Suck it up and suck it out!

I feel like I'm always behind when posting on my blog but sometimes it's a little easier to write things after they've already happened. Yesterday was one of those days. I don't think I could have written yesterday if I'd really wanted to because I was in so much pain.

Since surgery this past Friday, I'd been hearing a strange noise emanating from my chest cavity. It was most prevalent when I'd turn in bed, trying to find a little comfort. At first, I thought it was my imagination...surely I couldn't be sloshing...that was ridiculous. I'd just had surgery. What would have been left in my chest to make a liquid sound? The only thing I could think of was blood.

So when the doctor's office called to check on me, I knew I had to mention it, this sloshing. At first, i thought the nurse would think I was a nut case...yeah, right, Mrs. Annis...you're sloshing...okay, really? But then I figured if I didn't say anything at all, this could be an important development and it might go from interesting to serious in a short time. When the nurse asked how I was, I heard myself say, "I'm doing okay but there's this weird sloshing noise." There was a moment of silence on the phone. The nurse had to process what she just heard. Sloshing, did she say "sloshing?" When she realized I had indeed said that I was sloshing, she said she needed to talk to the doctor. She'd call me back in a little while. I waited. She called later and said she'd talked to the doctor and the doc wanted me to be seen asap. I had an appointment at 2:30 p.m. on Tuesday afternoon. I knew what was coming and I didn't want to go.

Upon arrival at the doctor's office, the receptionist greeted me. I sat in the waiting room with my daughter and my granddaughter. We watched several people come and go. When was it going to be my turn? After about fifteen minutes, I was called back and put into an exam room. The nurse was polite and said I'd only be there until the woman in the next room was done with her appointment. It seems the ultrasound machine was in the next room and they were going to need it to work on me.

After about half an hour, I wondered if they'd forgotten me. My bladder was screaming so I went out into the hallway and asked a nurse where the restroom was located. Murphy's law says as soon as you get up to go pee, the doctor will come and be ready to see you. Sure enough, it worked. While I was in the restroom, the doctor was waiting on me.

When I exited the restroom, the doctor was in the hallway. She ushered me into the ultrasound room and began talking to me. "So, I hear you're a little squishy today?" I wanted to laugh, but it wasn't funny. I told her I was pretty sloshy and she had me remove my shirt and sit up on the exam table. As she mushed around on my chest, I could see the pocket of fluid underneath my skin. She continued manipulating my chest and as she hovered over the lower right hand side, I cringed. I knew as soon as she touched me there, I was going to be in extreme pain. I winced as she pressed firmly and told her I was really hurting there. She explained it was normal for me to hurt there. That's where she removed the dead tissue on Friday. That's where she had to scrape and work so hard to take all the bad stuff out. Oh.

I watched as the doc pulled packets of gauze, some needles, some syringes, antibiotic, Lidocaine, and other items from her crash cart. As she began setting up, I knew it was not going to be pretty. She draped a blue sterile pad across my lap and laughed as she said she was going to try to keep my clothes dry.

She took a syringe and inserted a needle. Then she drew up about 300cc of Lidocaine. As she was drawing up the numbing medicine, she looked at me and smiled..."no worries, no pain for you today." I smiled back and thought I hope she's right.

An antiseptic swab was rubbed over the center of my chest and then the doc said, "little stick." I felt what amounted to a small bee sting and she said, "how was that?" I told her it wasn't bad. She waited a few minutes for the Lidocaine to kick in and then she screwed a larger needle onto the syringe. As she readied the needle, I squeezed my eyes tightly closed. I didn't want to see her insert it. I felt the pressure as the needle went in. The doc knew exactly how deep she could penetrate my skin because she'd already scanned it with the ultrasound machine. I was thankful she had one in her office!

I opened my eyes to see a syringe full of dark blood red liquid being extracted from my chest. She told me I could keep my eyes closed and I told her I'd rather keep them open. I explained that I had wanted to be in the medical field at one point in my life and the blood and gore didn't bother me. She asked why I hadn't pursued my desire to work in medicine and I told her because my life changed and I started having my family. She smiled and told me she understood.

