Yesterday was the one year mark from the date of my surgery. It was a day filled with mixed emotions and retrospection. The entire day turned out completely different than I expected.
I had looked forward to this day for months thinking it would be a day of grand celebration, but it hasn't been that at all. Don't get me wrong, I am extremely happy to be here and I am very excited to be alive! But the day was just another ordinary day...no fanfare, no balloons, nothing.
I was a little disappointed that not a single friend or family member took time to call or send a card congratulating me but I guess they just forgot, after all, this celebratory day wasn't something that really affected all of their lives, only mine.
At the end of the day, I did have a big bowl of Moose tracks ice cream, and you know, ice cream always makes everything better!
One year of survival down and hopefully, many more to go...
© bonnie annis all rights reserved
Friday, July 10, 2015
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
A little melancholy...
The dictionary describes melancholy as a sober, pensive mood bordering on mild depression. That word seems to be perfect for describing my current state of mind as I think back over the past year. I know my melancholy state is partially due to the fact that in just a few days I'll celebrate the one year mark of my surgery. And while I know Thursday will be an emotional day, a day filled with both happiness at having survived and sadness at having my life totally changed by breast cancer, I find myself wondering once again, why God allowed this into my life.
I still remember the day I found that mass in my right breast. I was terrified. Before I even had a single test, I just knew that it was cancer. I was instantly a statistic. Pink would become my new signature color, whether I wanted it to be or not. Doctors would become my new best friends. There was absolutely nothing I could do about it...nothing. Not one single part of my cancer journey was in my control.
It was surreal to face my options. The breast surgeon gave me option one: lumpectomy with chemo and radiation and mammograms every 3 months or mastectomy with possible chemo and radiation without mammograms. I chose to be proactive and went with bilateral mastectomies. I had no idea what my future held but I knew I had to make sure the cancer was removed asap.
When I was in the 9th grade, I wanted to go into the medical field. I assumed I'd be a nurse since I loved helping others more than anything in the world and I had the gift of mercy. At that time, our high school had implemented a "Para-Med" class, sort of a pre-med/paramedic training course. I signed up for it immediately and instantly fell in love with both my teacher and my class. We didn't only focus on book work but enjoyed hands on experience through dissection and other practical applications of our teaching. Some of the girls in our class were squeamish when we were told we would dissect a pregnant pig but I couldn't wait to get started.
Each member of the class was assigned a partner. We were instructed on how to wield our scalpels effectively and safely. I'll never forget being given the honor of making the first incision. As my scalpel slid across the thick pig skin, the smell of Formaldehyde filled the air. Coach Waltz instructed me to only cut through the epidermis. Carefully, I learned the proper amount of pressure to exert on my instrument. As I was working, I watched the skin slowly peel back exposing the dermis. As I completed my incision, Coach Waltz applauded me for a job well done.
The next student stepped up and was given instructions on cutting into the dermis without penetrating the subcutaneous layer. We all stood around with starry eyes waiting to see the pig's placenta which contained about a dozen baby pigs.
The pinkness of the pig and the smell of Formaldehyde became overwhelming. Our teacher could see that many of us were struggling. Oh how thankful we were when the bell rang and class was dismissed. "Next class, we'll resume extraction," Coach Waltz said.
The first time I looked at my scars from surgery, I wondered if the surgeon enjoyed her job as much as I enjoyed my Para-Med class. How many breasts had she removed in her career? What did they do with the diseased body parts? Did they dissect them and study them further with biopsies and tissue resections?
As I finally came to terms with my new fate, I've watched the change in my body. My scars, once angry, swollen, and red are now calm, pink, and fading. It's amazing how time changes things and helps to change our perspective.
I've chosen not to travel down the road of "what ifs." I know it would be too complicated so why waste energy going there. God has revealed the reason for my suffering is to bring Him glory and that's exactly what I intend to do.
Yes, today I'm a little melancholy. The trauma of having both breasts removed has not been easy. I don't understand why society places such value on a women's breasts as a symbol of femininity anyway. Even my radiation oncologists questioned me about my decision not to have breast reconstruction surgery. She looked dumbfounded when I said I'd chosen not to go through that unnecessary pain and turmoil.
Does having breasts make me more of a woman? I don't think so. I'm still the same person I was before surgery, only my physical appearance has changed and I've developed a stronger resolve. Does Bruce Jenner instantly become a woman just because he decided to have breast implants? No! He was born a male and he'll die a male. It doesn't matter what he does to enhance his body to make himself look like a female.
Of course I get a little down in the dumps when I put on clothes and they don't fit quite right any longer. Instead of my breasts filling out the areas the designer created them to fill, now there are indented, draping spaces revealing my booblessness. Yes, I can put on my prostheses and instantly change things, but I don't like the deception. I've been through a hell of a war and I've suffered great battle wounds.
So please pardon my melancholy mood today. As I think back over the past year, I am amazed at how quickly the time has passed. On Thursday, I'll remember the day my life changed forever and hopefully, I'll be able to look back and see all the great things God did during that year. It's still a journey and one I'll continue for the rest of my life. I just have to keep reminding myself to take one day at a time.
©bonnie annis all rights reserved
I still remember the day I found that mass in my right breast. I was terrified. Before I even had a single test, I just knew that it was cancer. I was instantly a statistic. Pink would become my new signature color, whether I wanted it to be or not. Doctors would become my new best friends. There was absolutely nothing I could do about it...nothing. Not one single part of my cancer journey was in my control.
