"Her body is shutting down, the doctors said." I could hardly believe it as my daughter softly spoke those words into the phone. We'd been expecting it, but the words weren't easy to hear. As they sunk in to my heart, everything inside me wanted to cry out....NOOOOOOOO! NOT ANOTHER ONE. How many more young mothers would cancer steal from their families? And then I thought about myself. I was old. My children were grown and yet, the sting didn't hurt any less. Cancer's inevitable reality was getting too close for comfort. It was sneaking up on me. I was just 16 months into my survivorship.
For months, my oldest daughter has been loving on and ministering to this young mother and her family. (I won't share her name to protect her privacy.) There have been good days and bad days. On the good days, there's been laughter and joy. On the bad days, there's been silence and suffering. It's been a challenging time. A time for friends to rally and show their love. Hard lessons have been learned and grace has been extended. It's been a community effort. It really does take a village...
Although everyone knew this day would come, no one expected it to come so suddenly, but God works in mysterious ways. His timing is not our timing. He had planned and orchestrated every event to work into His plan perfectly. Who are we to question?
The family has gathered at their loved one's bedside. What do you say at a time like this? How do you comfort them? What can you do? Words seem so meaningless and why waste energy saying things that will never be remembered? Isn't love more important? Just being there...that's what really matters. Love...just love.
My heart is broken knowing this young mother will soon slip out of this world into eternity, but I am so thankful she knows the Lord as her Savior. She's struggled so much and fought a good fight. At least when she gets to glory, she won't have any more pain and her body will be completely healed. It seems almost trite to say that, but it's the truth.
I am grieved for her mother. How do you sit beside the bed of the precious one you carried inside your body for 9 months...your beloved child, and watch silently as her organs begin to shut down? How do you stay there and watch those labored breaths? Oh the pain and agony that mother must feel as her daughter slowly wastes away. I can't begin to imagine...
And her husband...how does he say goodbye to the love of his life? He's been beside her through all the cancer treatments, the medical tests, the hair loss, the sickness and fatigue. Does he find comfort in knowing it's almost over or does he beg for more time with her?
Then there are the little ones...the four babes who'll lose their Mommy. How will life look for them in the future? Will they remember her when they're older? So many questions, so little time...and we don't have the answers, but there is One who does. And He's the One who holds our lives in the palm of His hand...Jesus.
Life is so short. We're only here for a few brief moments and then we're gone. May every moment of every day you have left on this earth be one you hold precious. Never take any of them for granted because in a twinkling...in the blink of an eye...they'll be gone.
“That though the hard might come and our hearts be broken, that brokenness isn’t bad. The tears are evidence of our love for one another. They did not stop that day, and they will not stop in the days to come. But tears are a gift, not something to withhold or bottle up—they are the essence of the best of life.” ~ Kara Tippetts from her book, The Hardest Peace
.© bonnie annis all rights reserved
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
Monday, November 9, 2015
Let your roots grow down deep
The mail had come and as I do every day, I walked down my steep driveway to retrieve it. As I was walking, I was praying I didn't slip and fall. It was drizzling rain and had been raining off and on all night. The driveway was covered in wet leaves and pinestraw, all of which were very slick and slimy. Last week, while going to get the mail, I slid on a wet leaf and did an amazing balancing act. Thankfully, I didn't fall on my bottom and hurt myself.
As I made my way down the drive, I heard some popping noises. At first, I thought someone was shooting a gun in my direction. (We live in a rural area and there are lots of hunters close by. In fact, we've numbed ourselves to the sounds of daily gunshots this time of year.) I turned my head in the direction of the sound and froze on the driveway. All of a sudden, the popping increased and then loud crashing sounds began as a large tree broke in half and fell. I was thankful the tree hadn't been closer to where I was standing. One minute the tree was standing and the next it was down on the ground. I guess all the heavy rain had caused it to give way.
Making my way back up the driveway, I noticed all the beautiful trees in my yard. There were oaks, pines, and maples. They were various sizes, some were over 100 feet tall and some only tiny saplings. Their leaves still clinging to the branches in a last ditch effort to evade the inevitable. I continued walking and couldn't help thinking more about the tree that fell. I wondered if it was diseased or if perhaps it had been infested with some kind of insects that had helped to weaken it. I came inside the house and pulled out my binoculars. As I zoomed in on the tree, I could see it was a large pine tree and it had broken midway down. Pine trees are notorious for having shallow roots but part of the trunk was still standing and that meant the roots had held.
