Some kinda crazy

On Facebook yesterday, someone had posted this ad for No Bra day on October 13th. I don't understand how setting one’s"ta-ta’s" free for a day by going bra-less is in any way supporting breast cancer. Another thing that bothers me is all the ads trying to make breast cancer look sexy. Breast cancer is definitely not sexy. In fact, it's the farthest you could ever get from sexy! But the ads people come up with amaze me. At least they are creative and trying to raise awareness in their own strangely unique way. 

I'm not trying to be cynical in this post, it just baffles me how the folks who prepare and pitch these ads just don't seem to "get it." They don't seem to really understand the concept that breast cancer is a life altering, body altering, and emotionally altering disease.

Take a look at this woman's photo. I don't know her personally but the photo was shared on the SCAR PROJECT's website. This photo is a good representation of the "un-sexiness" of breast cancer.

 
The SCAR Project is a series of large-scale portraits of young breast cancer survivors shot by fashion photographer David Jay. Primarily an awareness raising campaign, The SCAR Project puts a raw, unflinching face on early onset breast cancer while paying tribute to the courage and spirit of so many brave young women. You can visit their website here: The SCAR Project Their mission is three-fold: raise public consciousness of early-onset breast cancer, raise funds for breast cancer research/outreach programs and help young survivors see their scars, faces, figures and experiences through a new, honest and ultimately empowering lens. I'd love to be part of that project as both a breast cancer survivor and as a photographer. I can think of no greater honor.
 
Now to give you an idea of how silly some ads can be, look at the photo below. November is prostate cancer awareness month. I'd like to issue a new challenge...on November 13^th lets…..SET THE BALLS FREE and see how big that movement goes over! I'm willing to bet you won't see any ads like this floating around and I'm willing to bet you won't find any men going around sans pants. Now do you see my point? Do you see how ridiculous some ads are in the world of breast cancer? I rest my case!

Counting down

For the past 5 weeks, my life has centered around trips to and from the radiation clinic. Every Monday, I get to see Dr. Santiago, my Radiation Oncologist. During our visit, she checks my skin and asks me how I'm feeling. It's gotten to be quite a routine exchange of words. Yesterday was a little different:
Dr. Santiago: "So how are you feeling today?"
Me: "Fine"
Dr. Santiago: "How's your energy level?"
Me: "I'm a little tired and don't have quite as much energy as I'd like to have right now."
Dr. Santiago: "That's normal. You have to remember your body is trying to heal. Rest when you need to and don't push yourself."
Me: "Okay, I'll try."
Dr. Santiago: "Let me take a peek at your skin."
Me: (I open my gown and hold it open for her to view the radiated area. Pointing to my underarm, I say this:) "It really hurts in this area."
Dr. Santiago: "Yes, that's always the case where there's a body fold. Skin rubbing against skin and clothing rubbing against the burn can cause a great deal of pain. Try using gel ice packs under your arm but be sure and wrap them in a towel or some sort of cloth first."
Me: "Okay."
Dr. Santiago: "So, you've completed 19 treatments now."
Me: "Yes!"
Dr. Santiago: "You only have 9 more to go."
Me: "Really? I thought you had said 35 originally?"
Dr. Santiago: "That's correct, but from reviewing your xrays and according to your treatment progress, I think we can cut that down to only 28.:
Me: "That's great!"
Dr. Santiago: "So, are you still using the Radiaplex gel and the Silvadene on your skin?"
Me: "Yes."
Dr. Santiago: "How many times a day?"
Me: "Three times a day, as instructed."
Dr. Santiago: "Good! Your skin looks like it typically should for this time frame of your treatment. I know the burns are uncomfortable."
Me: "Yes they are but the gel really helps."
Dr. Santiago: "How are you sleeping?"
Me: "Not very well. I toss and turn all night. I can't get comfortable."
Dr. Santiago: "You can take the pain pills I gave you every 4 hours."
Me: "Thank you, Dr. I don't want to take them if I don't have to because I don't want to get dependent on them."
Dr. Santiago: "Is there anything else?"
Me: "Not that I can think of today."
Dr. Santiago: "Well, then, I'll see you next week, you can start counting down."
Me: "YAY!"