She emptied the first syringe into the red bio-hazard container and took another from the crash cart. She plunged the needle deep into the center of my chest and drew up another full syringe of bloody fluid. This procedure was repeated for a total of 5 and 1/2 times before she stopped. On the last vial of blood, the doc told me she didn't want to suction me totally dry because my insides were so traumatized from radiation and surgery. She said they needed a little cushioning to keep things loose and where they could heal nicely.

When she was done, the doc called in her assistant. They took 2 large ace bandages and wound them tightly around my chest. The compression, she said, would help keep my chest cavity from swelling up with fluid again. As I left, she told me to check on the swelling daily. If it got worse or felt hot to touch, I needed to call her immediately. I was given a prescription for antibiotic as I left the office. The doc wanted me to take it for 10 days.

When I got home, I pulled an ice pack out of the freezer and placed it on the insertion site. I was already sore from the surgery and now the Lidocaine was wearing off leaving me in even more pain. My husband and my daughter could tell I wasn't feeling well. It had been a rough day.

What I'm thinking: 
I was thankful my breast surgeon was skilled enough to remove the fluid from my chest cavity in her office. At least I didn't have to go to the hospital and have it done. I was also thankful to know I wasn't imagining things. I really was sloshing! If this wasn't the 21st century, I might have had leeches placed all over my chest to suck out the excess drainage. I'm thankful that didn't happen. I have a pretty strong stomach but I don't think I would have done well with a bunch of blood suckers wriggling and thriving all over my middle. Ewww! In any event, I'm glad to have the drainage procedure completed. Hopefully I won't ever have to go through that again. I'm really hoping things will start to get better and better from this point onward. I'm very tired of feeling rotten and look forward to some good days. I think I deserve them. It's time for someone else to share in the suffering just a little.

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

It takes a village

You've heard that saying a million times before, I'm sure, you know...the one that says "it takes a village to raise a child?" That saying is an African Proverb and it is filled with truth. It takes so many people to help raise a child safely into adulthood, not only in Africa, but in America, too. It also takes a little village of loved ones to help a family member get over the hurdle of a major health issue like breast cancer or surgery or some other sort of debilitating issue, and this weekend, I witnessed it as some of my family members rallied around me.

My dependable, doting daughter, Laura, was right beside me as I made my way into the hospital for surgery on Friday. She's always there when I need her. She doesn't complain, doesn't make excuses, doesn't hide behind her fear...she's just there...at the ready...to do whatever it takes, whenever it happens, for as long as is necessary. And that's one reason I love her so. She's got the gift of service and she is wonderful in administration...she's a real take charge kind of person, the kind you need when you're unable to think clearly and make your own wise decisions.

I was thankful for her sweet spirit. As she worked hard to help calm my nerves by making jokes and acting silly to make me laugh and forget what lay ahead of me, she was really good at her job. She also listens well and paid careful attention to the medical team as they were giving her instructions on my aftercare. She heard things I didn't and I knew I didn't have to worry about remembering because she would remember for me. That's my girl. Laura. Dependable. Responsible.

And then there's another in my village, although he couldn't get off work to be with me, he prayed the entire day I was in surgery. As soon as the clock struck 3, he dashed home to be right beside me caring for me and loving on me. My husband. My rock. My gentle giant. He's so good to me and so tender. He's my protector and my guardian. Fluffing pillows and spreading blankets. He knows just what I need and when I need it. He gets to see the tears when everyone else is gone and he loves me through them. He sees the raw, unadulterated pain and allows me to feel it but doesn't allow me to stay in the midst of it so long that it overwhelms me. My husband. My love. I'm so thankful for him.

In my village, there's also my baby girl. The one who's no longer a child, but she's my last born, and will always be my little girl forever. She came to be with me too. She's so much like me it's scary. She's filled with mercy and love but knows how to step back and let others take over when necessary. Just her being here was a great gift. It's so good to know I am so loved. Jamie. My baby. She sees deeply and loves thoroughly.