A verse of Scripture immediately came to mind, "Let your roots grow down into Him, and let your lives be built on Him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness." Colossians 2:7. What a powerful verse!
Suddenly, I remembered a segment from Earth Science class. My high school teacher was talking about the root system of trees and he was explaining about the tap root. I thought it was very interesting. The tap root is the root that travels down the deepest and it seeks out water for the tree. It's a very important root. Smaller roots develop and branch off of the tap root but to kill the tree, the tap root has to be severed.
The more I thought about that verse, the more of a visual picture I got in my mind. I could see my roots growing down deep into Christ drawing sustenance up from Him. As long as my taproot was dipping into His goodness, my faith was growing and being strengthened. I could stand firm just like a good, healthy tree.
I lay my binoculars down on the desk. My neighbors were going to be surprised to find that big, broken tree lying in their yard when they came home from work later today. I'm sure they won't be too happy about having to hire someone to haul it off but I'm sure they'll be thankful it didn't damage their home.
It always amazes me how God uses little things like that tree breaking as I was walking down to the mailbox to speak to my heart. If we're attentive, He's always speaking. We just have to put ourselves in the mindset to always be listening for what He's saying to us.
© bonnie annis all rights reserved
As I made my way down the drive, I heard some popping noises. At first, I thought someone was shooting a gun in my direction. (We live in a rural area and there are lots of hunters close by. In fact, we've numbed ourselves to the sounds of daily gunshots this time of year.) I turned my head in the direction of the sound and froze on the driveway. All of a sudden, the popping increased and then loud crashing sounds began as a large tree broke in half and fell. I was thankful the tree hadn't been closer to where I was standing. One minute the tree was standing and the next it was down on the ground. I guess all the heavy rain had caused it to give way.
Making my way back up the driveway, I noticed all the beautiful trees in my yard. There were oaks, pines, and maples. They were various sizes, some were over 100 feet tall and some only tiny saplings. Their leaves still clinging to the branches in a last ditch effort to evade the inevitable. I continued walking and couldn't help thinking more about the tree that fell. I wondered if it was diseased or if perhaps it had been infested with some kind of insects that had helped to weaken it. I came inside the house and pulled out my binoculars. As I zoomed in on the tree, I could see it was a large pine tree and it had broken midway down. Pine trees are notorious for having shallow roots but part of the trunk was still standing and that meant the roots had held.
A verse of Scripture immediately came to mind, "Let your roots grow down into Him, and let your lives be built on Him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness." Colossians 2:7. What a powerful verse!
Suddenly, I remembered a segment from Earth Science class. My high school teacher was talking about the root system of trees and he was explaining about the tap root. I thought it was very interesting. The tap root is the root that travels down the deepest and it seeks out water for the tree. It's a very important root. Smaller roots develop and branch off of the tap root but to kill the tree, the tap root has to be severed.
The more I thought about that verse, the more of a visual picture I got in my mind. I could see my roots growing down deep into Christ drawing sustenance up from Him. As long as my taproot was dipping into His goodness, my faith was growing and being strengthened. I could stand firm just like a good, healthy tree.
I lay my binoculars down on the desk. My neighbors were going to be surprised to find that big, broken tree lying in their yard when they came home from work later today. I'm sure they won't be too happy about having to hire someone to haul it off but I'm sure they'll be thankful it didn't damage their home.
It always amazes me how God uses little things like that tree breaking as I was walking down to the mailbox to speak to my heart. If we're attentive, He's always speaking. We just have to put ourselves in the mindset to always be listening for what He's saying to us.
© bonnie annis all rights reserved
Saturday, November 7, 2015
Time to start living again
Every day I hear of another...sister, mother, wife, friend who's been diagnosed with breast cancer or one who's at the point of death. Will the number of breast cancer cases ever end? Will they ever find a cure? Will they ever find the cause? It's so frustrating because it seems it's more prevalent now than it ever has been before. And hearing of these new cases or these at the point of death continually reminds me that the fear of recurrence is lurking in the shadows. No matter how hard I try to keep those thoughts at bay, they're there...whispering to my subconscious mind.
Daily, I do battle. When I get up in the morning, I thank God that I was able to open my eyes and I thank Him for one more day...just one more day. I don't take my days for granted any longer, but oh boy...I surely used to. I never gave a thought to waking up, I just always assumed I would...but that was before cancer.
