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Friday, January 16, 2015

Tamoxifen, friend or foe?

Since December 27, I've been taking Tamoxifen. My Oncologist prescribed it for me after the Arimidex did a number on me. I thought it would be better, especially since Tamoxifen has been around for about 40 years in breast cancers that are hormone receptor positive, and that's what mine is...it's fed by Estrogen and Progesterone. Tamoxifen supposedly binds to the Estrogen and blocks it so the cancer can't grow or spread. But, as with any drug, it comes with its own set of side effects.

Cell with estrogen receptors blocked by tamoxifen and helper proteins.
A Estrogen receptor
B Tamoxifen
C Estrogen helper proteins
D Tamoxifen helper proteins
E Nucleus
F DNA genetic material

Some of the side effects of Tamoxifen are include mental/mood swings, fuzzy thinking, bone loss, weight gain, fatigue, hair loss, vaginal dryness, loss of libido, joint pain, insomnia and bone fractures to name a few. So not only do you go through the pain and trauma of having your breasts removed, you end up with one or more of these lovely side effects to boot.

If the side effects become bothersome, there are always more drugs to make it all better. Effexor is commonly prescribed to treat the mental/mood changes. It's an antidepressant that seems to work on Serotonin levels in the brain. But, in some patients who take it, Effexor can cause suicidal thoughts and that opens up a new can of worms. For the insomnia, there are prescription sleep aids which can be highly addictive. There are drugs to help combat the other side effects, too. It's a vicious cycle.

So how do you know what to do?  For me, all I can do is research information on my own, pray about it, and trust my doctor. And speaking of my doctor, I'll be seeing him on the 27th of this month and I've already started making a long list of questions to ask him. Since I've only seen him twice since being diagnosed, I don't know how he'll respond to my list of questions. Will he feel challenged? Will he be understanding and helpful? Will he really listen to my concerns and hear me? I am hoping he'll listen carefully and hear my heart before responding.

I've always had difficulty asking for what I wanted or needed. I never wanted to be a bother, or cause anyone any trouble. Even when asked if I wanted something, or if someone could do something for me, it wouldn't be unusual for me to shyly decline, stating, "Oh no, that's okay," At first I thought maybe it was just a Southern thing, you know...being so overly polite and all, but then I realized, it was more likely a people-pleasing thing. I really was concerned with how people thought of me. Most of the time, I found myself holding back from speaking up with friends and family, but I became even more tongue-tied in medical situations. I wouldn't dare ask questions, even if I had them. Until I got cancer. Somehow when the situation became life and death, my tongue got a whole lot looser. And, wow, what a difference it made to speak up for myself! I learned that good physicians and caregivers are not threatened or offended when their patient decides to seek a second opinion; rather, they welcome the input. I learned I had speak up for myself.
 I don't want to have to take Tamoxifen at all and I surely don't want to have to take it for 10 years, as my Oncologist has recommended. I don't want to have to be on an antidepressant for the depression I've been experiencing but if I can't snap out of it, I may have to ask for help. The insomnia continues to be an issue. I had thought I'd found a solution by taking the natural hormone, Melatonin, but it doesn't seem to be working now. The fatigue is bothersome, but I'm just learning to take a break when my body says it needs one. The aches and pains in my joints are probably the most frustrating of all. I don't like feeling like I can't do what I once used to do...and with the depression on top of it, I don't even WANT to do the things I used to do even if I could. It's so frustrating! The mental fuzziness is kinda scaring me though. I'm not one to be forgetful and lately, I find I'm forgetting things...really ordinary, mundane things.

Recently, I read an article about Tamoxifen and its effect on brain cells. A team from the University of Rochester Medical Center has shown scientifically what many women report anecdotally: that the breast cancer drug tamoxifen is toxic to cells of the brain and central nervous system, producing mental fogginess similar to “chemo brain.” Tests have been done on mice that indicated significant brain cell damage. That's a scary thing for me. I don't want to worry about losing my cognitive abilities.

So is Tamoxifen a friend or a foe? I really don't know. It's supposed to give me better odds at survival. It's supposed to keep new cancer cells from growing in my body. But at the same time, the side effects are very real. I'm going to talk to my doctor openly and honestly. I'm hoping he's in a listening mood because I have a lot of concerns to share with him. Hopefully, he'll offer some good, helpful advice and I can become more knowledgeable. I am my own best advocate and I'm working hard to stay on top of things.

I've learned a lot through trial and error with regards to my medical health. These are some of the things I've learned:

1. You should be able trust your healthcare provider and feel totally at ease with him or her.  You should never leave an appointment feeling rushed, brushed off, or with unanswered questions.

