Sensory overload

Today we celebrated my youngest granddaughter's first birthday. It was a small party with just family members, so there were less than twenty people there. When I first went into the club house, I found a table along the back of the room and decided to sit there in hopes that no one would pay much attention to me. I didn't want people crowding around me and asking all about my health when Heather was the one who was supposed to be the center of attention. For a little while, my plan worked. I sat with my husband and we waited for the other guests to arrive.

As more and more people filed in, some of them wandered over to my table. I felt unsure of myself and wanted to slide under the table. I had made sure to wear a patterned blouse to keep my hollowed out chest from being so visible. Small talk ensued and we skirted around my health for several minutes until my ex father in law began to ask me questions. He was genuinely concerned so I didn't mind answering his questions. The only problem was that he was hard of hearing so I had to raise my voice in order to project my answers loud enough for him to hear. The room was filled with various conversations but when I explained to him that I'd be starting radiation in a few days, everyone stopped talking. I guess they couldn't help but hear our conversation since I was having to speak a few decibels above my normal tone.

Soon the party began and attention was shifted to the baby. She was so cute in her little 1st birthday tiara. Everyone in the room was smiling as we watched her eat her little birthday cupcake. Her dimpled little hands moved hesitantly to touch the frosting on the cupcake but after the first taste, she was eager to reach for more.

Next came the gift giving. We all "ooh-ed" and "ahh-ed" over the each gift. Little Heather was sitting quietly on her Mommy's lap and could have cared less about the cute little outfits she received. She was, however, very interested in the packaging on a little musical remote control she received. I watched intently from the back of the room and savored each precious moment of joy before me. The longer I sat, the more self conscious I became. I needed to use the restroom but didn't want to get up and go across the room because I would have to pass in front of many people and I didn't want them looking at my chest...so I stayed seated.

The party ended and the people began to dissipate. I finally felt like it was okay for me to stand up and walk around the room. I slipped quietly to the restroom and was relieved that no one paid attention to me because they were all saying their goodbyes to Heather. When I came back to the room, it was empty except for one of the employees of the apartment complex who was busy locking up the doors to the clubhouse. As I looked around the room, I could almost hear the laughter from just a few moments before. I wondered to myself how long it would be before I felt like laughing again. I hadn't laughed at all today. I walked to the car and climbed inside. As my husband and I pulled away from the curb, I began to cry. I think it had just been too much today. My senses had been taxed. I felt like an autistic child in a room full of sensory stimuli...it was too much. I wanted to stand in a corner and bang my head repeatedly against the wall. Why was I so sensitive? Why was I so emotional? Why was I crying right now?

My husband reached over and took my hand and told me it was going to be okay. He knew I was exhausted because this was my first social function since surgery. He began to drive out of the parking lot and as he did, he said, "why don't you lie back and take a little nap on the way home?" He knows I have a hard time relaxing, but it was a good thought. I decided to give it a try.

For the first thirty minutes, all I could do was lie there with my eyes closed. Conversations and moments from the party continually looped through my mind. I tried to focus on something else but couldn't. The longer I lay there, the more I began to relax my muscles and soon, I found myself thinking about walking along a quiet, peaceful shoreline. I could hear the water lapping against the shore. I could see the seagulls flying overhead. For a very brief time, I think I actually slipped into a light sleep but was quickly jarred awake by the sound of a semi truck passing beside us. Traffic was heavy and my husband was having to stop and start often to keep up with the flow of traffic. It was nerve wracking! Here we go again...sensory overload.

When we pulled into our driveway about an hour later, I was so thankful to finally be home. I walked into our house and immediately was engulfed in pure, bliss filled quiet. Now I could relax. Now I didn't have to worry about someone seeing me with no breasts. I was home and I was safe. Maybe one day I won't feel this way any longer. I'm trying to work through it. I know it must be part of the healing process but I don't like feeling this way. I've never been so self conscious before in my life. I guess I understand a little more what it feels like to have lost a limb or to be physically deformed in some way. I wonder if those people feel like I do too...I wonder if they choose to hide in the back of the room? I wonder if they ever get past feeling like they are a sideshow freak...I sure hope so because I don't like feeling like one and that's exactly how I feel right now.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

 

Brutal honesty

Waiting patiently

Today I'm going to ask my readers to allow me the privilege of being brutally honest with them. (You don't really have a choice though because, after all...it is my blog and if I can say whatever I want to say here :) but you don't have to read this post unless you really want to know how I'm feeling.)