One of my daughters spoke some truth into my life yesterday. She told me it was time to start living again. Those words pounded hard into my heart. Time. to. start. living. again. They made me realize...when did I give up? When did I stop living? The more I thought about it, the more I realized I accepted the death sentence that was handed to me over a year ago. That fateful day in June, when I heard those three dreaded words over the phone - YOU HAVE CANCER....YOU. It was not someone else, it was me. I was the one who had cancer. ME. And that day, a little piece of my heart died.
I continued to let her words sink into my spirit. It's time to start living again. But how do I let go of the fear that continues to haunt me, to comfort me? Gosh, I can't believe I even said that...comfort me??? In some wickedly strange way, knowing I have, NO HAD, cancer has given me a reason to not do many of the things I used to do in the past. Was I using it as an excuse to not do things I used to enjoy? This was going to take some time to pour over. Surely, I wasn't doing this...NOT ME, NOT POLLYANA BONNIE...THE ONE WHO ALWAYS LOOKS AT THINGS WITH ROSE COLORED GLASSES... oh, but I was...
My social life has been non-existent since cancer. I've become AGORAPHOBIC. I've had a horrible fear of being out in public, away from the safety of my home...the familiar things, the comfortable things. It's been so much easier to stay holed up in my house like a modern day hermit. I haven't needed anyone but ME, MYSELF, AND I. I've found security in my routines...my daily routines and when those routines are disrupted, I find myself feeling scattered and fearful. Why am I letting CANCER have this power over me???
5 YEARS. 5.YEARS. The standard life expectancy given to patients by oncologists when they're diagnosed with breast cancer. I'm 19 months into my 5 year period. I didn't even realize how that number has stuck in my mind...like a jail sentence. You have 5 years. 5. 5 years on death row...But it's time to start living again.
You know what they say...out of the mouth of babes. The daughter who spoke this truth into my life is my oldest daughter, Erin. She's a godly woman. I'm so proud of her. She's been such a wonderful source of support and encouragement to me since I was diagnosed. Daily, she calls to check up on me. She isn't afraid to speak truth to me even when I don't want to hear it and I'm thankful for that.
I've been thinking a lot about the words she shared with me...it's time to start living again. But where do I begin? How do I bring myself to the point of being able to step out and be brave? It's so hard to admit that I'm struggling. I don't want people to know that about me. It makes me vulnerable but see, that's another part of cancer. It demeans. It decimates. It destroys. It's the gift that keeps on giving.
I know I need to rise above. I know I need to walk in faith. I have a little sign in my office that reminds me I'm braver than I believe, stronger than I seem, and smarter than I think. It's a quote from Christopher Robin to Winnie the Pooh. It's so easy for people to give you those pat answers but this is something I've got to figure out myself. Don't judge me. You're probably thinking, just do it, but that's easier said than done. No one can truly understand the physical, emotional and spiritual effects cancer has on a person. Each one of us have to make our own way through it. Some people find that cancer support groups help, but I have to fight my own demons. I have to work my way through it and I know I will.
Yes, it's time to start living again and yes, I'm working on it. All I can do it take one day at a time and make little baby steps of progress. Realizing the words she spoke to me were true is the first of many steps to come. I don't want to stay in the land of the dead, the cursed, the sentenced to die. I want to rejoin the land of the living.
Another of my daughters watches a TV show called the "Walking Dead." It's a show about the Apocalypse and Zombies. I watched it with her once but wasn't impressed. You can only take so much of those gory looking creatures with skin hanging off their bones. How appropriate the title is for the show, the "Walking Dead." I don't want to be one of them and in order to keep from staying there, I have to figure out a way to climb out of this pit I'm in...It's time to start living again...
Next month I go see a new oncologist. I'm going to be open and honest with him. I'm going to admit I have a problem. I'm going to talk to him about my depression and agoraphobia. I'm going to ask him for help and hope he'll set me on the right track and help me find my way to the land of the living once again.
© bonnie annis all rights reserved
Daily, I do battle. When I get up in the morning, I thank God that I was able to open my eyes and I thank Him for one more day...just one more day. I don't take my days for granted any longer, but oh boy...I surely used to. I never gave a thought to waking up, I just always assumed I would...but that was before cancer.
One of my daughters spoke some truth into my life yesterday. She told me it was time to start living again. Those words pounded hard into my heart. Time. to. start. living. again. They made me realize...when did I give up? When did I stop living? The more I thought about it, the more I realized I accepted the death sentence that was handed to me over a year ago. That fateful day in June, when I heard those three dreaded words over the phone - YOU HAVE CANCER....YOU. It was not someone else, it was me. I was the one who had cancer. ME. And that day, a little piece of my heart died.