2. If a treatment plan sends up red flags in your mind, consider getting a second opinion.

3. Listen to your gut. If something doesn't sound right or feel right, it probably isn't.


The Bottom line: Raise your hand. Ask questions. Listen to your gut. And when in doubt, check it out. You're worth it. Wouldn't you rather risk having someone think you ask an awful lot of questions than to find yourself lying on your death bed wishing you'd spoken up when you had that bad feeling? I've never once regretted using my voice. But I've certainly regretted not using it.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Tamoxifen attaches to the hormone receptor in the cancer cell, blocking estrogen from attaching to the receptor. This slows or stops the growth of the tumor by preventing the cancer cells from getting the hormones they need to grow.   - See more at: http://ww5.komen.org/BreastCancer/Tamoxifen.html#sthash.LpOEBVkf.dpuf
Tamoxifen (Nolvadex) has been used for over 40 years to treat breast cancers that are hormone-receptor positive. Hormone receptor-positive breast cancers need the hormone estrogen (and/or progesterone) to grow.  
Figure 5.9 below shows how tamoxifen works. Tamoxifen attaches to the hormone receptor in the cancer cell, blocking estrogen from attaching to the receptor. This slows or stops the growth of the tumor by preventing the cancer cells from getting the hormones they need to grow.  
Unlike aromatase inhibitors, tamoxifen can be used to treat breast cancer in both premenopausal and postmenopausal women.  
- See more at: http://ww5.komen.org/BreastCancer/Tamoxifen.html#sthash.LpOEBVkf.dpuf
Tamoxifen (Nolvadex) has been used for over 40 years to treat breast cancers that are hormone-receptor positive. Hormone receptor-positive breast cancers need the hormone estrogen (and/or progesterone) to grow.  
Figure 5.9 below shows how tamoxifen works. Tamoxifen attaches to the hormone receptor in the cancer cell, blocking estrogen from attaching to the receptor. This slows or stops the growth of the tumor by preventing the cancer cells from getting the hormones they need to grow.  
Unlike aromatase inhibitors, tamoxifen can be used to treat breast cancer in both premenopausal and postmenopausal women.  
- See more at: http://ww5.komen.org/BreastCancer/Tamoxifen.html#sthash.LpOEBVkf.dpuf

Thursday, January 15, 2015

S.A.D.

Oh these gray, yucky winter days! I wish they'd go away. I wish they'd go away because they are making me sad. Not only are they making me sad, I'm feeling like I'm suffering from S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder). Seasonal Affective Disorder is a real malady that affects many people during the dreary winter months. It also affects people who live in places like Alaska and Antarctica where the long winter days are shrouded in darkness. These symptoms usually disappear during the Spring and Summer months as the days are filled with more sunshine.

Some of the symptoms of Seasonal Affective Disorder are:
  • Less energy.
  • Trouble concentrating.
  • Fatigue.
  • Greater appetite.
  • Increased desire to be alone.
  • Greater need for sleep.
  • Weight gain
For the past week, it's been rainy and foggy here. It's almost as if a cloud sat down right on top of my house and hovered there all week. Such a heavy gray feeling hung low over us and I can only describe it as "DAMP GRAY". Damp gray feels like sadness, worry, and despair. Damp gray is a heavy, dreary experience like no other. Every morning it seemed to close in a little tighter. I dreaded facing it each day. Every morning, I would go about the task of trying to shake off those thoughts because I knew that the sunshine was just around the corner hidden by the mist.

But is it gray or grey? I wasn't quite sure so I looked it. It seems both are correct. There are two acceptable spellings. Gray is used primarily in the United States and other areas that use US English. Grey is used in Great Britain and areas that use UK English. So there.

Gray is an ugly color to me most of the time, but I decided to try and think of some grays that are more pleasant and I was able to come up with a list of 15. I tried to come up with 50, like the movie (which I have never seen and don't wish to see!), but all I could manage was 15.

Here's my list:

1.   Pewter gray - a strong and distinguished, regal sort of color

2.   Soft gray - a gentle color that reminds me of one of my sweet kitties from childhood

3.   Silver gray - the color of my husband's hair, the color of wisdom

4.   Puffy gray - the gentle color on the underside of clouds, telling me rain is coming

5.   Coarse gray - the color of my late Father in Law's bushy eyebrows

6.   Pearl gray - the iridescent color sea shells along the banks of Cumberland Island

7.   Wool gray - the color of a gray skirt that I had in high school. It was so itchy and I hated it

8.   Putty gray - the color of sealing putty used in home repairs

9.   Gentle gray - a warm eye color that some people possess indicating intelligence

10.  Silver gray - the elegant look of shiny gray ribbon wrapped around a gift and then tied into a bow

11.  Lacquer gray - the color of expensive cars

12.  Lavender gray - the color of the lovely satin dresses

13.  Dove gray -the color of beautiful mourning doves, so soft and gentle

14.  Grayish blue - the color of my husband's eyes on days when he wears a blue shirt

15.  Dapple gray -the majestic color of horses, so regal and strong

Now that I've listed these various shades of gray, I don't feel quite as sad any longer. Whew! And that reminds me, it's time to color my hair. It's starting to get quite gray, grey, GRAY around the edges!

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Dutiful daughters


My oldest daughter, Erin
My middle daughter, Laura
I don't know when they started looking after me...my girls, but they did. I never paid much attention to when it first began, but I know it was sometime after my cancer diagnosis. It began very subtly. My middle daughter began to jot down my medical appointments and make arrangements to take me to them whenever she could. It didn't matter to her that I was still able to drive. She told me she wanted to take me. She wanted to be there and support me. I was thankful. What a gift! She was right there with me through every test. She was so reassuring and calm. She imparted her strength through her love and concern. She's so dependable, so reliable...so dutiful.