And my village holds a few who couldn't be with me, but even though they couldn't be here in the flesh, they took time to voice concern. My son, David. He made time to call my daughter, Laura, as we were on our way home from the hospital. He was checking in to see if I was okay. Thoughtful. Diligent. Dave. My one and only son.

Then there's Erin, my oldest girl. She lives so far away but tries so hard to stay involved. She couldn't be here either but oh, she's always here in spirit. She calls many times a day to chat...to check in...to assess the situation. She's good at that. She would make a good spy. She knows what to "look" for and even though she's hundreds of miles away, she does what she can to help. She's a mother and knows how to mother her own mother well. Such a good caretaker. She is a sweet source of support. My oldest girl, Erin.

Without my village, I wouldn't be doing as well as I am today. I don't know how people without families survive. I remember thinking, as we planned my surgery a few weeks ago, it must be hard not having someone to rely on for help during a time of crisis. As the nurse explained I'd need someone to come and stay with me at the hospital, I was thankful to know I had someone. What about the people who didn't have anyone? What about the people who had to have a taxi cab drive them to the hospital for surgery and then they'd have to call again for the cab to pick them up and take them back home. I couldn't imagine. I don't think I could ever do that, but some people do have to make those choices. They don't have a village of people to come and sit with them while they recuperate. They don't have loved ones to stand by and help them and encourage them as they heal. It's so sad and so many of us take having our village for granted. I think that's why God gave us families...so we could have our own little village. Our own little unit of loved ones to be there in time of need...to share the good times and the bad times...to share in the happiness and the joy, but also to share in the sorrow amid the tears.

And for those who don't have families, there are villages of friends. The family members we get to choose are called friends. They come in all shapes,sizes, and colors, with different gifts and personalities. They are blessings of love. Some stay in our lives for long periods of time and others are just passing through but God uses them to minister to us...to help us...to teach us about love. Those villages are priceless. But I'm thankful for my very own village and for never being left alone to struggle through difficult situations and circumstances.

Today's been a rough day. Every move I've made has been painful. I hear a weird "sloshing" noise when I move and I know that's not normal. When the nurse called to check on me today, I mentioned it to her. She sounded concerned and said she needed to discuss this with the doctor. Dr. Sroka, head of my current tribe. She's the chieftan. The one in charge of my medical care and I trust her implicitly. She's very attentive and caring. I'm thankful for her.

I wasn't surprised at all when Michelle, Dr. Sroka's nurse called me back this afternoon. She said the doc was concerned about my sloshing. She wanted me to come into the office to have the fluid drained. If left untreated, she said it could cause a bad infection and since I haven't been given the all clear to drive yet, I had to sound the tribal drums (not really, I just got on my cell phone, but you get the picture!) and let my daughter, Laura, know I'll need a ride again. As I was explaining my situation to her, I began to cry. I didn't mean to the tears just slipped out. I apologized to her for having to call on her once again but she assured me it was okay...that she was available, any time, any place.

After I got off the phone with Laura, I had myself a good little cry. The tears were from pent up emotions but also were tears of thankfulness and joy. My tribe. What would I do without them? And just as I finish up this post, the Chieftan called. She wants to see me in her office tomorrow. I'm not looking forward to having a large, hollow needle inserted into my chest wall to draw off fluid but it's necessary. It's amazing to have so many people watching out for me. It truly does take a village.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Surgery again

Yesterday, I went into Piedmont Fayetteville Hospital to have my second surgery. This time I would be having a cyst removed along with some tissue that had died in the last surgery.

I arrived at the hospital shortly before 11 a.m. as instructed. My sweet daughter, Laura, was with me since my husband was unable to get off work. Around 11:30 a.m. a nurse came out to get me and take me back to the pre-surgical wing. I wasn't nervous at all and I know it was because of all the prayers going up for me.

She gave me a gown and told me to remove all of my clothes and then, she'd be back in to hook me up to an I.V. I was compliant for the most part but I didn't remove my underwear. I thought about it and decided there was no need for me to take off my panties. They weren't even going to be working remotely in that area, so I left them on. (The rebel in my strikes again!)