I continued to let her words sink into my spirit. It's time to start living again. But how do I let go of the fear that continues to haunt me, to comfort me? Gosh, I can't believe I even said that...comfort me??? In some wickedly strange way, knowing I have, NO HAD, cancer has given me a reason to not do many of the things I used to do in the past. Was I using it as an excuse to not do things I used to enjoy? This was going to take some time to pour over. Surely, I wasn't doing this...NOT ME, NOT POLLYANA BONNIE...THE ONE WHO ALWAYS LOOKS AT THINGS WITH ROSE COLORED GLASSES... oh, but I was...
My social life has been non-existent since cancer. I've become AGORAPHOBIC. I've had a horrible fear of being out in public, away from the safety of my home...the familiar things, the comfortable things. It's been so much easier to stay holed up in my house like a modern day hermit. I haven't needed anyone but ME, MYSELF, AND I. I've found security in my routines...my daily routines and when those routines are disrupted, I find myself feeling scattered and fearful. Why am I letting CANCER have this power over me???
5 YEARS. 5.YEARS. The standard life expectancy given to patients by oncologists when they're diagnosed with breast cancer. I'm 19 months into my 5 year period. I didn't even realize how that number has stuck in my mind...like a jail sentence. You have 5 years. 5. 5 years on death row...But it's time to start living again.
You know what they say...out of the mouth of babes. The daughter who spoke this truth into my life is my oldest daughter, Erin. She's a godly woman. I'm so proud of her. She's been such a wonderful source of support and encouragement to me since I was diagnosed. Daily, she calls to check up on me. She isn't afraid to speak truth to me even when I don't want to hear it and I'm thankful for that.
I've been thinking a lot about the words she shared with me...it's time to start living again. But where do I begin? How do I bring myself to the point of being able to step out and be brave? It's so hard to admit that I'm struggling. I don't want people to know that about me. It makes me vulnerable but see, that's another part of cancer. It demeans. It decimates. It destroys. It's the gift that keeps on giving.
I know I need to rise above. I know I need to walk in faith. I have a little sign in my office that reminds me I'm braver than I believe, stronger than I seem, and smarter than I think. It's a quote from Christopher Robin to Winnie the Pooh. It's so easy for people to give you those pat answers but this is something I've got to figure out myself. Don't judge me. You're probably thinking, just do it, but that's easier said than done. No one can truly understand the physical, emotional and spiritual effects cancer has on a person. Each one of us have to make our own way through it. Some people find that cancer support groups help, but I have to fight my own demons. I have to work my way through it and I know I will.
Yes, it's time to start living again and yes, I'm working on it. All I can do it take one day at a time and make little baby steps of progress. Realizing the words she spoke to me were true is the first of many steps to come. I don't want to stay in the land of the dead, the cursed, the sentenced to die. I want to rejoin the land of the living.Another of my daughters watches a TV show called the "Walking Dead." It's a show about the Apocalypse and Zombies. I watched it with her once but wasn't impressed. You can only take so much of those gory looking creatures with skin hanging off their bones. How appropriate the title is for the show, the "Walking Dead." I don't want to be one of them and in order to keep from staying there, I have to figure out a way to climb out of this pit I'm in...It's time to start living again...
Next month I go see a new oncologist. I'm going to be open and honest with him. I'm going to admit I have a problem. I'm going to talk to him about my depression and agoraphobia. I'm going to ask him for help and hope he'll set me on the right track and help me find my way to the land of the living once again.
© bonnie annis all rights reserved
Thursday, November 5, 2015
You never know
A text message came in from my daughter, one of many I receive every day, but this one was different. This one was filled with emotion, even though it was impossible for me to hear her voice through her message, as I read it, I could almost see her face...hear her trembling words, see those trickling tears. "One of our guys went on a test ride and got in an accident," she said, "He was killed." I sat there as I read her message. I read it over and over again wondering who this person was and what had led to such tragic events.
Later in the day, she called and gave me more information. I could her the disbelief as she said, "Mom, he was so young, in his twenties, with a 3 year old little girl and a wife." I tried not to interrupt. I knew she needed to let the words flow to allow healing to begin. When she finished, I commented that none of us ever know when our last day on Earth will be. I told her I was so very sorry.