Then the phone calls started. Daily, my oldest daughter and my youngest daughter would call and check in on me. Oh, they didn't let me know that was what they were doing...they hid it so well, but I knew. They were concerned and wanted to make sure I was okay. The first calls came in right after my surgery and then as I was healing. Sometimes the calls were brief and sometimes they were long. I could always hear the concern in their voices but they tried to keep the conversations light and upbeat. Sometimes they were direct with their questions about my health and sometimes they beat around the bush, hoping I wouldn't catch on...but I did.

The youngest one calls me on her way to work every day, usually between 7:30 and 8:30 in the morning. It's like clockwork. I can predict within five or ten minutes when my phone will ring. We talk the entire way while she's driving and she tells me about her date the night before or her plans for the day. I never tire of hearing her talk about her boyfriend. She's so cute and sooo in love.

Mid morning, my oldest daughter calls. We usually talk while both of us do a little housework. It's nice to catch up and hear the kids playing in the background. She's a busy mother of 4 but she makes time for me! We can talk about anything from the color of paint to latest accomplishment of one of the children. It doesn't really matter. We're kindred spirits. She knows me so well.
My youngest daughter, Jamie

Just about the time we hang up, my youngest daughter is calling in again. She's on her lunch break and we talk the entire time she's at lunch. It's nice to have someone to talk to during the day and I certainly would never complain, but I think my girls have decided to tag team to make sure I'm okay. I tell them over and over it really isn’t necessary for them to feel like they have to call me every day, but they say, "we want to!" I smile knowing what it feels like to be so loved.

The day passes quickly and before I know it, my husband is coming in from work. As I begin to prepare dinner, my youngest calls again...this time on her way home, fighting traffic again. We usually talk while she drives because I know it helps her commute seem a little shorter... but she has no idea what it does for me.

Throughout the rest of the evening, I'll receive texts from one of them. I love how they share their lives with me. Sometimes the texts are questions, "how do you cook....?" or "guess what happened..." I never know what I'm going to read when those messages come through but I love each and every one of them. I would say, on an average, I receive 6 phone calls a day from them and over 30 texts! That's a whole lot of care and concern if you ask me!

I'm so thankful their calls and messages provide better therapy than money could ever buy...their love is so evident. I am blessed beyond measure and so very grateful to have daughters who care. When did I become the child and they become the adult? I don't say that in an unkind way, it's just odd to be the one being cared for now instead of doing the care giving. Life is strange but I wouldn't change a thing.


©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Just stuff...


Sleep? What's that?  I haven't been sleeping well for months and months. I've tried so many things. My Oncologist gave me a prescription medication that knocked me out but made me feel totally out of control the next day. I knew I couldn't function like that so, I tried Benadryl. It worked for an hour or two but then I was wide awake again. I tried Advil PM, which combines Advil and Bendaryl, and it worked great...until a fellow survivor told me it interacted negatively with Tamoxifen so I had to stop taking it. Now, I'm taking Melatonin and it seems to be working pretty well, but gives me some really strange dreams. At least I'm getting some uninterrupted sleep. What a huge difference it makes to wake up feeling rested. I definitely don't take sleep for granted. And neither does my husband, who only gets a tiny sliver of the bed to himself. With all the pillows neatly and precisely arranged to provide the most comfort to me...he is left clinging to the edge. He says he doesn't mind, but he can't possibly be comfortable. Hopefully I won't have to keep my arms elevated at night for much longer and pillow mountain can come down.

Plus size, Please! It's pretty sad to say that at 57 years old, I need help getting dressed. Unless I choose a button up blouse, Phil has to help me put on my top and take it off. Not only do I have to choose a button up top, but I have to buy shirts a few sizes larger now just to accommodate my huge swollen arms. The swelling in my arms continues and even though the surgeon said it should wane over time, it hasn't. One day last week, Phil tried to help me peel a top over my head and it got stuck on my fat arms. I thought we were going to have to cut it off! (If you'd been a fly on the wall of our bedroom, you would have seen me bending over at the waist, top half on and half off, while Phil tugged trying to get me free! He was tugging so hard I thought I was going to go flying backward across the room and land smartly on my best asset.) Needless to say, I won't be wearing that shirt again! I usually opt for stretchy knit shirts because they are a little more comfortable and forgiving of my swollen arms. Cotton, not so much.

Lumps, bumps, and bruises: There's a huge knot of scar tissue and fluid just under my right armpit. It feels like a baseball. My breast surgeon said we could try to massage it daily and see if the tissue will loosen up and the fluid will dissipate. Phil's been diligently doing that every night for me but so far, there hasn't been much change. The next step is to go in and have it drained or surgically removed. There are also several really hard bumps along the line of my incisions. I don't know if they are from the after effects of radiation or what. I'm keeping my eyes on them because any new growth could be another cancerous tumor lurking in the shadows. I bruise pretty easily now. Tamoxifen is known to cause blood clots so I have to take an Aspirin a day to help combat that. Aspirin thins the blood. So, when I bump into things, I bruise. I bump into things a lot.
I am on the 20 mg tablets of Tamoxifen, this is the 10mg bottle

There's a pill for that! In order to stay on top of my medication, I've set reminders in my cell phone at various times of the day. Whenever it's time for my Tamoxifen, The Imperial March (Darth Vader's Theme) from Star Wars sounds off loudly. You may think that's strange but you'd have to know me well to know how much I love Star Wars! It's a challenge to take Tamoxifen. It gives me some funky hot flashes and mood swings. Sometimes I feel really dingy shortly after taking it and I know it means the medication is floating through my body. Tamoxifen is also causing my hair to do some strange things. It's making it very thin and lifeless. I've always been proud of my looks...now, not so much.
My friend, Julia, made me a hat to cover my thin hair

It's only Agoraphobia: There I said it. I don't really have a fear of leaving my house (I don't think), but I choose not to most days. I feel more comfortable here at home where I don't have to hide my appearance from anyone. I know I need to get out. I need to make some new friends but it's hard. This Thursday is art therapy class at the Cancer Wellness Center. Phil wants me to go. I know I need to, but it's going to be a real challenge. I've only been once but the ladies were welcoming. 