I got into the bed and waited. About fifteen minutes later, the nurse came back in to insert the I.V. needle. I was thankful she gave me a shot of Lidocaine first to numb the area. I didn't even feel the I.V. shunt go in. When she was done, the nurse told me she'd go get my daughter and bring her back to sit with me. I looked down at the I.V. needle she'd just placed into my hand. It didn't look like it was inserted all the way, but I figured she knew what she was doing.

Laura came back into the room with me and we talked for a while before the Anesthesiologist came in. When she came in, she asked all the routine questions : loose teeth? partials? dentures? trouble swallowing? etc. She explained they'd be inserting a breathing tube along with the anesthesia. I listened to her as she hurriedly explained each detail. She was so high strung that I commented about it to Laura after the doctor left the room. Laura assured me that the anesthesiologist must have many patients today and was just trying to move quickly so she could cover all the bases. More medical staff came in to visit - surgical nurses, a resident anesthesiologist, and Dr. Sroka's assistant. They were all very kind and reassuring.

Just before 2 p.m., Dr. Sroka came in to talk with me. She went over the procedure again and asked if I had any questions. While she was there, the nurse was at the head of my bed doing something. All of a sudden, I felt an intense burning pain in my left arm and looked down to see where it was coming from. My wrist, just about the I.V. needle began to immediately puff up and swell. As I screamed out in pain, Dr. Sroka sternly corrected the nurse and said, "You just blew her vein. What were you doing?" The nurse explained that all she'd done was grab hold of the bag of Prevacid (an antacid liquid) and force it through the I.V. Dr. Sroka told her when she did that, she ruptured my vein and she'd have to remove that I.V. and replace it with another. The nurse was not too happy about that and disagreed with the doc. I was surprised that she was defending her I.V. insertion so vehemently when it was clearly problematic.

Dr. Sroka went out and 2 nurses came in. The original nurse, the one who'd blown my vein, and another R.N. The second R.N. came over to me and said she'd be placing the new I.V. I was thankful! The first nurse might have been vindictive. The second I.V. was placed quickly and efficiently and the surgical team was ready to go. Something was inserted into my I.V. and that's all I remember until I woke up in the recovery room.

In the recovery room, the first thing I heard was an oriental nurse talking to me and telling me it was time to wake up. Her cute accent made me think one of my good friends was in the room with me (she's from China too.) As I forced my eyes to open, I saw a large clock on the wall at the foot of my bed. It was 5:05 p.m. I was surprised it was that late in the day. It seemed I'd only been there a short time. The nurse offered me some Sprite and it felt so good on my throat.

Laura came to help me get my clothes back on and I didn't realize how much pain I was in until I sat up on the bed. I felt like I'd been run over by a truck. My chest was on fire and I could feel something very tight around my chest area. I looked down and saw they'd placed a type of surgical corset on me to hold the incision tightly. I was told I'd have to wear that for the next week until Dr. Sroka had her followup visit with me.

We began the long ride home and I was so groggy. I could hardly keep my eyes open. Laura told me that it was from the leftover anesthesia in my body. Instead of going straight home, we stopped by the drugstore first to get my pain medication. I was so thankful Laura thought to do that because I needed it as soon as I got out of the car. I was also thankful they'd put a Scopalamine patch on me to keep nausea at bay during and after surgery because I began to feel a little woozy as I walked into the house.

I tried my best to stay awake long enough to have a small cup of chicken broth and some saltines. I knew I would need something on my stomach before taking my pain meds. Bedtime couldn't come soon enough for me. I was so thankful to have purchased a wedge pillow before my first surgery last year. It surely came in handy. After getting all my pillows propped up and the wedge pillow in place, I slipped into bed and slept soundly all night long.