I couldn't help but wonder about this young man and his family. Did his wife get to tell him goodbye that morning as he went off to work? Did she tell him she loved him? Did he promise to see her later that day for dinner? I wondered if, as he walked out the workplace door to perform the test ride on that company motorcycle, what his thoughts were...was his thinking about how much fun he was going to have as the wind whipped through his hair? Was he thinking about how much time was left in the day until he could get home to his family?
Just shortly after he'd left the store, this young man had met his fate. It seems a bus pulled out in front of him and he was unable to stop. The collision took his life. He'd never see his young wife again. He'd never get to see his little daughter grow up. A split second. That's all it took for lives to be changed forever.
Imagine the hushed whispers that traveled through the workplace after they learned the news...the tears, the gasps of horror. No one could have known their day would be turned upside down like that and yet, that's the reality of life. We live and move and have our being according to the number of minutes God grants us. None of us know when our time will be up...when He'll call us home.
I couldn't help but wonder about the man's salvation. I asked my daughter if the young man was saved and she said she didn't know. We talked about how important it is to share our faith with the people we come in contact with on a daily basis. I think she understood in a much deeper way after this fatal accident.
Oh how my heart grieves for this one who was killed and not only for him, but for those loved ones he left behind. How will they cope? My prayer is that they'll have friends and family to come along beside them and help them walk through this hard...that they'll find comfort in the prayers and love of others, but most of all...that they'll find Jesus. And that He'll supply His perfect peace to cover over the difficult questions that need answers.
May we never take a day for granted. May we remember to tell those we love how much we care. May we realize that life is short and you never know when God's going to call you home. It could be in the next few minutes...are you ready?
© bonnie annis all rights reserved
Just shortly after he'd left the store, this young man had met his fate. It seems a bus pulled out in front of him and he was unable to stop. The collision took his life. He'd never see his young wife again. He'd never get to see his little daughter grow up. A split second. That's all it took for lives to be changed forever.
Imagine the hushed whispers that traveled through the workplace after they learned the news...the tears, the gasps of horror. No one could have known their day would be turned upside down like that and yet, that's the reality of life. We live and move and have our being according to the number of minutes God grants us. None of us know when our time will be up...when He'll call us home.
I couldn't help but wonder about the man's salvation. I asked my daughter if the young man was saved and she said she didn't know. We talked about how important it is to share our faith with the people we come in contact with on a daily basis. I think she understood in a much deeper way after this fatal accident.
Oh how my heart grieves for this one who was killed and not only for him, but for those loved ones he left behind. How will they cope? My prayer is that they'll have friends and family to come along beside them and help them walk through this hard...that they'll find comfort in the prayers and love of others, but most of all...that they'll find Jesus. And that He'll supply His perfect peace to cover over the difficult questions that need answers.
May we never take a day for granted. May we remember to tell those we love how much we care. May we realize that life is short and you never know when God's going to call you home. It could be in the next few minutes...are you ready?
© bonnie annis all rights reserved
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
Out...of...breath...
Rebounding is supposed to be a great exercise for breast cancer survivors, especially since it helps stimulate the lymphatic system. That's one reason I bought my rebounder in the first place...I suffer from Lymphedema. Lymphedema occurs when the normal lymphatic flow is disrupted and lymphatic fluid accumulates in the body. It's uncomfortable and, at times, can be quite painful. So, to help my body reabsorb the lymphatic fluid that collects in my upper arms, I jump. My rebounder is not only fun, it's a medical necessity.
If you've never jumped on a rebounder, it's quite an experience, even my youngest granddaughter, Heather, loves it! Let me tell you about it. My rebounder is not the typical rebounder. Mine has bungee cords holding the rebounding trampoline on to the frame. Most rebounders have metal springs. I chose the kind with the bungee cords because it was quieter and provided a safer jump experience. Maintenance is low and the bungee cords don't have to be replaced but every 3 years.
In preparation for rebounding, comfortable clothes is a must. You're going to be jumping and bouncing and you don't want to be wearing anything restrictive. I usually wear a tshirt and sweats. You can jump barefoot, in sock feet, or in tennis shoes. I usually jump barefoot or in tennis shoes. I've found that socks are too slippery and slippery socks and an uncoordinated jumper don't make for a good mix! Shoes help people with weak ankles and provide more stability. When you've decided how you want to jump (barefoot, socks, or with shoes) it's time to climb up onto the trampoline. The rebounder is only about 14 inches off the ground but even that height can prove you unstable if you don't have good balance.