Time on my hands: Yep. I have an abundance of free time. So what do I do with it, you say? I write lots of letters, read lots of books, craft when I feel up to it, clean my house, and try to do anything to keep my mind off of my physical ailments.

Mind games: Emotions can really trip you up. Cancer and Tamoxifen only add to the mix. I still find myself bawling like a little baby at times. Even though I try to keep a tight handle on my emotions, sometimes they get the better of me...and my husband...and my children.

Calendaritis: Yes, I'm afraid to look at my calendar for fear of seeing an upcoming medical appointment. They are dotted throughout the year and I don't even want to think about them! But thanks to my trusty phone, I never miss a one.

Renewal: Nope. It's not what you think. Renewal is the name of the store that sells prosthetic equipment and mastectomy bras. They sent me a letter last week that said "it's been 6 months since your last visit. It's time for a new fitting." Yuck. I don't want to do it but I know I have to...

Good stuff:
My new grandson, Braeden Ray Garrison
  • I have a new grandson! Braeden Ray Garrison was born on November 3, 2014 and I'm going to get to go see him soon! We're in the process of planning a trip to Texas. I can't wait to hold him and get to see my other little Longhorns. 
  • My oldest grandson, Alex, is graduating from high school this year. I can hardly believe it! It seems like yesterday he was just a little boy. 
  • I've taken a month sabbatical from Facebook. It was stealing too much of my time and God prompted me to step away from it for a while. It's amazing how much time that has freed up for me....yep, even MORE free time!
  • I've also been asked to write book reviews for several Christian companies. I enjoy reading their books and then writing reviews to help prospective readers.
  • I've been asked to write for several online breast cancer blogs. It's been fun to share part of my journey with others.
  • Occasionally, someone will still send a card or an email to let me know they're thinking of me. I'm grateful that people still care. 
  • Life goes on. Day in and day out...life continues to go on. 
 ©bonnie annis all rights reserved












Monday, January 12, 2015

So what if I'm flat?


The doctor keeps telling me I have to wear my fake boobs, but "I don't want to," I say this like a stubborn little girl with her arms crossed. I stamp my foot and say, "NO. You can't make me!" But only in my mind, I never let the words slip out of my mouth. What's wrong with being flat? I never had much to begin with and now I have even less than before.

Well, I tried it and I didn't like it. After a few months of living sans breasts and forcing myself to wear the fake boobs, I felt like a phony. I felt like I was misrepresenting myself. I couldn't help that I had breast cancer. I couldn't help that my breasts had to go. Putting on these falsies felt like a huge lie and they made me feel horrible about myself. Yes, they made my shirts fit a little better but other than that, I was just pretending. 

Wearing the prostheses reminded me of a time way back when I was in grammar school. All my little friends were starting to get their "boobies." I wanted some so badly but I was flat as a pancake. There were a few of us who just weren't developing yet and we all decided to take matters into our own hands. So one day, in the school restroom, we got our little training bras and stuffed them with Kleenex until we had little mounds of fake breasts. We thought we were hot stuff! We got ourselves all adjusted and strutted right out of that bathroom with our little chests sticking out in front of us. We were so proud of ourselves...that is, until some of the tissue slipped and we were lopsided, which called for a quick readjustment. But then, to make matters worse, one of my girlfriends had the worst luck. Her tissue fell completely out of her bra onto the floor. Imagine the absolute look of horror on her face when her boob drifted slowly out from under her shirt and floated casually to the floor leaving her flat on one side and poofy on the other! As I think back about it now, I laugh but we were desperate back then! Why did we feel this way? Even at such a tender young age, we were already brainwashed into thinking to be a woman, you had to have breasts.

Some women choose to have reconstruction after their mastectomies and some don't. There's nothing wrong with women who choose to have reconstruction, it just simply wasn't for me. I had no desire whatsoever to put myself through any more surgery or any more pain. But some women can't fathom the thoughts of living without their breasts, even if they're abnormal looking...like those formed from extra stomach fat, back fat, fanny fat, or jiggly underarm or thigh fat. Reconstructive surgeons can make fake boobs out of pretty much any fatty tissue on a woman's body but it's a complicated procedure and doesn't always work. Reconnecting all of those delicate blood vessels isn't easy and sometimes, the tissue dies. There are many, many breast reconstruction horror stories. Just Google it for yourself and you'll see! But it's the choice of each breast cancer patient and the choice they make is one they have to be happy with for the rest of their lives. Every breast cancer patient has so many options presented to them and there are so many factors that come into play, so how can I be one to judge? The main decision we, as breast cancer survivors have to make, is to live.