It was surreal to face my options. The breast surgeon gave me option one: lumpectomy with chemo and radiation and mammograms every 3 months or mastectomy with possible chemo and radiation without mammograms. I chose to be proactive and went with bilateral mastectomies. I had no idea what my future held but I knew I had to make sure the cancer was removed asap.
When I was in the 9th grade, I wanted to go into the medical field. I assumed I'd be a nurse since I loved helping others more than anything in the world and I had the gift of mercy. At that time, our high school had implemented a "Para-Med" class, sort of a pre-med/paramedic training course. I signed up for it immediately and instantly fell in love with both my teacher and my class. We didn't only focus on book work but enjoyed hands on experience through dissection and other practical applications of our teaching. Some of the girls in our class were squeamish when we were told we would dissect a pregnant pig but I couldn't wait to get started.
Each member of the class was assigned a partner. We were instructed on how to wield our scalpels effectively and safely. I'll never forget being given the honor of making the first incision. As my scalpel slid across the thick pig skin, the smell of Formaldehyde filled the air. Coach Waltz instructed me to only cut through the epidermis. Carefully, I learned the proper amount of pressure to exert on my instrument. As I was working, I watched the skin slowly peel back exposing the dermis. As I completed my incision, Coach Waltz applauded me for a job well done.
The next student stepped up and was given instructions on cutting into the dermis without penetrating the subcutaneous layer. We all stood around with starry eyes waiting to see the pig's placenta which contained about a dozen baby pigs.
The pinkness of the pig and the smell of Formaldehyde became overwhelming. Our teacher could see that many of us were struggling. Oh how thankful we were when the bell rang and class was dismissed. "Next class, we'll resume extraction," Coach Waltz said.
The first time I looked at my scars from surgery, I wondered if the surgeon enjoyed her job as much as I enjoyed my Para-Med class. How many breasts had she removed in her career? What did they do with the diseased body parts? Did they dissect them and study them further with biopsies and tissue resections?
As I finally came to terms with my new fate, I've watched the change in my body. My scars, once angry, swollen, and red are now calm, pink, and fading. It's amazing how time changes things and helps to change our perspective.
I've chosen not to travel down the road of "what ifs." I know it would be too complicated so why waste energy going there. God has revealed the reason for my suffering is to bring Him glory and that's exactly what I intend to do.
Yes, today I'm a little melancholy. The trauma of having both breasts removed has not been easy. I don't understand why society places such value on a women's breasts as a symbol of femininity anyway. Even my radiation oncologists questioned me about my decision not to have breast reconstruction surgery. She looked dumbfounded when I said I'd chosen not to go through that unnecessary pain and turmoil.
Does having breasts make me more of a woman? I don't think so. I'm still the same person I was before surgery, only my physical appearance has changed and I've developed a stronger resolve. Does Bruce Jenner instantly become a woman just because he decided to have breast implants? No! He was born a male and he'll die a male. It doesn't matter what he does to enhance his body to make himself look like a female.
Of course I get a little down in the dumps when I put on clothes and they don't fit quite right any longer. Instead of my breasts filling out the areas the designer created them to fill, now there are indented, draping spaces revealing my booblessness. Yes, I can put on my prostheses and instantly change things, but I don't like the deception. I've been through a hell of a war and I've suffered great battle wounds.
So please pardon my melancholy mood today. As I think back over the past year, I am amazed at how quickly the time has passed. On Thursday, I'll remember the day my life changed forever and hopefully, I'll be able to look back and see all the great things God did during that year. It's still a journey and one I'll continue for the rest of my life. I just have to keep reminding myself to take one day at a time.
©bonnie annis all rights reserved
Monday, June 29, 2015
Inside out
Since my last post, I feel like I've been turned inside out. I've faced a gamut of emotions and no, they are not cancer related. First of all, let me give you the update on my ultrasound report - everything came back good. That was a huge praise and the oncologist said if I keep having pain, he'll do a CT scan. I was also supposed to have an MRI on my spine because of pain I've been suffering lately, but I had to cancel that test due to insurance issues. We have had changes to our insurance and have a much higher deductible this year (which we haven't yet met). If I'd had the MRI done, I would have had to pay $700 out of pocket up front and we didn't have that kind of money so I made the decision to forego the test. I'm praying that everything will be okay and that the pain isn't an indicator that the cancer has embedded in my spinal column. Those are palpable pains I've dealt with. Physical pain is much easier to handle than emotional pain.
I have been struggling for the past week over the sudden death of my very best friend, Gerri. Gerri and I were very close friends and always teased each other saying we were sisters from other mothers. We went to seminary together and worked together. We were joined at the hip so to speak. She used to call me her "Ace Boon Coon," which I didn't understand until I Googled it. (It means a very best, loyal friend.) That was a good definition of our relationship. Gerri just "got" me.
I never had to pretend around Gerri. She knew everything about me and loved me anyway. That's rare to find these days in any friend, but she was unique in that way. She loved me even when I was unlovable. Gerri didn't care if my hair was fixed or if I wore makeup. Those trivial things didn't matter one bit to her. She just wanted to be with me and when we were together, we were like Mutt and Jeff...we were, as she put it "besties."
Last week, I had texted her to see what she was up to and she replied with a "hey, girlie girl." (That was another term of endearment she used with me.) We chatted a while and made plans to go get our hair done together. Gerri knew of a great stylist that she'd been going to for years. She told me she'd call Bethany and see if we could get back to back appointments. We planned to make a day of it, and we did.