This morning, I woke up at 6:05 a.m. I felt pretty good until I got out of bed to go to the restroom. As soon as I stood up, the pain shot through my chest and I remembered, I'd just surgery! Very slowly I walked across the room and got my pain pills. Everyone else in the house was asleep. I tiptoed into the living room to have my quiet time. As I lit a candle and pulled out my Bible, I said a prayer of thanks. I was still alive. Cancer hasn't won yet. I was overwhelmed with gratitude.

Sometime this week, I'll get the biopsy reports. I'm trusting God that everything will turn out just fine. My life is in His hands and there's no place I'd rather be.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Learning to live in the moment

"How did it get so late so soon? Its night before its afternoon. December is here before its June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon? ~Dr. Seuss

Dr. Seuss was a wise man and a wonderful children's author, but also a man filled with humorous thoughts and anecdotes. I love this quote by him on time and speaking of time, that brings me to the subject of today's post.

I used to wear a watch. I even slept in it. I was always looking at it and making sure I knew the exact time. I let my watch govern my life. I was always punctual. I was never, ever late. I never realized how much I depended on my watch until I was hospitalized for breast cancer surgery.

When you have surgery, you aren't allowed to wear any jewelry and that includes watches. You aren't supposed to wear makeup, deodorant, or perfume. You don't even get to wear your own clothes! You have to don the very ugly hospital gown with the opening in the back. Sometimes, if you're lucky,you get to keep your underwear but 9 times out of 10, they take those too.

Something happened to me after I had my surgery. When I woke up in the recovery room, I was so thankful to be alive and have a second chance at life. I decided from that moment on, I would not ever focus on time again. I determined that I was going to take each moment as it came and treasure it as a wonderful gift.

My watches are safely tucked away in my jewelry box. They tick so quietly I don't even hear them even though I know they're there. I feel so free without my watch to constantly remind me of obligations and expectations.

When did we become a society that is so time conscious? It seems everything in our lives revolves around the clock. I'm so thankful I can have the freedom not to be a clock watcher. It's amazing how time constraints vanish when there's no watch to catch your eye.

Since I've stopped wearing my watch, I know it's time to get up when I wake up and I know it's time to eat when I get hungry. I know it's time to sleep when I get tired. My internal clock doesn't tick out the time but gives me a soft, gentle nudge when I need to take care of my body.

When I'm visiting with friends, I'm not constantly glancing at my watch thinking I need to hurry on to my next appointment. I can focus on just being in the moment and those moments stretch on as long as possible. I love it and the days seem so much longer now!

If you find yourself relying on your watch or your clock to tell you when and where to come or go, try going a few days without it. It may take you some time to disassociate yourself from the constraints of time, especially if you're still a vital part of the workforce. (I'm retired, so I don't have to worry about the 9 to 5 any more.)

Time. We've all been given the same 24 hours in a day.  The same 1440 minutes. The same 86,4000 seconds. How will you use your time? Will you constantly check your watch or the clock? Will you follow a regimented schedule or will you break free from the bands of time? Learn to live in the moment. It will change your life. I know it's changed mine for the better.

Some beautiful thoughts on time:

"Time and tide wait for no man." ~ Geoffrey Chaucer

"Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind." ~Nathaniel Hawthorne

"Know the true value of time; snatch, seize, and enjoy every moment of it. No idleness, no laziness, no procrastination: never put off till tomorrow what you can do today." ~ Philip Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

One more thing to complain about - Fibromyalgia

Forgive me for whining today but isn't that normal people do when they aren't feeling well? We don't usually go around commenting on how good we're feeling, but we sure do make sure to let others know if we aren't feeling well. Humans have a bent toward complaining. And when complaints are legitimate, they're easier to tolerate, right? Especially when the complaints are your own and not those of someone else...well, today, I hope you'll bear with me and let me whine just a little because I really am struggling and am in pain.

Aches and pains seem to be the norm as your body gets older but constant, daily pain shouldn't be normal. And, I don't really think they are normal. I've never dealt with constant pain like this before. I didn't wake up hurting before I had breast cancer, but now I do.