What I'm thinking:
So today will be my 20th treatment and after today, there will only be 8 more to go! I should be finished by next Friday, October 9. I wonder how I'll feel that day...should I celebrate...will I feel lost not having the routine of going to and from the clinic in my life every day? I guess I'll have to wait and see. The next step will be going back to my Oncologist, Dr. Trevor Feinstein. He'll draw blood and use those tests to determine my cancer markers and then, I'll begin anti-hormone therapy for the next 5-10 years. Wow. As I just wrote that, the reality of cancer controlling my life for the rest of my life is very real. I'll be constantly going to one doctor after another for check ups, blood work, and treatment. Yes, I'm thankful that the radiation part of it will be over...so very thankful! Yes, I'm thankful I didn't have to have chemotherapy...extremely grateful for not having to go through that agony...but where do I go from here? How do I get back to just living my life? Was this just a tiny blip on the radar? Will I have a constant fear that cancer may be lurking in the shadows and jump out at me in the future? I never want to think about recurrence! Maybe if I just don't ever think about it, I'll never have to deal with it. October is breast cancer awareness month. Everywhere there will be pink ribbons and reminders for me. How am I going to handle that? Will I be emotional? Will I try to avoid all reference to breast cancer? I'm not a huge fan of all the walks, celebrations and parties that seem to minimize the reality of cancer but it is what it is...the ones of us who've been through hell and back have a different view on all of it...some might even say we're cynical, but that just isn't the case. We are just tired. We've been stretched beyond our limits and we've spent so much energy fighting that we just want a break....we wish we could turn back the hands of time, but we can't...we are forced to face reality and reality is ugly. But on the other hand, we're thankful to be alive! We just experienced the worst scare ever and the words "you have cancer" hung a death sentence over our heads. But we don't give in, we press on. We fight and sometimes we win. It's a fifty/fifty chance and only God knows the outcome. In any event, I'm glad the countdown is on and after today, I'll only have 8 more treatments in front of me. I think I can do this. No, I know I can. I've made it this far and I'm not going to stop now.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

The fortune teller

The county fair just left Coweta county. I had planned to go this year, but that was before I got cancer. I love fairs! I love the sights and the sounds...the people, the lights, the smells, the energy. Fairs are fun and exciting. I can be a kid again at the fair.

When I was a child, I remember going to the Southeastern Fair every year when it came to town. I always went with my next door neighbor. Her family was kind enough to invite me to go with them. Mama and Daddy always managed to sacrifice a few dollars for me to buy a bag of popcorn, get some cotton candy, or ride a few rides. Melinda and I were so giggly and silly riding in the back seat of her Mother's station wagon. We couldn't wait to go through the house of mirrors or the haunted house. We loved crashing into each other in the bumper cars. We were ecstatic that in just a short time, we'd be entering the fair grounds, buying a long row of tickets and waving goodbye to her Mother.

I'll never forget one year in particular when we went to the fair. I don't remember all the details of how we ended up there, but we found ourselves sitting at the fortune teller's table as she read our palms. Melinda went first and I have no idea what the fortune teller told her, but when it came time for me, I remember distinctly what she said. I must have been about 10 years old at the time. I know I was impressionable and very naive. I hadn't experienced the world yet. The fortune teller was a woman around her early 60s. More than likely she was a gypsy woman because her mannerisms, speech, looks, and everything about her pointed in that direction. We sat at a round table in a dimly lit area. If I'm not mistaken there was a candle on the table because I remember a faintly glowing light. The old woman asked me to give her my hand. As she reached across the table, I timidly stuck out my arm. She took my arm and twisted it over gently so my palm was facing up. She peered into my hand and began to trace the lines with her fingertip. "Do you see this line?" she said in a gruff voice, "this line represents your life. It is called your life line." I leaned in close and looked with her at the palm of my hand. "Do you see how the line stops in the middle of your hand?" I looked and saw that the line curved slightly and stopped almost in the dead center of my hand. "That means you have a short life line. That means you won't live very long." When she said that, I remember feeling extreme dread. I was suddenly scared! She continued holding my hand and said, "I see 56 years. I see 56 years of life." Well, for a 10 year old, that seemed like a pretty long time, but still...I had planned to live a lot longer than 56 years! I don't remember us staying at the table with her after she said that. I'm pretty sure, I jumped up and couldn't wait to get away from there. I'll never forget that day. I never told anyone about what the fortune teller had told me.