Our sweet husbands drove us to Carrollton to the salon. Gerri went first because her hair was uber short and she was only getting a trim and her purple streak recolored. Gerri was bold that way. She always wanted to make a statement. She didn't care what other people thought of her, she just lived her life to the fullest. Bethany called us back and sat us in chairs that were side by side. She began to work on Gerri as we talked and made plans for the rest of our day. As Bethany began to work on Gerri, I couldn't help but smile as the pink foils were placed in her hair after the dark purple dye was applied. Gerri looked at me and said, "WHAT???" I started to laugh and told her she looked so funny. Then it was my turn.
Bethany worked on me for over an hour. I was getting a full head of highlights so she must have put in close to 100 foils. As Bethany worked, Gerri started to smile and talk about my family, asking how each one of my children and grandchildren were. She told me that my husband, Phil, was a good man and it was evident that he loved me. I glanced over to the waiting area to look at my sweet husband who was sitting patiently with Gerri's husband, Doc. How many guys do you know that would sit in a salon for over 2 hours waiting on their wives to get their hair done and not voice a word of complaint? Not many, I can assure you. After our hair was finished, we went to check out and make our next appointments. Once again, we made them together.
Once in the car, Gerri and I began to talk. Somehow, the subject of death was brought up and Gerri said, "when I die, I want to be cremated." I told her that I'd planned the same thing and said I'd already purchased an urn. I told her I kept it in the living room on the floor by my bookcase and if it survived being kicked over and broken, that I planned to have it used to carry my ashes over to Cumberland Island where I'll be sprinkled one day. Gerri listened intently and then said, "I want to be planted." "Planted?" I said. "Yes. I found a company that sells these little pots with dirt and a tree seedling in them and they say you can have your ashes mixed in with it and be planted." I looked at her in surprise and she continued, "I want to be planted where my grandchildren can climb up on my limbs one day." As I listened, I heard a deep sadness behind Gerri's comments.
After dinner, we drove back to Gerri's house to visit a little longer. When we got inside, Gerri sat down in her recliner. I could tell she was tired and I was too. She saw me adjusting my bra and said, "You know, you don't have to wear those things for me. Why don't you take them off?" She knew my prostheses were very heavy and hot in the summertime. They'd been riding up all day and I'd been having to yank them back down into place. She told me there were some empty bags in the kitchen and I could get one of those to put my "boobs" in, so I took one and headed toward her bathroom.
When I came back into the living room, we smiled at one another. "See, doesn't that feel better?" she said. "Yes! I hate those things!" I said. Gerri told me I should just not wear them and I agreed with her. She knew me well. She knew it embarrassed me to go out in public with out my "boobs" on. Gerri told me I needed a vest like hers. She said the vest was good camouflage and that often, she went braless. She told me that no one ever knew because she had the vest on to hide herself but it was so much more comfortable than wearing a restricting bra. We had a good laugh over it and then Doc, Gerri's husband, began tinkering with a new Bluetooth receiver he'd just gotten in the mail.
I made the mistake of asking Doc how loud his surround sound speakers would go. Doc loves music just about better than anything and I knew he'd enjoy cranking it up a little for a good cause. Gerri shot me an "oh, thanks a lot, Bonnie" glance and put her fingers in her ears. Doc increased the volume and we were surrounded by melodious notes.
The sun was going down and I told Gerri we'd better be getting on back home. As we said our goodbyes, I gave her a big hug and started down the stairs. She called me back and said she wanted just one more hug, so I obliged. We got in our car and waved as we pulled off.
On Friday, June 26th, I got a Facebook message from one of my seminary professors, Dr. Gary Greene. Gary had been the instructor for a class that Gerri and I had taken together. I hadn't talked to him in years, so when I received his message to contact him, I was taken aback. When I got in touch with him, he asked if I'd heard about Gerri. I replied that I had not and he proceeded to ask me to call him. I knew at that point that something was very wrong.
Gary answered my call almost immediately. Again, he asked if I'd heard about Gerri. I responded that I had not and asked what was wrong. Gary told me that Gerri was dead. I could not believe my ears and at first, thought he was playing some sort of sick joke on me. I questioned him, asking if he was sure and how did he know...who gave him the information, and he said he'd heard from one of his neighbors who was also a friend of Doc and Gerri's.
Immediately I called Gerri's cell phone number. I don't know why I did it, I guess I was just in shock and needed answers. Doc answered and I asked if Gerri was okay. He told me that she had passed away. I asked what happened and he recounted the story to me. Now it was starting to sink in, my best friend, the one person I felt knew me inside and out, was gone.
My heart was broken and it took days to process Gerri's death. I'm still struggling with it today. The only thing that gives me consolation is knowing that I will see her again one day. Gerri was a Christian. She loved the Lord with all her heart and wanted others to know it.
Gerri and I were so much alike. One of the things that drew us to one another was knowing our pasts were so similar. We were able to accept each other, warts and all. We never judged one another, we just loved one another.
I'm so thankful for last Friday. Spending those minutes and hours with my "bestie" will forever be etched into my memory. I can still see her sweet smile in my mind as she sat in the salon chair, hear head sporting pink foils clipped together on top of her head full of cropped hair. I'm thankful I had an inkling, while at dinner, to snap a cell phone photo of Gerri and Doc. Little did I know it would be the last time I'd ever see them together. I'm so thankful I had the opportunity to tell her I loved her as we left their house that evening and I'm so thankful I agreed to go back for that second hug. Oh, if I'd been in a hurry, I might not have taken the time to give her one last squeeze.