I've researched the symptoms and am almost certain I know the cause of my aches and pains - Fibromyalgia. Fibromyalgia is a chronic health problem that causes pain all over the body and other symptoms. Some of the other symptoms include:

• Tenderness to touch or pressure affecting muscles and sometimes joints or even the skin
• Severe fatigue
• Sleep problems (waking up unrefreshed)
• Problems with memory or thinking clearly
• And sometimes, these symptoms occur:
• Depression or anxiety
• Migraine or tension headaches
• Digestive problems: irritable bowel syndrome (commonly called IBS) or gastroesophageal reflux disease (often referred to as GERD)
• Irritable or overactive bladder
• Pelvic pain
• Temporomandibular disorder—often called TMJ (a set of symptoms including face or jaw pain, jaw clicking and ringing in the ears)

The symptoms can come and go and often times be worse than others. Stress seems to aggravate and worsen the symptoms.

So, what causes Fibromyalgia? The causes of Fibromyalgia are unclear. They may be different in different people. Fibromyalgia may run in families. There likely are certain genes that can make people more prone to getting Fibromyalgia and the other health problems that can occur with it. Genes alone, though, do not cause Fibromyalgia.

There is most often some triggering factor that sets off Fibromyalgia. It may be spine problems, arthritis, injury, or other type of physical stress. Emotional stress also may trigger this illness. The result is a change in the way the body “talks” with the spinal cord and brain. Levels of brain chemicals and proteins may change. For the person with Fibromyalgia, it is as though the “volume control” is turned up too high in the brain's pain processing centers.

There have been studies done on the link between Fibromyalgia and Breast Cancer. The most recent recorded in the International Journal of Clinical Oncology, Volume 18, Issue 2 (pages 285-292) which evaluated 150 women patients with breast cancer. During the clinical study, these women were in various stages of breast cancer. Some had just begun treatment and some had completed treatment (chemotherapy, radiation, a combination of the two and adjuvant therapies such as Tamoxifen or one of several Aromatase Inhibitors.) Of those women, 47.6% of the evaluated women suffered from Fibromyalgia pain. The study indicated that upper body trauma could have contributed to the Fibromyalgia pain but there has not been a conclusive link.  The study did find that the frequency of Fibromyalgia in patients who received breast cancer treatment was higher than the previously reported frequency of Fibromyalgia for the general population, and Fibromyalgia affects patients’ quality of life negatively. 

How is fibromyalgia diagnosed? A doctor will suspect Fibromyalgia based on your symptoms. Doctors may require that you have tenderness to pressure or tender points at a specific number of certain spots before saying you have Fibromyalgia, but they are not required to make the diagnosis. A physical exam can be helpful to detect tenderness and to exclude other causes of muscle pain. There are no diagnostic tests (such as X-rays or blood tests) for this problem. Yet, you may need tests to rule out another health problem that can be confused with Fibromyalgia.

Because widespread body pain is the main feature of Fibromyalgia, health care providers will ask you to describe your pain. This may help tell the difference between Fibromyalgia and other diseases with similar symptoms. Other conditions such as hypothyroidism (underactive thyroid gland) and polymyalgia rheumatica sometimes mimic Fibromyalgia. Blood tests can tell if you have either of these problems. Sometimes, Fibromyalgia is confused with rheumatoid arthritis or lupus. But, again, there is a difference in the symptoms, physical findings and blood tests that will help your health care provider detect these health problems. Unlike Fibromyalgia, these rheumatic diseases cause inflammation in the joints and tissues.

How is Fibromyalgia treated? There is no cure for Fibromyalgia. However, symptoms can be treated with both medication and non-drug treatments. Many times the best outcomes are achieved by using multiple types of treatments. The FDA has approved three drugs for the treatment of Fibromyalgia. They include two drugs that change some of the brain chemicals (serotonin and norepinephrine) that help control pain levels: duloxetine (Cymbalta) and milnacipran (Savella). 