My day started out pleasantly. I woke up at 6:00 a.m. (which is fairly late for me) thanks to Restoril, a prescribed sleeping aid given to me last week by my oncologist. I had decided not to take it earlier in the week because it can be addictive, but after a few more sleepless nights, I decided to try it. One good night's sleep gave me the energy and the stamina to make it through the day, so I decided last night to take it again. I'm thankful I did because today was emotionally rough for me.

After waking and getting ready to go to my doctor's appointment, I went into the kitchen to see if my daughter, Laura, was awake. She had come take me to my doctor's appointment since I hadn't been given the "all clear" to drive yet. She was just stirring and about to hop in the shower. Breakfast was grab and go, then we headed out.

On the way to the doctor's office, it seemed every semi-truck in this area pulled out in front of us. The stress of possibly being late to my appointment began to build. Laura maneuvered in and out of traffic and managed to get us to the medical building with five minutes to spare. We went in and within a few minutes, the nurse was calling me back.

I donned a lovely white seersucker robe and hopped up onto the examining table. Laura and my granddaughter, Heather, sat patiently in the chairs along the wall in the room. My appointment was at 9. By 9:30, Heather began to get antsy...typical for an 11 1/2 month old. By 10, I told Laura to go ahead and take the baby down to the car so she could feed her. I think she was thankful to get out of the exam room and I surely didn't blame her.

Finally the doctor came into my room. She apologized profusely for my having had to wait so long. She began to exam me and asked if I was having any problems. I explained to her about the extreme swelling in front of and under my armpits. She felt the areas and said she wanted me to go see a Lymphedema specialist. She also said if the area in the center of my chest didn't look better by the next time I came, she would need to do surgery to correct it. After the examination, she said it was time for me to get my prosthesis and custom tailored bras. As I left, she said she'd see me again near the end of December.

About to try on bras

Next stop was Renewal, a store specializing in post mastectomy products, wigs, hats & turbans. Laura and the baby waited in the car while I went in to be fitted. The salesclerk verified my insurance information and told me I would be allowed 4 bras a year and 2 pair of prostheses, but of course, I'd have to pay my 20% of the cost. She led me into a dressing room and asked me to remove my blouse. Then she took a paper measuring tape and measured my chest. I was embarrassed to have her see me without my shirt on, but I knew it had to be done. After determining the correct size for my new bras, the salesclerk left the room to select some different types of bras for me to try on.When she came back into the room, she had a stack of boxes so high that I could barely see her face as she walked in with them. "Let's try all of these and find the ones you like best," she said. "Yes, lets!" I screamed silently and facetiously in my mind.

The first stack

The salesclerk was an older woman, probably around late 60's to early 70's. She was a tad gruff and impatient, but I chalked that up to having to do this numerous times during the day. I tried on 3 different bras and they all felt extremely uncomfortable as they rubbed against my incisions. I asked her for ones with a looser band and she went off to find more for me to try. While she was looking, I managed to snap a few photos (you'll see those in this post) because I am trying to document every part of this journey. Soon she was back with another large stack of bras and I was trying on more and more until I finally found some comfortable ones.

Next came the prostheses. She brought in these darling little "hat boxes" in a light pink color. Each one had a little handle and a clasp in front that reminded me of the old train cases young women carried when I was growing up. When she opened the first box and removed the prosthesis, I couldn't help but just stare at it. It was a soft, molded, silicone, breast shape in a neutral color. "Let's slip a pair of these in your bra and see how they feel," she said. When she put them in, I felt really strange. It was as if my body "remembered" that it was supposed to have breasts. My shoulders immediately went back and I stood more erect. I looked in the mirror at the bra with the prostheses in place. It looked okay but the salesclerk said the prostheses she'd given me were too small. She quickly left to get a larger size. I was afraid the larger ones would weigh too much and be difficult to wear daily. The salesclerk returned and said, "do you want to be bigger or smaller chested?" I hadn't really thought about being able to choose what size I wanted to be....I told her I didn't know but I wanted those things to be as light as possible. She had me try on size C down to size A cup prostheses. I chose the A's. Soon we were through and we left the dressing room for the register. At the register, she tallied up my total and deducted the insurance company's payment. I was dumbfounded when she told me what my percentage would be...those fake boobs cost a fortune!