I think God knew I'd need these sweet memories to cling to this week as I've struggled to process Gerri's death. I know Gerri's in the presence of her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Her body isn't in pain any longer. She doesn't have to struggle in this wicked world for one more second either. My heart still aches for my sweet friend but I know I'll see her again one day. I can almost hear Gerri telling me to "suck it up and move on." She was very blunt at times but very honest to a fault.
I loved my "Ace Boon Coon" and I know she loved me too. I'm so thankful God allowed us to meet all those years ago at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary. He knew we'd be important parts of each others' lives and for that, I've extremely grateful.
© bonnie annis all rights reserved
 |
| Gerri and I |
I never had to pretend around Gerri. She knew everything about me and loved me anyway. That's rare to find these days in any friend, but she was unique in that way. She loved me even when I was unlovable. Gerri didn't care if my hair was fixed or if I wore makeup. Those trivial things didn't matter one bit to her. She just wanted to be with me and when we were together, we were like Mutt and Jeff...we were, as she put it "besties."
Last week, I had texted her to see what she was up to and she replied with a "hey, girlie girl." (That was another term of endearment she used with me.) We chatted a while and made plans to go get our hair done together. Gerri knew of a great stylist that she'd been going to for years. She told me she'd call Bethany and see if we could get back to back appointments. We planned to make a day of it, and we did.
Our sweet husbands drove us to Carrollton to the salon. Gerri went first because her hair was uber short and she was only getting a trim and her purple streak recolored. Gerri was bold that way. She always wanted to make a statement. She didn't care what other people thought of her, she just lived her life to the fullest. Bethany called us back and sat us in chairs that were side by side. She began to work on Gerri as we talked and made plans for the rest of our day. As Bethany began to work on Gerri, I couldn't help but smile as the pink foils were placed in her hair after the dark purple dye was applied. Gerri looked at me and said, "WHAT???" I started to laugh and told her she looked so funny. Then it was my turn.
Bethany worked on me for over an hour. I was getting a full head of highlights so she must have put in close to 100 foils. As Bethany worked, Gerri started to smile and talk about my family, asking how each one of my children and grandchildren were. She told me that my husband, Phil, was a good man and it was evident that he loved me. I glanced over to the waiting area to look at my sweet husband who was sitting patiently with Gerri's husband, Doc. How many guys do you know that would sit in a salon for over 2 hours waiting on their wives to get their hair done and not voice a word of complaint? Not many, I can assure you. After our hair was finished, we went to check out and make our next appointments. Once again, we made them together.
 |
| Gerri with her foils getting her purple streak |
Once in the car, Gerri and I began to talk. Somehow, the subject of death was brought up and Gerri said, "when I die, I want to be cremated." I told her that I'd planned the same thing and said I'd already purchased an urn. I told her I kept it in the living room on the floor by my bookcase and if it survived being kicked over and broken, that I planned to have it used to carry my ashes over to Cumberland Island where I'll be sprinkled one day. Gerri listened intently and then said, "I want to be planted." "Planted?" I said. "Yes. I found a company that sells these little pots with dirt and a tree seedling in them and they say you can have your ashes mixed in with it and be planted." I looked at her in surprise and she continued, "I want to be planted where my grandchildren can climb up on my limbs one day." As I listened, I heard a deep sadness behind Gerri's comments.
 |
| Me in foils getting my highlights |
When I came back into the living room, we smiled at one another. "See, doesn't that feel better?" she said. "Yes! I hate those things!" I said. Gerri told me I should just not wear them and I agreed with her. She knew me well. She knew it embarrassed me to go out in public with out my "boobs" on. Gerri told me I needed a vest like hers. She said the vest was good camouflage and that often, she went braless. She told me that no one ever knew because she had the vest on to hide herself but it was so much more comfortable than wearing a restricting bra. We had a good laugh over it and then Doc, Gerri's husband, began tinkering with a new Bluetooth receiver he'd just gotten in the mail.
I made the mistake of asking Doc how loud his surround sound speakers would go. Doc loves music just about better than anything and I knew he'd enjoy cranking it up a little for a good cause. Gerri shot me an "oh, thanks a lot, Bonnie" glance and put her fingers in her ears. Doc increased the volume and we were surrounded by melodious notes.
The sun was going down and I told Gerri we'd better be getting on back home. As we said our goodbyes, I gave her a big hug and started down the stairs. She called me back and said she wanted just one more hug, so I obliged. We got in our car and waved as we pulled off.
On Friday, June 26th, I got a Facebook message from one of my seminary professors, Dr. Gary Greene. Gary had been the instructor for a class that Gerri and I had taken together. I hadn't talked to him in years, so when I received his message to contact him, I was taken aback. When I got in touch with him, he asked if I'd heard about Gerri. I replied that I had not and he proceeded to ask me to call him. I knew at that point that something was very wrong.
Gary answered my call almost immediately. Again, he asked if I'd heard about Gerri. I responded that I had not and asked what was wrong. Gary told me that Gerri was dead. I could not believe my ears and at first, thought he was playing some sort of sick joke on me. I questioned him, asking if he was sure and how did he know...who gave him the information, and he said he'd heard from one of his neighbors who was also a friend of Doc and Gerri's.
Immediately I called Gerri's cell phone number. I don't know why I did it, I guess I was just in shock and needed answers. Doc answered and I asked if Gerri was okay. He told me that she had passed away. I asked what happened and he recounted the story to me. Now it was starting to sink in, my best friend, the one person I felt knew me inside and out, was gone.