For the past few weeks, I've found myself taking more and more NSAIDS (non steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs like Advil or Aleve) to help with the pain. I've also had to take something to help me sleep, like Melatonin and Diphenhydramine. On my next visit to the oncologist, in October, I'll be talking with him about a solution to this problem. I'm hoping he'll have good advice to help me. My quality of life has been greatly affected by this constant, generalized pain. No one wants to feel like they have the flu all the time and that's exactly the way I feel. 

Thank you for bearing with me through this gripe session. In my effort to open and honest and real about breast cancer and the aftermath of it, I have to share the good, the bad, and the ugly. Doctors don't talk about all the things that can happen before, during, or after treatment. It's up to the patient to do his/her homework and be prepared. 

What I'm thinking: 

I really, really wish I didn't have to deal with one more side effect of cancer. It's getting to be so frustrating to always feel crappy. I hate to always be complaining about not feeling well. I'm thankful for my family members who love me anyway, despite my whining. It would be so nice to feel normal again. Some days I wish I could turn back the hands of time to a period of time long before cancer entered my life, but I know that's not possible. I hate the term "new normal" and how everyone tells me I have to learn to live within the boundaries of it. Day by day I am reminded that cancer sucks. I'm doing my best to work through the pain and learn to live with it. I don't want to have to take any more medications but something has to give. I'm so tired of hurting all the time and I long for a good night's sleep. How wonderful it would be to be able to wake up in the morning feeling well rested and healthy. I sure hope Dr. F can help. 

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

I had a dream

Martin Luther King, Jr. made the statement "I have a dream," when he made his famous speech for the civil rights movement. He had a great dream. I had a dream, too, but my dream did not embody greatness. It did, however, shake me to my core.

It's amazing to me how real dreams can sometimes seem. Last night I had a really bad dream and when I woke up, I was in tears. I know my dream stemmed from something hidden deep in my subconscious but it took me a few days to get over.

I was on a long train and I was traveling to an unknown destination. I remember being somewhere on the back of the train, walking slowly up the aisle in a dim light. As I walked up the aisle, I was leaning over looking at the passengers in each set of seats. I was searching desperately for something or someone.

As I continued passing each set of seats, I finally neared the front of the train. Just to my right, as I peered over the tops of the seats, I see my sweet husband's face and directly next to him is a pretty woman with short, cropped blonde hair.

I remember speaking something to my husband and before he had a chance to reply, the blonde piped up and said, "he doesn't love you any more. He's with me now. He wanted a real woman, a woman with breasts." I cringed, in my dream, and looked quizzically at my husband as the woman beside him jutted out her ample bosom. I watched as she sidled up to him and snuggled into his shoulder. The devastation I felt was so overwhelming. He'd told me he'd love me forever, in sickness and in health, til death do us part and now, he was no longer mine...I tossed and turned in my sleep. I'm sure I moaned and groaned as I faced the gamut of emotions during this terrible, heart wrenching dream.

When I woke up, I was feeling a deep despair. I reached over to my husband's side of the bed. He was fast asleep. I sat up with tears streaming down my face. I knew this had only been a dream but it was so very real.

Within a few minutes, Phil woke up. He must have felt me stirring. He raised up on one arm and looked at me. He knew immediately that something was wrong. As he asked me what was the matter, I started to bawl. He reached over to take me in his arms and asked me to explain what was bothering me. I told him about the dream and when I'd finished, he squeezed me tight and said, "you know I'd never do anything like that. I love you. I always have and always will. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be with you forever." His words gave me such comfort and after a while, I was able to relax and let go of the feelings of inadequacy and fear.

Dreams are mysteries to me. How can they feel so real and how can I dream in color? I even knew the woman's name in my dream. Her name was Cody! The brain is an amazing machine that can conjure up all kinds of thoughts, images, and emotions.

When I was in high school, studying psychology, I remember doing a unit on dreams. We studied about the significance of various types of dreams and what the represented. Dreaming of falling represented a fear of losing control over a particular situation in one's life. Train dreams, like mine, indicated going somewhere unknown and having no control over the destination. That much of my dream was true! I have definitely felt I was traveling to an unknown destination since boarding the breast cancer train.