Laura drove me back home and after lunch, she and Heather left. I began doing some housework and in the middle of hanging up laundry in my walk in closet, I had a huge meltdown. I began to cry uncontrollably. I was angry! I cried out to God and told Him how much I hated Cancer. I told Him I hated the way it made me feel...I hated feeling embarrassed in front of total strangers, I hated having to go see a Lymphedema specialist, I hated the fluid building up in my arms, I hated not being able to do the things I wanted to do, I hated the way I looked, I hated having to wear fake boobs, I hated....I hated....I hated.

After my torrential downpour of tears, I walked into my office and sat down at my computer to write this blog post. I felt numb but also felt a little lighter after having released all of my hate. Was it wrong for me to feel hatred? I don't think so. I've been through an awful lot lately. Did God understand my anger? Yes, I know He did because He knows my heart. The Bible says we are to "be angry and sin not." Had I sinned in my anger? No. I had just expressed my true feelings to God and cried over them. God knew my heart was filled with emotion. He allowed me to cry tears that would allow the pain to overflow my spirit and provide sweet release.

Just a few minutes ago, I listened to a song Laura had been playing on the radio as we'd come back from the doctor's office. (She'd told me in the car that she was playing that song especially for me but at that moment in time, I couldn't absorb the words because I was too distraught. She didn't realize it but I'd kept my head turned toward the window most of the trip home because I didn't want her to see me crying.) The words to "Carry Me" by Audry Assad described what I was feeling to a tee. I realized that what I was trying to do was to just make sense of all the suffering I'd been through recently. I was trying to process it through the grid of my weakness instead of allowing God, in His perfect strength, to just carry me through the pain.  He knew I was tired and weak. He knew I was embarrassed and afraid. He knew. He knew.

As I released all of my tears and fears to Him, He replaced them with His perfect peace. Honestly, I'm so at peace now that I'm going to take a nap. I think my mind just needs a little rest. Cancer is very challenging and tiring. Thank you for letting me be brutally honest today about my feelings and while I know feelings are not reality...they are my feelings and God accepts and understands them. I am so thankful that He loves me even when I'm angry at circumstances I can't control...but that just reminds me even more of the fact that I never really was in control anyway.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved


Listen to Carry Me by Audry Assad

Lyrics to her song:

"Carry Me"
Pain is a forest we all get lost in
Between the branches hope can be so hard to see
And in the darkness we've all got questions
We're all just trying to make sense out of suffering but

You say I am blessed because of this
So, I choose to believe
As I carry this cross, You'll carry me
Help me believe it

Fear is a current we all get caught in
And in its motion faith can be so hard to find
And we all falter 'cause we're all broken
We're all just trying to turn the shadows into light but

You get glory in the midst of this
And You're walking with me
And you say I am blessed because of this
So, I choose to believe
As I carry this cross, You'll carry me

And I know Your promises are faithful
And God, I've seen Your goodness in my life
And oh, I've found Your mercy is a river
Your love is an ocean wide

You say I am blessed because of this
You get glory in the midst of this
And You're walking with me

And You say I am blessed because of this
So, I choose to believe
As I carry this cross, as I carry this cross
'Cause as I carry this cross, You'll carry me

You'll carry me, God
You'll carry me
And Your love is an ocean wide

I am invisible

A sweet friend of mine commented on a photograph of myself that I recently posted on Facebook. She said, "...you radiate Jesus through your eyes, your face, your smile." When I read her comment, I was so honored and immediately grateful because this has been my goal my entire life...to always allow others to SEE Jesus in me. The Bible tells us that we carry Jesus with us wherever we go. As Christians, that's a huge responsibility! 