My heart was broken and it took days to process Gerri's death. I'm still struggling with it today. The only thing that gives me consolation is knowing that I will see her again one day. Gerri was a Christian. She loved the Lord with all her heart and wanted others to know it.
Gerri and I were so much alike. One of the things that drew us to one another was knowing our pasts were so similar. We were able to accept each other, warts and all. We never judged one another, we just loved one another.
I think God knew I'd need these sweet memories to cling to this week as I've struggled to process Gerri's death. I know Gerri's in the presence of her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Her body isn't in pain any longer. She doesn't have to struggle in this wicked world for one more second either. My heart still aches for my sweet friend but I know I'll see her again one day. I can almost hear Gerri telling me to "suck it up and move on." She was very blunt at times but very honest to a fault.
I loved my "Ace Boon Coon" and I know she loved me too. I'm so thankful God allowed us to meet all those years ago at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary. He knew we'd be important parts of each others' lives and for that, I've extremely grateful.
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| Gerri and her son, Jeff |
© bonnie annis all rights reserved
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Drink up!
Dr. Feinstein was surprised when I mentioned ovarian pain today at my appointment. "How do you know it's your ovary?" he said. I explained to him that as a teen, I suffered from ovarian pain and frequently had pelvic ultrasounds that revealed functional cysts. "You shouldn't be having any ovarian pain," he remarked. In my head, I was thinking, I know that doc, why do you think I mentioned it? "Your ovaries shouldn't be producing any Estrogen since you're past menopause. How long has the pain been going on?" he said. I told him it had been constant for the past 3 months. I knew it was coming, so I wasn't surprised when he ordered a pelvic ultrasound. Oh, goody, I thought...another invasive test.
The worst part about having a pelvic ultrasound (other than the humiliation of having a complete stranger insert a foreign object into your hoohah) is having to go in for the test with a full bladder. I was told to drink at least 32 ounces of water before arriving for the test. I don't like my bladder to be full, in fact, I empty it often. So when I was reminded again, as I left the office, "be sure and drink lots of water before your test," I cringed.
You know how hospitals are, don't you? They schedule you for a 1:00 p.m. test and you may, you MAY get called back an hour later. If I was going to have to present myself with a very full bladder and then have to sit and wait for over an hour before being called back for my test, I wasn't so sure I could make it. Perhaps I should stop by the drugstore and buy some of those little leakage pads just in case....you know, someone could tell a really funny joke in the waiting room and I might just laugh so hard I'd spill a little urine or heaven forbid, I have to sneeze! Maybe I should just carry one of those WET FLOOR signs in with me when I arrive and place it strategically beside me...just in case...
What I'm thinking:
I'm glad my doctor is being proactive. At least he heard what I said and scheduled a test ASAP. I'm not looking forward to exposing my hoohah...it's so embarrassing! I hope they don't make me wait long. I really can't hold it for more than an hour or two at most, and it's not healthy to cross your legs, they say, but crossing your ankles is okay. I don't want to have an accident so I'm praying that I can find a parking space close to the door. It would be tragic to have to waddle across the entire length of the parking lot with a "filled to the brim" bladder and accidentally arrive with wet britches. So, tomorrow is the big day. I guess I'd better make sure I'm all clean and shiny down there which reminds me of a joke, I just have to tell here: An elderly lady lived with her middle aged daughter and had been with her for quite some time. Her health had started to deteriorate, so the loving daughter began to make doctors' appointments for her mother. The mother was compliant and agreed to go to these appointments. She knew her daughter only wanted the very best for her. The daughter made an appointment with the regular primary care physician who gave the mother a clean bill of health, she made an appointment with the gastroenterologist and her mother's upper GI tract checked out just fine. She made an appointment with the gynecologist, just to be sure her mom was okay from head to toe. When she told her mother about this last appointment, her mother took a little longer to get ready than she had for each of the other doctors. Her daughter began to get concerned and knocked on the bathroom door. "Mom, are you okay?" she said. "Yes, dear," her mother replied. When they entered the gynecologist's office, the doctor asked the mother why she was there. The mother replied, "to appease my daughter. She wants me to get checked out from head to toe and everywhere else in between." "I see," said the doctor and he began to help the old woman up onto his table. As she lay back, in preparation for the exam, the doctor lifted the sheet. "My, Mrs. Ingram, don't you look fancy today!" "Why, thank you," exclaimed the mother. After the exam was over, the doctor assured the daughter that everything was just fine. On the way home from the doctor's office, the daughter asked her mother what she thought of the doctor. "He was nice, but a little odd," the old woman said. "How was he odd?" said the daughter. "Well, when he lifted up the sheet, he said my don't you look fancy today, Mrs. Ingram." "That is a little strange," said the daughter. "Mother, did you do anything different to yourself as you prepared for the visit today?" "Well, I did want to make sure I didn't smell down there, so I used some of your feminine spray, the can you had sitting on the counter behind the toilet." "OMG, Mom! That wasn't feminine spray! That was Haley's glitter spray! No wonder the doctor said you looked fancy! You had a sparkling, glittery hoohah!" The mother slapped her hand over her mouth in horror and then burst out laughing. They laughed all the way home with the doctor's words ringing in their heads, "My, Mrs. Ingram, don't you look fancy today!"