I thought about it. I really did. I thought about what the doctor said about having to wear my fake boobs. I thought about what she said about how my body would react if I didn't wear them...how my shoulders would eventually round forward and how my spine would start giving me problems. But when I thought about putting fake boobs where my real breasts used to be, I just couldn't do it. Even she said, "well, you really didn't have big boobs in the first place. So why on Earth did the fitter at the prostheses store give you such big ones?" I told the doc, "I have no idea. I told her I wanted a size A cup but I think she gave me a C or D! The ones I have must weigh 2 or 3 pounds each."

But the more and more I thought about it, I decided why should I let society dictate what I do with my life? Why does it matter if I have no breasts? Am I less than every other woman? Can I still be considered sexy? Am I still a woman? Who sets the standards anyway? Can't I be just me with or without boobs?

I talked it over with my husband and we decided that even without boobs, I was still pretty amazing.  I was still a woman, still a wife, still a mother, still a grandmother in spite of  every thing breast cancer wanted to steal from me. So I will continue to be "flat as a flitter." I feel more comfortable that way, especially at home. Maybe, on rare occasions when I feel like it, I'll slip into my mastectomy bra and take the girls out for a spin, but more than likely I'll leave them in their cute little pink zippered boxes and let them sulk their little silicone hearts out. 

©bonnie annis all rights reserved





It’s not that I deny anyone the right to handle their cancer their way.  I hate to see anyone–ANYONE–having to be put in the position of being a warrior against cancer–least of all me.  
And as a fighter, I reserve the right to handle my diagnosis the way I choose–as all of these women and men have done.  Bravo to them and bravo to Ford for spotlighting them, supporting them, clothing them in the gear–all of it.  It’s amazing to watch a business, no matter the na-sayers who claim it’s about publicity, or tax right offs, or blah blah blah–
listen, when you’ve got the disease, then come to me with your complaints.  But I bet you won’t complain–you’ll just be grateful, like I am, that somebody gives a damn about you and your horrific, mind-blowing, life-changing and maybe life-ending experience.
So here’s what bums me out:  not a one of them is without breasts and showing themselves as such.  You know what that says to me?  It says that breasts are way too important.
I have nothing–NOTHING–against reconstruction, or prosthetics. I’m just saying that presenting yourself as with breasts, even when you’re not, is not the only answer.
When I thought about putting fake breasts back into the place where my real breasts–one of which had cancer and one that didn’t–were, I was put into the awful position of “what if I have no breasts? What am I then? Am I still sexy? Am I still a woman?” And after 4 terrible, stomach churning, put-this-marriage-to-the-test days, my hero-of-a husband and I decided I would still be amazing without boobs. I would still be female, still beautiful and (gasp) sexy, despite what breast cancer wanted to steal from me. And I am proud of that decision–though not altogether understood by the world around me for making it.
After a few months of living without breasts, and trying prosthetics, I felt like a phony. I felt like I was misrepresenting me. I had breast cancer, my breasts had to go–and putting on fake boobs was like a bad costume party in my mind; and it made me feel bad. So I dumped them. For 8 years I’ve lived as is–no breasts, no bumps, but plenty of life.
In a video like this, what would have amazing impact to me is seeing a woman–or more than one woman—who chose to not have reconstruction and doesn’t wear fake breasts. I am not saying me. I am just saying someone. Someone who says, “hey society, guess what? I love myself, as does my husband, and I have NO BOOBS. How bout that,society?”
I am not saying all people should make my decision; I am saying that many of us out here do. We make a hard, horrible decision that less is more, as the saying goes–especially in the face of chemotherapy, radiation, mastectomy surgery, recovery, and all the pills you have to take for the next 5 years to keep breast cancer at bay. It’s not always about reconstruction or fake breasts after breast cancer.  It’s about living.
So next year I hope somebody chooses to submit themselves into the casting call for this fantastic, formidable, film-worthy video support in the fight against breast cancer who has no breasts and doesn’t use prosthetics. There are many of us out there, fighting after their first battle, after their second round–or in my case, after it’s jumped the fence and gone into other organs (metastatic)–and we are ALL FIGHTERS. We are proud, we are pumping iron, we are praying to live through this devastating illness…
..even those of us with a few less body parts to fight with.
- See more at: http://www.projectpinkdiary.com/2012/05/anns-diary-breast-and-breastless-cancer-heroes/#sthash.FEgOaFnU.dpuf
It’s not that I deny anyone the right to handle their cancer their way.  I hate to see anyone–ANYONE–having to be put in the position of being a warrior against cancer–least of all me.  
And as a fighter, I reserve the right to handle my diagnosis the way I choose–as all of these women and men have done.  Bravo to them and bravo to Ford for spotlighting them, supporting them, clothing them in the gear–all of it.  It’s amazing to watch a business, no matter the na-sayers who claim it’s about publicity, or tax right offs, or blah blah blah–
listen, when you’ve got the disease, then come to me with your complaints.  But I bet you won’t complain–you’ll just be grateful, like I am, that somebody gives a damn about you and your horrific, mind-blowing, life-changing and maybe life-ending experience.
So here’s what bums me out:  not a one of them is without breasts and showing themselves as such.  You know what that says to me?  It says that breasts are way too important.
I have nothing–NOTHING–against reconstruction, or prosthetics. I’m just saying that presenting yourself as with breasts, even when you’re not, is not the only answer.
When I thought about putting fake breasts back into the place where my real breasts–one of which had cancer and one that didn’t–were, I was put into the awful position of “what if I have no breasts? What am I then? Am I still sexy? Am I still a woman?” And after 4 terrible, stomach churning, put-this-marriage-to-the-test days, my hero-of-a husband and I decided I would still be amazing without boobs. I would still be female, still beautiful and (gasp) sexy, despite what breast cancer wanted to steal from me. And I am proud of that decision–though not altogether understood by the world around me for making it.
After a few months of living without breasts, and trying prosthetics, I felt like a phony. I felt like I was misrepresenting me. I had breast cancer, my breasts had to go–and putting on fake boobs was like a bad costume party in my mind; and it made me feel bad. So I dumped them. For 8 years I’ve lived as is–no breasts, no bumps, but plenty of life.
In a video like this, what would have amazing impact to me is seeing a woman–or more than one woman—who chose to not have reconstruction and doesn’t wear fake breasts. I am not saying me. I am just saying someone. Someone who says, “hey society, guess what? I love myself, as does my husband, and I have NO BOOBS. How bout that,society?”
I am not saying all people should make my decision; I am saying that many of us out here do. We make a hard, horrible decision that less is more, as the saying goes–especially in the face of chemotherapy, radiation, mastectomy surgery, recovery, and all the pills you have to take for the next 5 years to keep breast cancer at bay. It’s not always about reconstruction or fake breasts after breast cancer.  It’s about living.