The best way to get going is just to start gently bouncing so you can get the feel of things. I always try to stay right in the center of the trampoline because I'm afraid if I get too close to the edge, I'll get my feet tangled in the bungees and fall....I'm a klutz, just so you know (and I'm not kidding here). After you've bounced gently and slowly, you can start to increase your height and speed. I've found the higher I go, the less stable I am. You can twist from side to side as you jump up and down, you can do jumping jacks, you can alternate feet...there's a lot you can do. Just the up and down motion stimulates the lymphatic system and disburses the lymphatic fluid. (There are many rebounding routines out there on the internet if you need one.)
Since I tend to get a little wobbly and off balance, I've found that it helps me to use a stablizing bar. You can purchase one specifically for your rebounder but I've found I can scoot the rebounder close to my treadmill and hold onto one of the treadmill bars while I jump. Holding on to the bar affords me some much needed stability and gives me more confidence as I jump higher and higher.
Today, as I was jumping, I started to form my own little jumping routine. First I marched in place to give my heart rate time to increase gradually. Next, I started to jump up and down gently and then began jumping from side to side. After doing that for a little bit, I started to twist side to side as I jumped. I was having fun! I decided to ramp it up a notch and started bouncing harder and faster. Within just a few minutes I had to stop! My heart was beating really fast and I could hardly breathe. I wondered why I was having trouble breathing...I hadn't ever had difficulty breathing when exercising before and then, I remembered.
When I had my PET scan, to look for the spread of cancer in my body, the radiologist noted I'd had damage to my right anterior lobe of my lung from the radiation treatments. I guess that's why I was getting out of breath easily, so I slowed it down a bit and felt better. As I continued jumping, I had to laugh. Here I was jumping on my rebounder while holding onto the treadmill handrails. I got a mental image of myself being really energetic and doing a big jump from the rebounder right onto the treadmill and immediately beginning a rapid jog. Before my mind could return me from the treadmill back to the rebounder, I took a deep breath and hopped off. I'd better not push it. One and a half lung isn't the greatest for rebounding but it surely would be stressed to the max if I included jogging on the treadmill too. I'd hate to have had to call 911 and tried to explain what I was doing and how I'd gotten so out of breath. I don't think they would have believed me.
Rebounding is a fun, low impact exercise and I highly recommend it. Just be careful and check with your doctor first.
© bonnie annis all rights reserved
Monday, November 2, 2015
I'm broken and you can't fix it
I have to admit something that I really don't want to admit, because when I do, you'll see my flaws...you'll see that I'm broken...messed up...and in need of repair. I've tried for some time to hide it but I can't do it any more. I give up. I admit defeat. I'm suffering. I'm depressed. There I said it. I feel a little better just knowing it's out there. And admitting it is a huge thing for me. I'm never depressed...well, I never used to be. Oh sure, sometimes I'd get a little down in the dumps but I'd always pick myself up, dust myself off and keep on going. I never let things really bother me. This time, I'm not sure if I can get myself out of this pit.
I guess it's healthy to be writing about it. At least I've admitted I have a problem. Isn't that what they want you to do when you go to counseling? Pinpoint the problem, accept it, discuss ways to conquer the problem and then work on solving it...right. So in essence, I'm giving myself a counseling session.
Counselor (me): So, Bonnie, what seems to be the problem?
counselee (me): I'm feeling depressed and alone.
Counselor: And why do you feel this way?
counselee: I don't really know.
Counselor: Let's think about it. What makes you feel depressed and alone?
counselee: Being alone all day...alone with my thoughts...having no friends and no one to talk to...I feel like I don't matter.
Counselor: So I hear you saying you feel like you don't matter because you have no friends or anyone to talk to is that right?
counselee: Yes, that's right. Things just haven't turned out like I expected.
Counselor: How so?
counselee: I never dreamed I'd get breast cancer...ever. It was a total shock and then, I spent the last year going through surgery and treatment. For over a year, all I've done is go from one doctor to another. I didn't have time to think about any of it. All I did was focus on getting through the next day, doing what I was told and trying to fight through the fatigue. Now that things have slowed down, I'm really having time to process all of it.
Counselor: And how does that make you feel?
counselee: It makes me feel scared and lonely, like I need help. I've tried so hard to keep anyone from knowing that I was struggling. I've tried hard to be brave and strong. I've tried not to let my emotions overtake me.