© bonnie annis all rights reserved
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Oh my aching back
Today was my 6 month checkup with the Radiation Oncologist. I wasn't really looking forward to going to see her, mainly because I'm a little tired of doctors lately, but I went. My appointment was at 1:00 p.m. so I arrived promptly at 12:45 p.m. I don't like to be late to appointments. I went in and sat in the waiting room for about 15 minutes before being called back. Chrissy, the R.N., was new. She immediately started explaining that she was here from another office and she added, "I'm hot!" I must have given her a puzzled look because she began going into a long explanation about how she'd been having hot flashes lately. I wanted to scream out, "TMI, TMI!" (too much information).
Chrissy led me back to the scale and after recording my weight, motioned for me to enter the exam room. She asked me to have a seat and then began the barrage of questions...what medications are you on, are you in any pain, what level is your pain on a scale of 1-10, etc. After she'd jotted down notes on me, she began telling me all about her...she kept complaining about her hot flashes and I told her she needed to put her long hair up into a pony tail and maybe splash some cool water on her face. I tried to be merciful but this was very unprofessional. She was there to do her job as a nurse, asking questions and gathering information to present to the doctor when she walked into my exam room. Instead, this nurse was giving me a list of her own complaints. Finally, she left the room and as she was leaving she said, "oh, the air conditioning feels so cool right here!" She stood in the hallway under the a/c vent for a few minutes and I jokingly said, "are you going to stand there the rest of the day?" She laughed and said she would like to but she'd better get busy.
About 30 minutes later, Dr. S came into the room and began apologizing for being late. She'd been at the hospital checking on a patient and had been delayed. She began examining me and feeling along my surgical incisions asking if I'd felt any new lumps or bumps. I told her I don't usually feel around looking for any so I wasn't really sure. She noted the swelling in my upper arms and asked me if I'd always had that. I explained it was Lymphedema since breast surgery. She then asked if I had a followup scheduled with the breast surgeon. When I told her I had an appointment in August, she replied, "has she scheduled your mammograms?" I couldn't believe what I had heard. I probably shouldn't have, but I replied, "ummm, I don't think you have to have mammograms any longer when you don't have any boobs." Talk about embarrassed...Dr. S. turned bright red and said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I'd forgotten you had both breasts removed." I felt like she was a little off her game. Maybe she was still in hospital mode.
When the doc began asking me if I'd been experiencing any problems, I explained I'd been extremely fatigued lately and I'd also been having some unusual pain in my upper back. She asked me to try and describe the pain and I told her it was like a dull aching all the time. I watched her write down a bunch of notes and then she told me she wanted me to have a complete spinal MRI. She mentioned concern about the pain and said she didn't want to worry me, that she didn't think it was cancer but she wanted to make sure. Great. Try not to scare me but do...just what I needed to hear.
So I have an appointment scheduled the first week of July. Dr. S was kind enough to give me a prescription for Ativan to help with claustrophobia in the MRI tube. I guess this test will take care of our annual deductible for insurance.
What I'm really thinking:
I hope the cancer hasn't come back and taken up residence in my spine. I saw how much pain my aunt went through when her breast cancer metastasized into her bones. I don't think I can deal with that. I'm glad Dr. S prescribed an anti-anxiety medication. Ever since I was trapped in that elevator, I've had a terrible time with claustrophobia. Don't they have open MRI's? I wonder why she didn't order an open MRI test? How will I handle it if the report shows it is cancer? What if they find something else like a fractured disk or some spinal abnormality? I guess I'll know the answer to all those questions and more in about 2 weeks. Until then, I'm just going to try not to think about it. I don't like this.
Chrissy led me back to the scale and after recording my weight, motioned for me to enter the exam room. She asked me to have a seat and then began the barrage of questions...what medications are you on, are you in any pain, what level is your pain on a scale of 1-10, etc. After she'd jotted down notes on me, she began telling me all about her...she kept complaining about her hot flashes and I told her she needed to put her long hair up into a pony tail and maybe splash some cool water on her face. I tried to be merciful but this was very unprofessional. She was there to do her job as a nurse, asking questions and gathering information to present to the doctor when she walked into my exam room. Instead, this nurse was giving me a list of her own complaints. Finally, she left the room and as she was leaving she said, "oh, the air conditioning feels so cool right here!" She stood in the hallway under the a/c vent for a few minutes and I jokingly said, "are you going to stand there the rest of the day?" She laughed and said she would like to but she'd better get busy.
About 30 minutes later, Dr. S came into the room and began apologizing for being late. She'd been at the hospital checking on a patient and had been delayed. She began examining me and feeling along my surgical incisions asking if I'd felt any new lumps or bumps. I told her I don't usually feel around looking for any so I wasn't really sure. She noted the swelling in my upper arms and asked me if I'd always had that. I explained it was Lymphedema since breast surgery. She then asked if I had a followup scheduled with the breast surgeon. When I told her I had an appointment in August, she replied, "has she scheduled your mammograms?" I couldn't believe what I had heard. I probably shouldn't have, but I replied, "ummm, I don't think you have to have mammograms any longer when you don't have any boobs." Talk about embarrassed...Dr. S. turned bright red and said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I'd forgotten you had both breasts removed." I felt like she was a little off her game. Maybe she was still in hospital mode.
When the doc began asking me if I'd been experiencing any problems, I explained I'd been extremely fatigued lately and I'd also been having some unusual pain in my upper back. She asked me to try and describe the pain and I told her it was like a dull aching all the time. I watched her write down a bunch of notes and then she told me she wanted me to have a complete spinal MRI. She mentioned concern about the pain and said she didn't want to worry me, that she didn't think it was cancer but she wanted to make sure. Great. Try not to scare me but do...just what I needed to hear.