Now I know you're thinking I'm being really superstitious, but keep reading and let me tie this together. I'm not a believer in black magic, the occult or any kind of sorcery. I'm a Christian and I know that only God knows the number of days He's allotted to me on this earth. I'm using the fortune teller to help you understand how I've been feeling lately. I'm not trying to give any credence to the predictions the old gypsy woman made, but please hear me out. At 56, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Before receiving my diagnosis, I was a fairly outgoing person. I loved hiking, camping, traveling...living every day of life to the fullest and now, everything has changed.

Yesterday I was filling out an questionnaire sent to me by the Social Security Administration. I had recently applied for Social Security Disability and they needed more information. On the form, they asked a lot of personal questions, as all government agencies do. I did my best to answer them all honestly and truthfully. The questions were geared toward understanding how my life had changed since I'd been diagnosed with cancer. They wanted to know how it had affected me emotionally and physically. They wanted to know if it had caused me any physical limitations, etc. etc. As I was filling out the form, each question made me realize that I had indeed experienced great life changes since my diagnosis. No longer did I want to go out in public, no longer did I want to participate in activities, no longer did I find joy in the things I had before...as I answered the questions, I was realizing that the old me, the me before cancer, had in fact died. At 56...I had died. The fortune teller, although putting on a guise for silly children at a county fair, had been partially correct. She had said I would die at the age of 56.

Now whether her statement stayed with me subconsciously for all those years and just recently resurfaced, or whether I'm just relating to that memory with recent circumstances, I don't know...but I do know that I have definitely changed. I feel like a part of me has been lost and will never be able to be regained again. Maybe over time, after I've healed a bit more, I'll find my "want to" again. I'll find my desire to live life to the fullest again. But right now, I'm just not there yet.

I know this is a long process and each breast cancer survivor has to work through this on her own. I know that God has never left me and He understands my feelings of despair at times. He was always so patient with Job and allowed him to grieve over the loss of his past life. And, in His great mercy, although He allowed Satan to touch Job's life in such a profound way, He restored Job. He blessed him with even more than he had before. He gave him a reason to find joy in his life again. Job never lost sight of what was really important. Things and even people didn't matter to Job. The only thing that mattered was his relationship with Christ. I know that too. I know that the only thing that really matters in my life is my relationship with Christ. Right now, I feel like I've lost the old me and I feel like I've died to some degree. But I know God has so much more for me.

Sometimes I feel like I'm back at the fair only this time, I'm on the merry go round. It's going around and around, faster and faster, it's going. It is constantly moving and I'm going up and down on the wooden pony, but never reaching my destination. I look around and as I'm traveling, I watch different bits of my life passing by. I want to stop and get off but I can't. How long will I feel this way? How long until I feel myself again? Was the fortune teller right? Had I died at 56? Was this all a terrible dream that I can't wake up from?

No. I'm a realist. I know I'm not dead and I didn't really die at 56. Yes, a small part of me is gone. The part of me that was self confident and self reliant. But as I think about it, maybe those parts needed to go because if they were still part of me, I wouldn't be forced to rely on God as much as I do now.

The county fair is gone now and I didn't get to go this year. It wasn't because I couldn't, it's because I didn't have any desire to go. I didn't want to be around massive amounts of people. I didn't want to have to put on my fake boobs and go out in public. I wasn't feeling well physically. It's probably a good thing I didn't go too, because if I had, I'm sure I would have seen a gypsy fortune teller there and I would have been reminded all over again about my past experience as a child.

Isn't it amazing the memories we store up in our minds from childhood? We are so impressionable. The memory of the fortune teller wasn't a pleasant one and is one I'm choosing to forget as of this day. I wonder if she ever knew how her statements affected all the children who placed their hands in hers? I wonder if she cared or if she was only interested in that dollar she made from each one?

I'm sure there are many who honestly do believe in palm reading and fortune telling but I'm not one of them. I know those things are tools of darkness and are not to be dabbled with by Christians. I wish I'd never sat in the fortune teller's chair all those years ago, but we didn't know better back then. We thought it was just a part of the fair...something fun to do, but it was so much more.

Yes, a part of me died at 56, but the rest of me still lives! I may not be the same person any longer, but I'll be a better person...a changed person. I'll be different because of what I've experienced and hopefully, I'll have grown. I know that Jesus lives inside my heart and He wants me to live life to the fullest. I'm taking one day at a time. I'm so thankful He's patient with me. It's a process and He's guiding me into more Christlikeness.

