fluid that sometimes develop in the body after surgery when small blood vessels are ruptured allowing plasma to seep out and cause inflammation from dying injured cells) or hematomas (blood clots) form. 
6. Pray for no infection to be caused by airborne germs or unclean instruments. Especially pray a hedge of protection around me against any MRSA infections!!!
7. Pray for an overwhelming peace to surround me the morning of my surgery and during my surgery. Surgery starts at 7:30 a.m. but I will be at the hospital at 5:30 a.m. getting hooked up to IVs etc. 
8. Pray for me to wake up with a grateful and thankful heart!
9. Pray for patient and kind nurses who have hearts of mercy. 
10. Pray for a private room so my husband can stay the night with me. 
11. Pray for my husband to experience God's perfect peace as he waits in the waiting room during my surgery. 
12. Pray for my family members, my children, grandchildren, siblings, and my mother. I'm asking that they will see God do a mighty work in my life through this.
13.  Pray for an extra measure of strength for my family members who plan to help me when I come home. 
14. Pray for God to set a guard at my lips so that no unkind word would be spoken after I come home and am in pain. 

That's all I can think of right now but as you pray, if God lays something else on your heart, by all means please pray for it! I won't be blogging for a day or two after this post because of surgery but please know I will continue to keep you updated on the journey as I get my strength back. God bless you for taking time to pray and for being continued supporters. It's so good to know I don't walk this road alone...

©bonnie annis all rights reserved
^"Do not fret or have any anxiety about anything, but in every circumstance and in everything, by prayer and petition (definite requests), with thanksgiving, continue to make your wants known to God." Phillipians 4:6

Radioactive

There's a popular song by Imagine Dragons entitled "Radioactive." It's a catchy tune and has been sung to death on popular singing competition shows like American Idol and The Voice. If you haven't heard it before, listen to it. The tune will get stuck in your head for days!

When my breast surgeon told me that she needed to do testing on my lymph nodes to see if they were cancerous, I listened as she explained the procedure. ..."and then you'll be radioactive for 24 hours." That was the only thing I really remembered her saying. Radioactive. Wow.

On Tuesday, I'll be going to the hospital at 2:30 p.m. I'll enter the Radiology department and tell them I'm there for a lymphocintigraphy. In all honesty, I'm really nervous about this test! Having blue, radioactive dye injected into my breasts doesn't make for a pretty picture. Needles and nipples are two words that should never go together!! I know the doctor wouldn't have ordered this test unless it was necessary, but good grief...how much more torture do I have to endure?

First, I had to be embarrassed to death, baring my boobs in public. Then I had to have them squashed into pancakes over and over again as diagnostic mammograms were done. Next, I had to have a huge turkey baster type needle injected deep into the tissue while a rotary cutting blade took several samples of my tissue. Now I'm going to have to go through the ordeal of having multiple needle sticks injecting radioisotopes into my boobs and on Wednesday morning, I'm going to have the poor things cut off!!! Oh and then, last but not least, I'll have to learn to deal with my "new normal." When I look in the mirror, I won't see the old me any longer. I'll see a body scarred with permanent reminders that Cancer came to ruin my life. Those are just the facts but there's more to the story....

If I hadn't found the mass in my breast, it might have continued growing and spreading eventually invading more and more areas of my body. If I hadn't had the diagnostic mammograms done, the mass would not have been identified as being suspicious. If I hadn't had the core needle biopsy, I wouldn't ever have known that the cells in the mass were malignant. If I didn't have my lymph nodes tested, I'd never know if the Cancer had spread. If I didn't have my breasts removed, the Cancer would continue to grow and thrive inside me. If I didn't look in the mirror, I'd never see that God has been doing an amazing thing.

All of the embarrassment, all of the pain, all of the tests and procedures are parts of a treatment plan that's meant to prolong or even save my life. I'll admit it though, I am weak! It's been hard getting through this. But I am thankful that medical tests have become so advanced they are able to detect early stages of Cancer. Throughout all of it, God is teaching me to be humble and patient. He is leading me down paths I've never known before and I must trust His leading even when I cannot see where the path may go. The trusting part...that part is even harder than any of the tests, than any of the procedures. In my life, God has already proven Himself trustworthy. He has proven that over and over. But this time, He's just increasing my level of trust through all of this; and while I thought my journey was just about over...it's really just beginning! I know that when I admit my weaknesses, His strength shines through!

So I'm willing to be radioactive for 24 hours if that means that the surgeon will be able to see whether or not the Cancer has spread into my lymph nodes. I'm willing to face the embarrassment of having yet another medical technician see my breasts. I'm willing to go through the pain of having needles pierce my tender skin. Of course, I'd rather not if I had the chance to back out but I have to press on. There's a certain song running through my mind right now and I can't help but hum it...Radioactive, Radioactive...welcome to the new age...whoa, oh, oh, oh..... I'm radioactive, radioactive!

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

"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

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