So next year I hope somebody chooses to submit themselves into the casting call for this fantastic, formidable, film-worthy video support in the fight against breast cancer who has no breasts and doesn’t use prosthetics. There are many of us out there, fighting after their first battle, after their second round–or in my case, after it’s jumped the fence and gone into other organs (metastatic)–and we are ALL FIGHTERS. We are proud, we are pumping iron, we are praying to live through this devastating illness…
..even those of us with a few less body parts to fight with.
- See more at: http://www.projectpinkdiary.com/2012/05/anns-diary-breast-and-breastless-cancer-heroes/#sthash.FEgOaFnU.dpuf
It’s not that I deny anyone the right to handle their cancer their way.  I hate to see anyone–ANYONE–having to be put in the position of being a warrior against cancer–least of all me.  
And as a fighter, I reserve the right to handle my diagnosis the way I choose–as all of these women and men have done.  Bravo to them and bravo to Ford for spotlighting them, supporting them, clothing them in the gear–all of it.  It’s amazing to watch a business, no matter the na-sayers who claim it’s about publicity, or tax right offs, or blah blah blah–
listen, when you’ve got the disease, then come to me with your complaints.  But I bet you won’t complain–you’ll just be grateful, like I am, that somebody gives a damn about you and your horrific, mind-blowing, life-changing and maybe life-ending experience.
So here’s what bums me out:  not a one of them is without breasts and showing themselves as such.  You know what that says to me?  It says that breasts are way too important.
I have nothing–NOTHING–against reconstruction, or prosthetics. I’m just saying that presenting yourself as with breasts, even when you’re not, is not the only answer.
When I thought about putting fake breasts back into the place where my real breasts–one of which had cancer and one that didn’t–were, I was put into the awful position of “what if I have no breasts? What am I then? Am I still sexy? Am I still a woman?” And after 4 terrible, stomach churning, put-this-marriage-to-the-test days, my hero-of-a husband and I decided I would still be amazing without boobs. I would still be female, still beautiful and (gasp) sexy, despite what breast cancer wanted to steal from me. And I am proud of that decision–though not altogether understood by the world around me for making it.
After a few months of living without breasts, and trying prosthetics, I felt like a phony. I felt like I was misrepresenting me. I had breast cancer, my breasts had to go–and putting on fake boobs was like a bad costume party in my mind; and it made me feel bad. So I dumped them. For 8 years I’ve lived as is–no breasts, no bumps, but plenty of life.
In a video like this, what would have amazing impact to me is seeing a woman–or more than one woman—who chose to not have reconstruction and doesn’t wear fake breasts. I am not saying me. I am just saying someone. Someone who says, “hey society, guess what? I love myself, as does my husband, and I have NO BOOBS. How bout that,society?”
I am not saying all people should make my decision; I am saying that many of us out here do. We make a hard, horrible decision that less is more, as the saying goes–especially in the face of chemotherapy, radiation, mastectomy surgery, recovery, and all the pills you have to take for the next 5 years to keep breast cancer at bay. It’s not always about reconstruction or fake breasts after breast cancer.  It’s about living.
So next year I hope somebody chooses to submit themselves into the casting call for this fantastic, formidable, film-worthy video support in the fight against breast cancer who has no breasts and doesn’t use prosthetics. There are many of us out there, fighting after their first battle, after their second round–or in my case, after it’s jumped the fence and gone into other organs (metastatic)–and we are ALL FIGHTERS. We are proud, we are pumping iron, we are praying to live through this devastating illness…
..even those of us with a few less body parts to fight with.
- See more at: http://www.projectpinkdiary.com/2012/05/anns-diary-breast-and-breastless-cancer-heroes/#sthash.FEgOaFnU.dpuf
It’s not that I deny anyone the right to handle their cancer their way.  I hate to see anyone–ANYONE–having to be put in the position of being a warrior against cancer–least of all me.  
And as a fighter, I reserve the right to handle my diagnosis the way I choose–as all of these women and men have done.  Bravo to them and bravo to Ford for spotlighting them, supporting them, clothing them in the gear–all of it.  It’s amazing to watch a business, no matter the na-sayers who claim it’s about publicity, or tax right offs, or blah blah blah–
listen, when you’ve got the disease, then come to me with your complaints.  But I bet you won’t complain–you’ll just be grateful, like I am, that somebody gives a damn about you and your horrific, mind-blowing, life-changing and maybe life-ending experience.
So here’s what bums me out:  not a one of them is without breasts and showing themselves as such.  You know what that says to me?  It says that breasts are way too important.
I have nothing–NOTHING–against reconstruction, or prosthetics. I’m just saying that presenting yourself as with breasts, even when you’re not, is not the only answer.
When I thought about putting fake breasts back into the place where my real breasts–one of which had cancer and one that didn’t–were, I was put into the awful position of “what if I have no breasts? What am I then? Am I still sexy? Am I still a woman?” And after 4 terrible, stomach churning, put-this-marriage-to-the-test days, my hero-of-a husband and I decided I would still be amazing without boobs. I would still be female, still beautiful and (gasp) sexy, despite what breast cancer wanted to steal from me. And I am proud of that decision–though not altogether understood by the world around me for making it.
After a few months of living without breasts, and trying prosthetics, I felt like a phony. I felt like I was misrepresenting me. I had breast cancer, my breasts had to go–and putting on fake boobs was like a bad costume party in my mind; and it made me feel bad. So I dumped them. For 8 years I’ve lived as is–no breasts, no bumps, but plenty of life.
In a video like this, what would have amazing impact to me is seeing a woman–or more than one woman—who chose to not have reconstruction and doesn’t wear fake breasts. I am not saying me. I am just saying someone. Someone who says, “hey society, guess what? I love myself, as does my husband, and I have NO BOOBS. How bout that,society?”
I am not saying all people should make my decision; I am saying that many of us out here do. We make a hard, horrible decision that less is more, as the saying goes–especially in the face of chemotherapy, radiation, mastectomy surgery, recovery, and all the pills you have to take for the next 5 years to keep breast cancer at bay. It’s not always about reconstruction or fake breasts after breast cancer.  It’s about living.
So next year I hope somebody chooses to submit themselves into the casting call for this fantastic, formidable, film-worthy video support in the fight against breast cancer who has no breasts and doesn’t use prosthetics. There are many of us out there, fighting after their first battle, after their second round–or in my case, after it’s jumped the fence and gone into other organs (metastatic)–and we are ALL FIGHTERS. We are proud, we are pumping iron, we are praying to live through this devastating illness…
..even those of us with a few less body parts to fight with.
- See more at: http://www.projectpinkdiary.com/2012/05/anns-diary-breast-and-breastless-cancer-heroes/#sthash.FEgOaFnU.dpuf