I guess my mind just had a field day with a combination of fears, conversations and events in my life and compiled them all into this crazy, outrageous dream. After I was able to get past the pain of the emotional turmoil I felt, I was able to dismantle the dream piece by piece.

The train ride represented my breast cancer journey. The searching out passengers was an attempt to find my husband for security. He's always by my side and helps me get through difficult challenges. The voluptuous blonde woman represented everything I'm not and her statement "he's with me now" was Satan's effort to tell me I'm no longer considered a woman now that I have no breasts. The feelings of hurt, disappointment, abandonment, and fear were all real feelings I've faced through this journey but once again, Satan twisted those to make my dream into one of a false reality.

I'm so thankful I was able to wake up from that wicked illusion realizing it was only a dream. I'm glad I know that my husband loves me with or without breasts and he's promised to be with me forever...and I believe him with all my heart. He truly loves me and would never do anything to hurt me. I am so blessed to have him in my life.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

What a workout!

I was so excited as I pulled into the driveway and saw the huge box against my front door. My rebounder finally came. I could barely wait to get out of the car and open the front door! It is August, not December, but it felt like Christmas to me.

With a good amount of effort, I drug the box inside the house. It was more cumbersome than heavy. As I unboxed the rebounder, I was amazed at how quickly it went together. All I had to do was screw on the 6 stabilizing legs and put on some end caps. Voila'! My rebounder was ready.

I flipped it over and stood looking at it for a few minutes. It looked really nice. I'd gotten to choose the color of the bungees and the top. I chose hot pink, very significant of my breast cancer journey, don't you think? As I looked over the rebounder, I wondered if it would hold my weight. It looked sturdy enough even though I wasn't a little kid anymore and I was significantly heavier than I had been way back then!

I slipped the instructional DVD into my computer and pressed play. Timidly, I stepped up onto the rebounder watching the bungee cords as they gave way just a bit. So far, so good. I marched in place and got used to the way it felt to be on the top of the rebounder. I'd never been on one before and this was very new to me. I was surprised at how I struggled to keep my balance. I'm sure it will get better with time. I wished I'd bought the stabilizing bars that were optional, but hindsight is 20/20. Maybe I'll order then later.

The lady on the exercise video began to move on her rebounder. She was so thin and energetic! (Naturally, why would they choose an overweight instructor?!) I watched and mirrored her actions. She started out slowly and then increased the intensity. As I was working out with her, I thought this was going to be a pretty easy way to exercise. First we were just marching in place and then we progressed to jumping jacks.

Getting up a little courage, I began to bounce along with her. This was supposed to be an exercise that would help my lymphatic system. I sure hoped it worked. It was starting to be fun! I bounced a little higher and a little higher copying her movements. The higher I got, the more out of control I felt. I needed to slow it down a little. I realized as I was beginning to slow myself down, the light fixture in my office was right over my head and if I'd kept on bouncing higher and higher, I would have probably knocked myself out on the light. I got a mental image of myself trying to explain to the doctor how I got a brass finial embedded in my head! Heavens!

I'd worked up a sweat and as I was wiping my forehead, the instructor finished up the workout session. I stood on the floor and watched her. I glanced from the computer screen to the written instructions I'd received and noticed a warning. The warning said to keep exercise sessions between 2 and 5 minutes a day for the first week. I'd already worked out about 15 minutes. It also said the day after you began rebounding, you'd notice sore muscles in areas that had not been worked for some time. That tells me that tomorrow, I'm going to feel the burn. I have a lot of muscles that haven't been worked out in a really long time.

I'm so glad I was the only one home today when I began rebounding. I bet I looked really funny. I had on a black and white striped exercise top, black leggings, and some fuzzy pink polkadot slipper socks on to keep me from falling. Can you imagine me bouncing up and down hair flying all over the place while stifling unbridled laughter?

After a few days, I'm sure I'll get the hang of it. I'm excited to know it's low impact. My poor old knees are thankful too. Fifty seven years old and jumping on a mini  trampoline...who wouldn't thunk it?

©bonnie annis all rights reserved