When I was a child, I remember hearing the pastor of a small town church we were attending say, "you may be the only Bible someone ever reads." That comment has impacted my life for many years. It has reminded me that no matter what circumstances I'm going through, I need to always represent Christ in a respectful and positive manner. That means even when I'm dealing with pain or difficulty, I need to always be mindful that others are watching me. It isn't always easy to be a representative for Christ but, when I accepted Him as my Lord and Savior, I took on that responsibility joyfully.

I will admit that struggling through Cancer has been extremely difficult but even so, I want others to see Christ shining through my life. I can make sure this happens by controlling my attitude, my response to pain, by sharing the reality of what I'm going through without causing someone else to feel overwhelmed or discouraged. Christ followers should always live a life filled with hope and joy because we are hidden in Him. Others are not to ever really even see us...they are to see Him! If I represent Christ properly in my life, I am invisible! People will look past me and only see Him. That is my desire. 

Hopefully I have been able to explain this clearly to you today. While I was touched deeply by my friend's comment that I was radiating Christ, I'd prefer not to even be seen or noticed at all. But since I am a body with skin on, people can't help but "see" me. I pray I will always remember that people are watching. They're waiting to see how I respond to circumstances in my life. Will I pass the test of being Christ's representative or will I fail miserably? Hopefully I will be very careful to let Christ emanate from my very pores. Hiding behind the cross, I can't help but allow Christ to be seen first, now can I? What about you? Do you radiate His love? Can others see Him before they see you? I hope they can! What an honor to carry around the body of Christ inside of us! Remember your actions speak louder than your words, so let them speak well of you.

©Bonnie Annis all rights reserved

Colossians 3:3 Amplified Bible (AMP)

³ For [as far as this world is concerned] you have died, and your [new, real] life is hidden with Christ in God.

2 Corinthians 4:10Amplified Bible (AMP)

¹⁰ Always carrying about in the body the liability and exposure to the same putting to death that the Lord Jesus suffered, so that the [^[a]resurrection] life of Jesus also may be shown forth by and in our bodies.

 Psalm 34:5Amplified Bible (AMP)

⁵ They looked to Him and were radiant; their faces shall never blush for shame or be confused.

The treatment plan

Walking across the parking lot, I could see the door to the radiation oncology center ahead of me. My heart was pounding in my chest and I was glad I had my sunglasses on because my eyes were filled with tears. Just the thought of being here made everything seem so real. I had just spent the past few days celebrating the fact that I wouldn't have to have chemotherapy but now, I had to face this. As my hand reached for the door handle, I took a deep breath. I didn't really want to do this, but I knew I must. 

I entered the waiting room and saw several people waiting. As I glanced at them, I tried not to make eye contact. I wasn't quite ready to become one of them. I noticed most of the patients were elderly and in various stages of treatment. Some of them were in wheelchairs and others needed assistance to even walk across the room. Each of them seemed lackadaisical about being there...as if it were "old hat."

Walking up to the counter, I was met by a cheery receptionist who promptly handed me a clipboard filled with papers. "I'm glad you're early," she said, "that will give you time to fill out all these forms." I worked as quickly as I could trying to remember surgical dates, prescription names and doses, insurance information, and other pertinent information. Although I'm totally against it, at that very moment, I wished I'd had a medical information chip implanted in my hand that would give them access to all my medical history through just a simple scanning.   

My name was being called by a nurse who seemed to be in her mid thirties. She ushered me right up to the scale and proceeded to record my weight. Next, we entered the exam room where she took my vital signs. As she pulled out the blood pressure cuff, I reminded her that she would have to take my blood pressure using my calf. Before she had a chance to speak, I told her I'd had lymph nodes removed in both arms and was instructed by my breast surgeon never to allow anyone to take my blood pressure in either arm because of the high risk of lymphedema. 

The nurse completed taking my vitals and then sat down to enter medical history in the computer. I did not understand why she was asking me the exact same questions I had just entered on the forms in the waiting room! All of it seemed unnecessary. If she had read the forms I'd completed, she would have found answers to each of her questions...but being the "good"girl that I am, I didn't say anything about that, and proceeded to supply her with answers.When the medical history information was entered into the computer, the nurse went to tell the doctor I was ready. I had no idea what he was going to do today. Would he just consult with me or would he actually preform a treatment? I was anxious as I sat there in my little open front gown. 