Saturday, January 10, 2015

Eucharisteo

This is the word that can change everything: eucharisteo—it comes right out of the Gospel of Luke: “And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them … ” (Luke 22:19 NIV). In the original language, “he gave thanks” reads “eucharisteo.” The root word of eucharisteo is charis, meaning “grace.” Jesus took the bread and saw it as grace and gave thanks. He took the bread and knew it to be gift and gave thanks. Eucharisteo, thanksgiving, envelopes the Greek word for grace, charis. But it also holds its derivative, the Greek word chara, meaning “joy.” Charis. Grace. Eucharisteo. Thanksgiving. Chara. Joy. Deep chara joy is found only at the table of the euCHARisteo; the table of thanksgiving. As we've begun this new year, I've decided to become intentional about learning how to live a life of eucharisteo...always giving thanks with a grateful heart. It isn't easy to choose to live life this way, when everything around you seems to scream out in negativity. Our world today is filled with unkindness and evil, but if you look hard enough...you can find a reason to give thanks.

Ann Voskamp, wrote a wonderful book in which she learned how to live a life of eucharisteo. As a child, she witnessed her sister being crushed under a truck. Immediately after that event, her mother checked herself into a psychiatric hospital and her father couldn’t find God.  She has experienced much pain in her life but even in the pain, she battles to believe that in God is joy, and that there are as many gifts amid the grittiness of life as in the moments of celebration. In her book, One Thousand Gifts: A Dare  to Live Fully Right Where You Are, Ann helps provide answers to tough questions like these:
  • Where is joy in the midst of cruelty and chaos, duties and despair?
  • How does one slow down enough for the soul and God to live in synch?
  • How in the world do we learn to find God and live fully?
Every day of our lives, we must make choices on how we're going to get through difficult situations and circumstances. We can choose to be enveloped in the struggle or look for joy in the midst of it. Living a life of eucharisteo, is learning to live a life purposely looking for reasons to give thanks.

One of the best ways to begin living a life of eucharisteo, is to begin keeping a gratitude journal. It doesn't have to be anything fancy...a simple memo pad or notebook will do. If you've never kept a gratitude journal before, start off small. Look for just 3 things a day in which you can give thanks. By purposely jotting down a few items a day, you'll shift your focus from the negativity in the world around you to the positivity of what God is and always has been doing in your life. The journal will be your personal journey into seeing God's goodness. As you continue looking for those "gifts" each day, the ones in which you can give heartfelt thanks to God, I believe you'll find that you can begin to list more and more "gifts" each day. He gives us wonderful gifts of grace every single day. I think when we begin to intentionally list them and focus on them, our minds discover how very much He loves us and wants to bless us.