So I have an appointment scheduled the first week of July. Dr. S was kind enough to give me a prescription for Ativan to help with claustrophobia in the MRI tube. I guess this test will take care of our annual deductible for insurance.
What I'm really thinking:
I hope the cancer hasn't come back and taken up residence in my spine. I saw how much pain my aunt went through when her breast cancer metastasized into her bones. I don't think I can deal with that. I'm glad Dr. S prescribed an anti-anxiety medication. Ever since I was trapped in that elevator, I've had a terrible time with claustrophobia. Don't they have open MRI's? I wonder why she didn't order an open MRI test? How will I handle it if the report shows it is cancer? What if they find something else like a fractured disk or some spinal abnormality? I guess I'll know the answer to all those questions and more in about 2 weeks. Until then, I'm just going to try not to think about it. I don't like this.
Friday, June 12, 2015
Just enough grace
This morning, I woke up really, really tired. I feel like I'm trudging through the day like an old diver in a lead suit on the bottom of the ocean floor. Every movement takes such effort. Since my cancer battle began, I've had both extremely good days and very challenging days. Today is one of the challenging days.
I drug myself into the kitchen for a bowl of cereal. Just getting the bowl out of the china cabinet was difficult. I felt like every cell in my body was revolting. What is wrong with me??? Why do I feel this way today??? I don't normally feel this tired.
I ate my bowl of cereal and sat there for a long time. I didn't even have the strength to think, I just sat. Staring out the window, I watched the leaves on the trees. The wind wasn't blowing, I just stared at them.
Getting up from the table, I put my bowl in the sink and began to walk down the hallway toward my office. Instead of continuing on toward my destination, I opened the door to our guest bedroom and went over to the bed. I just needed to lie down. I was so very, very tired.
I lay on the bed for about 30 minutes. I didn't sleep, didn't think, didn't do anything but lie there. I didn't have the energy to move. The bed felt so nice and comforting. It was cool in the bedroom and a little dark since I hadn't turned on the light. If I could have, I would have fallen asleep, but I wasn't really sleepy...just physically drained.
After I'd been on the bed for a while, I prayed for God to give me the strength I need to get through the day and this is what I felt Him saying to me: "My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness..." I was surely weak today, so He must surely be strong!
I was reminded, as I made myself get up, that He gives us just enough grace to get through each day. I know He expects me to live this day in the power of His strength, leaning on His wisdom, drawing on His presence and power. I know I can't make it on my own strength, because I don't have any today.
I can't put my finger on why I'm so tired. I slept fairly well last night. I'm wondering if my Vitamin D level is extremely low again. I don't want to even consider the fact that it might be something else...something like a recurrence, so I refuse to let my mind go there.
"It's okay to rest today, Mom," said my daughter as we talked on the phone. I tell her that I feel so guilty when I'm not doing something and she chides me lovingly. I guess I'll take her advice and just watch a movie or read a book. Maybe tomorrow I'll have more energy. I sure hope so because I don't like feeling this way at all.
Maybe on the days when I feel so wiped out, that's God's way of alerting me to the fact that I need to slow down just a little. I've been trying so hard to do all the things I did B.C. (before cancer). My husband tells me we're getting older too and while I know that's true, I don't want to make excuses for my lack of energy.
Would you say a prayer for me today? I know I surely need it. Thank you in advance and now, I'm going to just go sit and do nothing for a while.
p.s. It was really hard to make myself come into the office and type this today but I want to always give you a clear picture of the challenges I'm facing. I try to be brave and fight through things like this daily but honestly, it's really difficult some days.
©bonnie annis all rights reserved
Scripture references:
"But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me." 2 Corinthians 12:9
"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Matthew 6:34
"Let us then approach God's throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need." Hebrews 4:16
"The LORD'S lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, For His compassions never fail. 23They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness." Lamentations 3:22-23
I drug myself into the kitchen for a bowl of cereal. Just getting the bowl out of the china cabinet was difficult. I felt like every cell in my body was revolting. What is wrong with me??? Why do I feel this way today??? I don't normally feel this tired.
I ate my bowl of cereal and sat there for a long time. I didn't even have the strength to think, I just sat. Staring out the window, I watched the leaves on the trees. The wind wasn't blowing, I just stared at them.
Getting up from the table, I put my bowl in the sink and began to walk down the hallway toward my office. Instead of continuing on toward my destination, I opened the door to our guest bedroom and went over to the bed. I just needed to lie down. I was so very, very tired.
I lay on the bed for about 30 minutes. I didn't sleep, didn't think, didn't do anything but lie there. I didn't have the energy to move. The bed felt so nice and comforting. It was cool in the bedroom and a little dark since I hadn't turned on the light. If I could have, I would have fallen asleep, but I wasn't really sleepy...just physically drained.
After I'd been on the bed for a while, I prayed for God to give me the strength I need to get through the day and this is what I felt Him saying to me: "My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness..." I was surely weak today, so He must surely be strong!
I was reminded, as I made myself get up, that He gives us just enough grace to get through each day. I know He expects me to live this day in the power of His strength, leaning on His wisdom, drawing on His presence and power. I know I can't make it on my own strength, because I don't have any today.
I can't put my finger on why I'm so tired. I slept fairly well last night. I'm wondering if my Vitamin D level is extremely low again. I don't want to even consider the fact that it might be something else...something like a recurrence, so I refuse to let my mind go there.
"It's okay to rest today, Mom," said my daughter as we talked on the phone. I tell her that I feel so guilty when I'm not doing something and she chides me lovingly. I guess I'll take her advice and just watch a movie or read a book. Maybe tomorrow I'll have more energy. I sure hope so because I don't like feeling this way at all.