The nurse introduced Dr. Giesler to me. He was a tall, lanky man of about 40. I was surprised to see his head full of sandy, shaggy blonde hair. Instead of a doctor, he looked like an aging surfer. He was pleasant enough and made sure to look straight into my eyes the entire time he was talking to me. He explained that he was substituting for my regular doctor who was on vacation. 

After a brief physical examination, Dr. Giesler explained that I'll have between 33-35 radiation treatments over the next 7 weeks with 2 possible "radiation boosts" near the end of my treatment. On Tuesday of this next week, I'll have a CT scan done and also have mapping done where tattoos will be placed on my body. The tattoos, he said, are to aid the radiology tech in lining up the machinery providing exact targeting of the radiation beam. I was told to expect extreme fatigue, loss of appetite, skin burns, weakened rib cage, and various other side effects. Waiting patiently for a few minutes, Dr. Giesler asked if I had any questions. At that very moment, I couldn't think of any so I gently shook my head no.

The nurse came back in and told me I could get dressed. She started a video on radiation therapy and asked me to watch it saying it would answer many of my questions. She also said when it was over she would come back and have me sign a medical release form and we'd talk about skin care. As she shut the door, I sat waiting for the video to begin.

The video talked about the safety of the types of treatment provided by radiation today. As the video was playing, all I could think about was images I'd seen in a National Geographic magazine many years earlier of children running through dark, dusty streets with skin hanging off their bodies...victims of the Nagasaki and Hiroshima bombings. I remember reading about the effects of radiation sickness and horrendous it was back then. How could radiation help someone with Cancer get well when it was used to kill people? I listened as the video explained that highly intense beams of radiation could be targeted to specific areas of the body now and those beams focused on killing the Cancer cells without damaging surrounding organs. In the very next sentence, however, the narrator said, "but inevitably healthy cells will be destroyed in the process." 

The video droned on for about 15 minutes and then the nurse came back into the room."Do you have any questions for me now?" she said. My brain was on overload with all the information I'd just received so again, I shook my head no. "Well, let's go over skin care and side effects then," she said. She explained that during treatment, I wouldn't be allowed to use any deodorant at all. None. So that meant I was going to go 7 weeks smelling like a hot, sweaty field hand??? No...she said I could use cornstarch to combat odor. (Good thing I have some in my pantry with my other baking items!) I would also not be allowed to use any scented or drying soap or bath products. Dove was the soap of choice. Also she recommended I buy a large bottle of pure Aloe Vera gel to use after treatments. She explained that I would most definitely suffer burning from the treatments although the burns didn't usually show up until after the third of fourth treatments. She explained that the doctor would keep a close eye on my skin and if there was any blistering or deeper burns, they would address that with prescription creams. 

The doctor came in one last time and explained more side effects to me. He wanted me to understand that extreme fatigue was the most common complaint from patients. Along with fatigue, he said I could experience vomiting, nausea, difficulty swallowing, hair loss, lung pain, bone pain, and even rib fractures. As he handed me the medical treatment release form, I wasn't quite sure I wanted to sign it. He could see my hesitation and said, "just because we tell you all the side effects doesn't mean you are going to get them all. By law, we're required to inform you of all the possible side effects." I signed the form and handed it back to him. 

My next appointment was made and I was told I would receive a CT scan on that visit as well as have radiation mapping done. They would also apply permanent tattoos to my body to help the radiologist line up the machine to administer precise beams to the same area every time. The nurse explained that an inflatable foam pad would mold and form around me to ensure I would remain perfectly still for treatment. That form would then be kept and reused at each of my succeeding visits. 

As I left the office, the receptionist handed me one of those stretchy little wrist bracelets with an ID card and scan code attached to it. She explained that each time I came for my appointments, I would need to scan my wrist bracelet and that would alert the radiology tech that I was there for treatment. Pushing open the heavy glass door, I walked across the parking lot. I was dazed. It's still surreal to me that I am a Breast Cancer survivor. I never in a million years ever dreamed that I would be going through all of this. Suddenly it became clear to me how quickly life changes from moment to moment. One day you can be happy and healthy and whole, and the next day your entire world can be turned upside down. 