Let me give you an example of my three gifts of gratitude this morning:
  •  As I looked in the mirror this morning, after my shower, I noticed the large, ugly scars across my chest. Cancer tried to kill me, but God in His magnificent grace said, "No! I'm not through with you yet! You will live." I am so thankful for the gift of life. 
  • Three beautiful deer traipsed across my lawn this morning. I was thankful for the gift of eyesight for without it, I would never have seen them. 
  • The dishwasher is full of dishes, which means we have had money to buy food, and we have had food to eat,  and we have been content. Thank you God for your provision!
Do you see how easy it is? When you start looking for things in which to be thankful, the blessings will be there. When you start writing them down, you'll see that you have become intentional in looking for ways to give thanks. If you need a little boost to get started, read Ann's book or you may even want to take her Joy Dare. My first time taking the Joy Dare was last year and I'm so glad I did!

The world is full of things that will pull you down and make you feel sad, lonely, and depressed. Instead of looking around at your circumstances, choose to look up to Christ instead. He loves you so much and He longs to bless you. Simple little blessings surround each of us daily. Look for them and you'll find them. I promise. 

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Thursday, January 8, 2015

In the wee small hours of the morning

In the wee small hours of the morning, while the whole wide world is fast asleep...
“In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning," a popular song from the 50's composed by David Mann, was introduced as the title track of Frank Sinatra’s 1955 album, "In the Wee Small Hours." I love this beautiful, sentimental song. In the wee small hours of THIS morning, I was fast asleep. I don't ever sleep well, so it's a miracle when I do fall into a very deep, peaceful sleep. Imagine my surprise, when I was startled awake. There was nothing to wake me that I know of, no loud noises, nothing to disturb my peaceful state...my husband wasn't even snoring...but I was instantly wide awake.

As I lay looking around the room in the darkness, my mind began to fill with thoughts. They came rushing in like an angry stampede. Headlines from yesterday's news came to mind...the senseless massacre in France, during a business meeting held at Charlie Hebdo's offices, where 12 innocent, unsuspecting people lost their lives, they had no idea, that within minutes, they would be spending their last seconds on earth...the shock, the terror, the chaos. I thought of their poor families and how in just an instant their lives would never be the same again. I wondered if the gunmen, after leaving their wake of destruction, were off celebrating somewhere with their black shrouded comrades while chanting, "Allahu Akbar." Senseless. So Senseless...and then the verse, "and because iniquity shall abound, the love of many will wax cold" from Matthew Chapter 24 verse 12 came to mind. My brain was spinning. Thoughts came rushing in from all sides. It was as if a dam had been opened and the flood waters were headed straight for me...washing over me, enveloping, almost to the point of drowning me. 

I got out of bed and flipped on the light. I was wide awake so I might as well get up. (I'd read somewhere that if you were unable to sleep it was better to go ahead and get out of bed...so I did.) Throwing back the down comforter, I left the cozy warmth of my bed and padded across the carpeted floor to get dressed. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was only a little after 5:00 a.m. now. I'd been awake since just before 4:00 a.m. That meant I'd only had five hours of sleep, yet I was wide awake...fully coherent and functioning.

Now I sit at my computer. The quiet glides easily through the house. I hear the rush of traffic outside my window as commuters begin to make their way to their offices. I wonder if any of them have given a second thought to the employees who lost their lives yesterday. I wonder how many of them are listening to the radio...how many are hearing the world news right now, probably not many. I imagine most commuters flip on their CD players or satellite radio to hear their favorite tunes before arriving at their workplace...to drown out the thoughts in their heads...to just relax and mellow. It's probably too early for them to take on the heaviness of the world's problems just yet, and still time ticks on. 

Time. Precious seconds, minutes and hours. It slips away so silently. I wish I could bottle it and save it but instead I have to teach myself to learn to savor it, like a fine wine...swirling it around and watching it's color, sniffing the sweet nectar of it and then slowly, deliberately tasting it...allowing it to wet my mouth with its flavor. 

I glance at the clock on my computer. It's almost 7:00 a.m. now. Where are those three hours, the ones I'd lost between waking and now? Do you see how fast they've disappeared? But Chaucer once said, "time and tide wait for no man." And how very true that statement is, was, and forever will be. Time keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking... into the future...

After writing my blog post, my mind felt a little lighter. Maybe I needed to dump out all the thoughts I was thinking and that's why I woke up so early. But then again, I was reminded of another verse of Scripture... 
"When my anxious thoughts multiply within me, Your consolations delight my soul." Psalm 94:19 Hmmm...now that's something to think about!

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

And here's a quotation that I love by one of my favorite authors, Pastor Andrew Murray: 

"Humility is perpetual quietness of heart. It is to have no trouble. It is never to be fretted or vexed, or irritable, To wonder at nothing that is done to me, to feel nothing that is done against me. It is to be at rest when nobody praises me, and when I am blamed or despised, it is to have a blessed home in myself where I can go in and shut the door and kneel to my Creator and Sustainer in secret and be at peace, as in a deep sea of calmness, when all around and about is seeming trouble."
Andrew Murray
 












 

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