Maybe on the days when I feel so wiped out, that's God's way of alerting me to the fact that I need to slow down just a little. I've been trying so hard to do all the things I did B.C. (before cancer). My husband tells me we're getting older too and while I know that's true, I don't want to make excuses for my lack of energy.
Would you say a prayer for me today? I know I surely need it. Thank you in advance and now, I'm going to just go sit and do nothing for a while.
p.s. It was really hard to make myself come into the office and type this today but I want to always give you a clear picture of the challenges I'm facing. I try to be brave and fight through things like this daily but honestly, it's really difficult some days.
©bonnie annis all rights reserved
Scripture references:
"But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me." 2 Corinthians 12:9
"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Matthew 6:34
"Let us then approach God's throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need." Hebrews 4:16
"The LORD'S lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, For His compassions never fail. 23They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness." Lamentations 3:22-23
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Today is a good day
Today, my arms aren't swollen yet. My bones don't ache and my muscles don't feel like they're all kinked up in knots. I think today will be a good day.
I get up and make my bed. As I spread the down comforter over my mountain of pillows, I have to laugh. Who, in their right mind, sleeps with a down comforter on their bed during the month of June in Georgia? But I've always been cold natured and I guess it's better than the electric blanket (which I took off the bed last month). Hubby has learned to let me do whatever it takes to feel comfortable and if that means letting me sleep with a down comforter, even though it's 90 degrees outside, he does it. Of course, I make concessions. I do turn the thermostat down to 74 degrees and we use a ceiling fan to make the room comfortable for him.
My hubby is a giver and I've become a taker. I never used to be a taker, but trying to find a way to sleep comfortably has forced me to become one. In the previous paragraph, I mentioned my mountain of pillows. You wouldn't believe the number of pillows it takes to help me feel comfortable at night. I have two pillows under my head, two under each arm, and one under my knees. Inevitably, those pillows start out in a nice, neat little mountain when we first get into bed but as the night goes on, I toss and turn and the pillows shift everywhere.
I usually get 2/3 of the bed and my poor, loving husband gets the other 1/3 if he's lucky. Sometimes, during the middle of the night, when I get up to use the restroom, I see him clinging to the edge of the bed. My heart hurts because I know he'll never complain. He knows how much trouble I have sleeping and he's willing to sacrifice so I can gain a few precious hours of sleep.
After making the bed and getting dressed, I go into the kitchen to make myself breakfast. As I eat my actual food, I feed myself on spiritual food from the Bible. This is a regular morning routine for me and it provides me with assurance that God is with me. As I read, I'm reminded that He is always with me. He knows my fears and my insecurities and yet, He loves me through them.
After my devotion and prayer time, I start to work on the house. Laundry and dishes are a constant but I don't mind. I'm just thankful I have the energy to do them today. Some days I don't, but today, so far, is a good day.
I drag the heavy vacuum cleaner from the closet. It's such a challenge to pull that thing around! My arms are so weak since surgery but I do it slowly and surely. I told my husband the other day that I didn't think I could keep tugging the vacuum around because it's so heavy and he told me to order a new light weight vacuum cleaner! And so I did! I am so thankful this will be the last time I have to fight with this one.
Finally, I finish cleaning and I am surprised to find that I still have some energy. Most days, my energy has gone by early afternoon. I decide to make a batch of oatmeal cookies. Hubby loves cookies and this will be a nice surprise for him when he comes home from work.
Pulling out my mixing bowl, I began to measure ingredients into it. First comes the oatmeal, then the flour, and spices. Next the melted butter, the raisins, and the eggs. As I crack each eggshell, I am reminded how fragile they are...just one tiny tap is all it took to shatter the thin, white, protective covering. As I mix all the ingredients together, I can't help but think about my life...just like the cookie batter, it takes some sweet and not so sweet ingredients to make it work.
The cookies smell divine as they are baking. I can't wait for them to get done so I can taste one. It has been a long time since I've baked anything. The cinnamon and the vanilla are wafting through the air. The timer is counting down. I am salivating! As soon as the timer goes off, I carefully lift the cookies from the oven. They look perfect! I am so proud!
As I bring the warm cookie to my mouth, I savor each bite. I let the texture of the oatmeal wash over my tongue and the sweet chewiness of the raisins dance in my mouth. What a simple pleasure and it is gone in an instant. I pick up another cookie and in just a few bites, it disappears too. Oh my gosh! These are so addictive! I haven't had sugar in months and now, I am out of control!
I take just one more cookie from the baking sheet. I decide to make this one last as long as possible. Bit by bit, I pinch off tiny bites and slip them into my mouth. All my senses are stimulated as the ingredients tickle each of my taste buds. My cell phone rings and I walk away from the kitchen. It's a good thing I did otherwise, I'd have probably eaten the entire tray of cookies!
It's mid afternoon now and I'm still feeling good. My energy has slowed just a little bit, but I'm still planning to tackle a few more projects while I can. The good days far outnumber the bad days for me lately and I'm so thankful. For many months it was the other way around. I don't take these days for granted because they are such blessings. Just being able to go through my daily routine brings me such joy.
The smell of the oatmeal cookies has filled every nook and cranny. That delectable aroma is so enticing, but I'm making myself avoid the kitchen at all costs. Maybe after supper, I'll sneak just one more cookie...afterall, it's been a really good day!
©bonnie annis all rights reserved
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