Counselor: Why did you feel like you had to be strong?
counselee: I felt like I had to be strong for my husband and my family. They expected me to be brave...to push through and to fight hard.
Counselor: And did you?
counselee: I did to a degree. I always kept my innermost thoughts and feelings to myself.
Counselor: Did you ever share those thoughts and feelings with anyone?
counselee: The only person I ever shared them with was God. I pour out my heart to Him daily and I find encouragement in the Bible but sometimes, I just want to talk with someone face to face...to really hear their feedback...to know that I'm not crazy.
Counselor: Why do you think you're crazy?
counselee: I feel like admitting I'm struggling is a sign of weakness. I shouldn't be feeling this way.
Counselor: So you're saying you feel admitting your hardships in dealing with the aftermath of breast cancer is a sign of weakness?
counselee: Yes, I do.
Counselor: Do you feel strength is admirable while weakness is something to be ashamed of?
counselee: Sometimes I do feel that way. I've always had to be strong. Admitting I can't handle something by myself is difficult. I've never asked for help before.
Counselor: How does asking for help make you feel?
counselee: At first, it makes me feel insufficient, weak, broken. But as I talk about it, I'm realizing it helps to process the problem. A joke just popped into my head. May I share it with you?
Counselor: Sure.
counselee: How do you eat an elephant?
Counselor: I don't know. How do you eat an elephant?
counselee: One bite at a time. Thinking of that joke helped me see that the only way to conquer my problem is to take tiny, little bites...
Counselor: So how does the first bite taste?
counselee: It tastes pretty sweet.
Counselor: I'm so glad. Our time is up for today. We'll continue again next week. In the meantime, I want you to promise not to focus on the whole elephant. Concentrate on the next bite only. Write down your feelings and don't sugar coat them. You and I are the only ones who'll see your notes. Be honest with yourself and in so doing, you'll begin to see with clarity.
Well, that was a productive first counseling session, don't you agree? I think I did a good job as both the counselor and the counselee. Sometimes, it's good to have a conversation with yourself...especially when you can be impartial and see both sides of things.
Through my "counseling session" I think I've discovered I'm suffering from a.c. depression (After Cancer Depression...I made up that term so I'm not sure if it's really a legitimate condition but if it isn't, it should be!) I haven't been part of any sort of group therapies or self help healing since being diagnosed. I've just been trying to figure things out on my own. Maybe that's why I'm struggling. Maybe I need to have a conversation with my oncologist about this depression, but if I do, I know he'll just say "Let me prescribe an anti-depressant." I don't want any more drugs, so I'll stick with the Great Physician, God.
I know my struggle doesn't have to be wrapped up into a neat, tidy bow with all the answers. I know, even while I'm broken and tattered, that God is still working on me. He's refining me and teaching me. This depression is probably part of a condition called Seasonal Affective Disorder which affects many people during the darker, colder months. I've never been diagnosed with it, but I'm sure it's normal for most people to be a little depressed when the weather is gloomy. Some days are worse than others. These gray, rainy days make my mood more introspective. I'm going to have to work hard to get out of these doldrums. Maybe if I reach down and take hold of my bootstrap, I can pick myself up and dust myself off....afterall, tomorrow is another day.
© bonnie annis all rights reserved
I guess it's healthy to be writing about it. At least I've admitted I have a problem. Isn't that what they want you to do when you go to counseling? Pinpoint the problem, accept it, discuss ways to conquer the problem and then work on solving it...right. So in essence, I'm giving myself a counseling session.
Counselor (me): So, Bonnie, what seems to be the problem?
counselee (me): I'm feeling depressed and alone.
Counselor: And why do you feel this way?
counselee: I don't really know.
Counselor: Let's think about it. What makes you feel depressed and alone?
counselee: Being alone all day...alone with my thoughts...having no friends and no one to talk to...I feel like I don't matter.
Counselor: So I hear you saying you feel like you don't matter because you have no friends or anyone to talk to is that right?
counselee: Yes, that's right. Things just haven't turned out like I expected.
Counselor: How so?
counselee: I never dreamed I'd get breast cancer...ever. It was a total shock and then, I spent the last year going through surgery and treatment. For over a year, all I've done is go from one doctor to another. I didn't have time to think about any of it. All I did was focus on getting through the next day, doing what I was told and trying to fight through the fatigue. Now that things have slowed down, I'm really having time to process all of it.