I don't have to look at my palm to see how long I'm going to live! Only God knows the answer to that question. It's not for me to know and I'm thankful I don't! If I knew how long I had left to live, I would always be focusing on my expiration date instead of focusing on today. Living in the moment has become my new way of life and I think I like it that way. It's a short time frame to focus on and I can handle that.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

 

2 Corinthians 6:13-15New King James Version (NKJV)

¹³ Now in return for the same (I speak as to children), you also be open.
¹⁴ Do not be unequally yoked together with unbelievers. For what fellowship has righteousness with lawlessness? And what communion has light with darkness? ¹⁵ And what accord has Christ with Belial? Or what part has a believer with an unbeliever?

Pain, Pain, go away!

What I want you to know:
It seems like I've done nothing but complain for the past few days. I know Phil is so tired of hearing my moaning and groaning, but he says nothing. The radiation burns are driving me crazy and I think I may be allergic to the sulphur based cream the doctor prescribed to help with my pain. Can you see me...with my hand thrown up against my brow crying "woe is me?"

Not wanting to wear clothing on the top half of my body is getting to be ridiculous, but it feels so much better not having the cloth rubbing against me. Last night, as we sat and watched TV, I figured out a way to unbutton my long sleeve shirt and take out the right arm while draping that sleeve around toward the left side just enough to cover the lower half of my right torso. I unhooked the button at the cuff and buttoned it along the middle row of buttons on my shirt making a make shift top that allowed air to flow around my upper right arm. Well, even that wasn't good enough. I was still in pain even though I was getting good air flow, so I went to get a gel ice pack out of the freezer. I wrapped the gel pack in a cotton dish towel and sat with that under my arm pit for the rest of the show.

The ice pack felt so good and very soothing and VERY cold. In just a few minutes, my core body temperature seemed to go down a few degrees. I guess that's why on medical shows, when someone has a raging fever, and they need to get it down quickly, they pack ice under their armpits and in the groin area. The ice was doing such a good job, that when we got ready for bed, I slept with it.

This morning, the gel pack was lying on the floor next to the bed. It had thawed out a few hours after I'd put it under my arm and sometime during the night, I guess I'd thrown it down onto the floor. I slept fitfully again last night, even though I had taken a pain pill. It's just so hard to get comfortable.

Both of my armpits are already extremely swollen and it's only 7:22 a.m. I haven't been able to wear the compression sleeves for Lymphedema since my burns have gotten so bad. The doctor told me the right sleeve was rubbing against my chest and irritating the burned area. So now I have fat arms and an irritated, burned chest. It hurts!

I'm going to try to enjoy my last day of freedom for the weekend...a day where I don't have to go to the radiation clinic. On Monday, I'll have the 19th treatment, (the one I was supposed to have on Friday), and I'll get to see the doctor. I am concerned about the way my skin has turned a deep shade of brownish red and is spotted with bumps. Hopefully she'll be able to tell if this is normal for this amount of radiation or if I'm having a reaction to the Silvadene cream.

What I'm thinking:
I am frustrated beyond belief! I want to be done with treatments. I need to bite my tongue instead of being so vocal around Phil about how I'm feeling. It isn't fair to him for me to complain constantly. It isn't like me! I don't like this side of me. Will the swelling and pain go away when the radiation stops? Will I continue to fight exhaustion after treatments end? Will I be able to enjoy the holidays this year? When we went to Cracker Barrel yesterday, I saw Christmas decorations in their gift shop. I didn't even get excited, in fact, I dreaded even thinking about Christmas...the shopping, the cooking, the decorating....entertaining. Oh how I would love for one of the kids to take over doing Christmas for the family this year! It would be so nice to just go and enjoy it somewhere else. Why am I thinking so far ahead? Why am I feeling this way? Why don't I look forward to Christmas this year? Oh my gosh...why do I have so many questions? I guess I'd better go get the ice pack and put it back under my arm. Typing is taking a huge effort this morning, so I'm going to have to stop now. I hope people don't think I'm crazy when they read my blog!