Getting into my car, I quickly turned on the radio. I wanted to drown out the instant replay from today's visit. You'll never guess what was playing as I drove out of the parking lot..."Live like you were dying" by Tim McGraw. The song tells the story of a man who found out he was going to die at a young age from a deadly disease. He was taken aback by the news, and was not sure how he should react to his final days. He asked his doctor what should he do, and the doctor shared with him his own personal experiences. The doctor told him to live his life to the absolute fullest for the time that he had left, so there would be no regrets left behind. The doctor explained that when he thought he was living his last days, he had the chance to be the person that he should have been before and just kept putting off. He became the good husband and friend that he always knew he should be. He focused more on his faith. He looked at things in his past that he had wanted to do but never had done...that's when the doctor tells him to live like he was dying. As I listened to the song, I realized that I needed to live that way...to live intentionally and purposefully. To remember that every moment of every day is a blessing and should never be taken for granted.

Day after day, God keeps reminding me that my time is in His hands. I can't count the minutes of tomorrow but I can take those given to me today and use them wisely. I intend to live like I am dying...we should all live this way but until we come face to face with our mortality, we often just don't understand that concept. Finally I get it...I really, really do.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

 

My Ya-Yas

One of my favorite movies is called the Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. In 2002, it came to the big screens and was based on the book written by Rebecca Wells. Sandra Bullock is one of the main stars of the film along with Ellen Burstyn. It's a wonderful comedy drama set in rural Louisiana in the year 1937, and focuses on a unique sisterhood of women possessing undying loyalty to one another. The women in the sisterhood seal their bond of friendship with an oath of blood in a crazy night time ritual. While the movie takes many twists and turns changing from deeply serious to wildly funny, it holds a lot of depth and truth.

This morning, as I prepare to go visit the radiation oncologist, I'm nervous. I guess one of the main reasons I'm nervous is because of a fear of the unknown. This will be my first experience with actual cancer treatment (other than having my breasts and lymph nodes surgically removed.) I don't know what to expect other than what I've read in books and online. As I thought about being nervous and afraid, God brought to mind several verses of Scripture to comfort me, but He also reminded me that He has put an army of women around me to encourage me. I call them my Ya-Yas. Most of these ladies don't even know I have put them on my team of supporters, but hopefully, after reading this post, they will know how very dear they are to me.

In my group of Ya-Yas, there are a vast array of personalities. Some of the women are boisterous and loud while others are timid and shy. Each one of them ministers to me in her own special way. While there are many, many women in the sisterhood, I'd love to tell you about just a few of them. I won't share their last names, to provide them with some anonymity,  but I will use their first names. Hopefully, you will see that God has hand picked them just for me.

The first of my Ya-Yas, is my mother, Anna. God has used her to minister strength and dignity to me not only recently but over all the years of my life. When I found out I had Cancer, my mother called me on the phone and prayed with me immediately. She couldn't be with me in person because she's in a nursing home, but she wanted me to know that she stood with me and would be my prayer warrior.

My daughters are an integral part of my Ya-Yas. The first is my oldest daughter, Erin. Erin has the gift of mercy and makes sure to call me several times a day to check in on me. She always knows when I need an extra dose of encouragement and can hear through the little cracks in my voice when I'm afraid even if I don't say a word to her. She understands me so well. Next comes my daughter, Laura. Laura is always willing to come and go with my to my appointments offering moral support and love. She is practical and strong and helps keep me in check when I seem to get off balance and quickly brings me back to reality. Then there is my youngest daughter, Jamie. Jamie is the first person I talk to each morning and the last person I talk to each night. She makes a point to call me several times a day just to chat, but knows how to "read between the lines" of our conversations. Jamie makes me laugh and helps me learn not to take things so seriously.