A Gift

Just when you seem to yourself
nothing but a flimsy web
of questions, you are given
the questions of others to hold
in the emptiness of your hands,
songbird eggs that can still hatch
if you keep them warm,
butterflies opening and closing themselves
in your cupped palms, trusting you not to injure
their scintillant fur, their dust.
You are given the questions of others
as if they were answers
to all you ask. Yes, perhaps
this gift is your answer.

Denise Levertov

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

 

K.I.T.

Betcha wonder what K.I.T. stands for, don't you? Well, it stands for "Keep it Together." It's from a movie line. In the movie, "Bowfinger," Eddie Murphy does a great job of drawing us in and making us laugh hysterically. I'll attach a clip from the movie, so you can see what I'm talking about after you finish reading my blog post for today, but in the meantime, what I'm about to share with you isn't very funny.

From the time I was a teenager, I've been a type A personality...you know, the high achiever, the people pleaser, the "gotta get it done yesterday" kinda person. I've always prided myself in my ability to remain in control, even through difficult circumstances in my life, I was always able to K.I.T. (keep it together) but since I was diagnosed with breast cancer, everything's been falling apart. I can't fix things with my bottle of "control glue" any longer. I've had to learn to let things fall apart. It hasn't been easy to learn to let go of things I can't control, but I'm doing it little by little every day. Relinquishing my control has been a huge challenge for me, but...I'm finally realizing that I was never in control in the first place.

It isn't easy to K.I.T.  when things are chaotic! When life takes a mad twist and throws you into the middle of a raging storm, you quickly realize your mad rowing isn't going to do a thing...so you learn to lean back in the stern of the boat and hold on for dear life. You go where the storm takes you and even if you haven't got a clue where you're going to end up, you K.I.T. because if you don't, you're going to fall completely apart.

Keeping it together doesn't necessarily mean you don't get frightened at times...that's a given. Life is scary especially when you feel out of control. Cancer is a great teacher of that lesson! In the beginning you do your best to K.I.T. and you do a pretty good job of it...taking each punch as it's thrown at you and dodging the ones you can...but, eventually, you realize it's best to ride out the storm because fighting takes up too much energy. That's where I am today. I'm tired of fighting so I've just stopped...

It's so much easier to stop trying to fix things and just accept "what is" as it comes. I've finally realized that my bottle of control glue is empty. But it is of little consequence because...there's Someone else in control of my ship! Yep, you guessed it...it's God. He's always been the captain of my ship. Sure, I've tried to take the wheel a few times and on rare occasions, He's let me so He could teach me a lesson or two. But traveling through the storm of cancer, I think He knows how to navigate so much better than I do. It's amazing to me that I ever thought I was in control. What was I thinking??? I'm sure I gave God a good chuckle now and then. I can just see Him sitting up there on a huge, white, puffy cloud with His arms crossed, looking down at me as I frantically tried to K.I.T. He probably let out a huge belly laugh and then began shaking His head in sad disbelief as I continually struggled to keep my life under control.

So how did I get to the point where I could let go? I'll tell you. I just got tired. I mean, I got really physically tired. Fighting got too difficult. I had to let go. I had to learn that situations around me are constantly changing and I just can't do it any more. I can't control anything in my life so I have to just learn to K.I.T. moment by moment. I'm not talking about keeping it together in a controlling way, I'm talking about keeping it together "in the midst of the storm" kind of way...where I just chill out and relax even though the sea is raging around me.

It's not my job to control things and it never has been. I'm not supposed to have the bottle of "control glue." God is the only one who can keep my life together through sunshine or through the storms. I'm so glad I finally realized this fact. It has taken a huge weight off of my shoulders. You might hear me whispering to my self "keep it together, keep it together, keep it together!" like Eddie Murphy did in the movie, but that's just me giving myself a reminder that even though I'm not in control, I need to keep myself calm and still. Soon the raging storm will be over and I'll be safely deposited on the shore. God's going to get me through this and when the storm is over, He'll have taught me some valuable lessons.

Do you think you have a bottle of "control glue" sitting on a shelf in your mind? If you do, you're sadly mistaken. You don't have control. You can practice keeping it together, but it won't change your circumstances. Learn to let go and Let God take control. You'll find it so much easier to just rest and relax...go with the flow...ride the waves! Be sure to watch the movie clip:
KEEP IT TOGETHER, Eddie Murphy movie clip from Bowfinger

©bonnie annis all rights reserved