Another of my Ya-Yas is a new friend, Karen. Karen is also a breast cancer survivor and God brought her into my life only a month ago. Right after my surgery, Karen made a special point to come and visit me (although we'd only met online in a Breast Cancer support group) and bring some practical aids and helpful advice. Since that day, Karen and I have just clicked. We check in on each other via cellphone and even when we don't talk every day, I know she's thinking of me and wishing the best for me.

There are two more Ya-Yas I need to tell you about. I put these two together because they are very dear friends of one another - Connie and Stephanie. In an unlikely turn of events, God brought them into my life via Facebook. Stephanie is an old high school friend of my husband's and when he mentioned to her that I had breast cancer, she in turn shared it with her friend, Connie, and immediately they came to my side. Connie and Stephanie both love the Lord and it's evident in all they say and do. They both have provided practical and helpful items for me but, most of all, have provided their friendship.

Next comes my friend, Cindy. Cindy is a pastor's wife but is also a very godly woman. Although we haven't known each other a long time, we are sisters in Christ. Cindy sends me encouraging messages when she knows I need them most. She has the gift of mercy and makes sure to share the love of Christ with all she meets. She also must have the gift of prophecy because she makes sure to point others to the truth of God's Word. She is an integral part of my Ya-Ya team.

Two more important Ya-Ya sisters are from my past. We were friends in high school. Way back then we never faced any serious illnesses in our lives. We were more concerned with boys and football games than anything else, but these two ladies and I will be forever friends. The first is Wendy. Wendy and I have known each other for 50 years! We went to first grade together and immediately hit it off. Wendy is introspective and deep. She has a quiet, tender way about her. She knows when I need an encouraging word and I don't have to say a thing. When I least expect it, she sends me a card or a small gift in the mail telling me she's thinking of me and that means more to me than she will ever know. Next up is Kathy. Kathy and I have known each other for about 40 years, I believe. We also went to school together. She and I are very alike and have dealt with a lot of heartache over the years. I think that's why she can understand what I'm going through and have just the perfect words to say. I am thankful for these long time friends.

Another of my Ya-Yas is my friend, Aline. Aline and I have kept in touch since the mid 70's! We were related by marriage and even though that's not the case now, we're sisters forever! She is very talented and uses her talents to bless others. Countless times in my life she has made something and mailed it to me. I am always amazed at her knitting and crocheting skills. God has used her to bless me over and over again. She can make me laugh by things she says and is so open, honest, and real. 

Mary is on my team too! Mary and I have known each other since I was 16 and although we haven't seen each other since then, we reconnected on Facebook. She and I just hit it off and are kindred spirits. She is so sweet and unselfish. God has used her to bless me since my cancer journey began and I am so thankful for her.

The last two Ya-Yas I will mention by name are my dear friends and ex coworkers, Margot and Shirley. Margot is the wildest of all my Ya-Ya sisters! She has a wonderfully unique and funny personality. She always finds joy in life even when facing difficulty in her own life. She is a dear friend and prayer partner. God has used her to teach me to look for things to laugh about. Shirley has been my friend for about 7 years. She and I hit it off from day one. Shirley understands me and supports me. She is a loyal and true friend, one who will be around forever.

There are many more Ya-Yas on my team that include women from my family...cousins, aunts, and in laws. There are probably some Ya-Yas I've forgotten to mention in this post, so I'll ask forgiveness now. Each of these ladies are part of the group God has used to show me His love. Each of them is equipped with various gifts and talents. Each of them are part of the body of Christ. I am so thankful for each of my Ya-Yas! I know they have each been hand selected for me by God. I am sure He will bring more Ya-Yas into my team in the days ahead, for only He knows who He will chose to minister to me.

These women may have no idea how much they bless me, but God knew I would need each one of them in my life. He knew exactly what time He would have them enter it and how long they would be part of my life. There is a verse of Scripture found in Proverbs that says "...there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother." To me, that verse means that often times friends can be more attentive and more loving than even our own family members. My Ya-Yas are prized possessions and I am so very thankful God has given them to me. I am especially thankful for their love and their loyalty during this difficult time in my life. Without them, I don't think I would have been able to fare this journey as well. Thank you, my Ya-Yas, for making my life a little easier! I love you all dearly!!!

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