Counselor: And how does that make you feel?
counselee: It makes me feel scared and lonely, like I need help. I've tried so hard to keep anyone from knowing that I was struggling. I've tried hard to be brave and strong. I've tried not to let my emotions overtake me.
Counselor: Why did you feel like you had to be strong?
counselee: I felt like I had to be strong for my husband and my family. They expected me to be brave...to push through and to fight hard.
Counselor: And did you?
counselee: I did to a degree. I always kept my innermost thoughts and feelings to myself.
Counselor: Did you ever share those thoughts and feelings with anyone?
counselee: The only person I ever shared them with was God. I pour out my heart to Him daily and I find encouragement in the Bible but sometimes, I just want to talk with someone face to face...to really hear their feedback...to know that I'm not crazy.
Counselor: Why do you think you're crazy?
counselee: I feel like admitting I'm struggling is a sign of weakness. I shouldn't be feeling this way.
Counselor: So you're saying you feel admitting your hardships in dealing with the aftermath of breast cancer is a sign of weakness?
counselee: Yes, I do.
Counselor: Do you feel strength is admirable while weakness is something to be ashamed of?
counselee: Sometimes I do feel that way. I've always had to be strong. Admitting I can't handle something by myself is difficult. I've never asked for help before.
Counselor: How does asking for help make you feel?
counselee: At first, it makes me feel insufficient, weak, broken. But as I talk about it, I'm realizing it helps to process the problem. A joke just popped into my head. May I share it with you?
Counselor: Sure.
Counselor: I don't know. How do you eat an elephant?
counselee: One bite at a time. Thinking of that joke helped me see that the only way to conquer my problem is to take tiny, little bites...
Counselor: So how does the first bite taste?
counselee: It tastes pretty sweet.
Counselor: I'm so glad. Our time is up for today. We'll continue again next week. In the meantime, I want you to promise not to focus on the whole elephant. Concentrate on the next bite only. Write down your feelings and don't sugar coat them. You and I are the only ones who'll see your notes. Be honest with yourself and in so doing, you'll begin to see with clarity.
Well, that was a productive first counseling session, don't you agree? I think I did a good job as both the counselor and the counselee. Sometimes, it's good to have a conversation with yourself...especially when you can be impartial and see both sides of things.
Through my "counseling session" I think I've discovered I'm suffering from a.c. depression (After Cancer Depression...I made up that term so I'm not sure if it's really a legitimate condition but if it isn't, it should be!) I haven't been part of any sort of group therapies or self help healing since being diagnosed. I've just been trying to figure things out on my own. Maybe that's why I'm struggling. Maybe I need to have a conversation with my oncologist about this depression, but if I do, I know he'll just say "Let me prescribe an anti-depressant." I don't want any more drugs, so I'll stick with the Great Physician, God.
I know my struggle doesn't have to be wrapped up into a neat, tidy bow with all the answers. I know, even while I'm broken and tattered, that God is still working on me. He's refining me and teaching me. This depression is probably part of a condition called Seasonal Affective Disorder which affects many people during the darker, colder months. I've never been diagnosed with it, but I'm sure it's normal for most people to be a little depressed when the weather is gloomy. Some days are worse than others. These gray, rainy days make my mood more introspective. I'm going to have to work hard to get out of these doldrums. Maybe if I reach down and take hold of my bootstrap, I can pick myself up and dust myself off....afterall, tomorrow is another day.
© bonnie annis all rights reserved
Sunday, November 1, 2015
Landslide
The clock on the kitchen wall chimes. I glance toward it and realize I've forgotten to turn the time back. Spring forward...fall back. Daylight savings time. I've never understood why it was necessary to turn back the hands of time. It gets darker earlier now, true, but why set the clocks back? Why not just leave time alone and let it be? Why do we have to interfere?
Time has become an important realization in my life lately. It seems, with every leaf that falls, with every minute that ticks by, I'm realizing things never stay the same. Stevie Nicks' song, Landslide, pummels my mind. These verses crowd my thoughts:
"Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Well, I've been afraid of changing
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes you bolder, even children get older and I'm getting older too"
I ponder the questions in the song lyrics. Can I handle the seasons of my life? I don't know. When I was younger, I'd have immediately said yes. Now that I'm older, the seasons are becoming more difficult to handle, more challenging than I'd ever dreamed.
I have been afraid of changing. Every time I look into the mirror, I see myself growing older. No matter how many times I color my hair to hide the whiteness, no matter how much makeup I put on...I can't hide the fact that I'll soon have 58 years. I feel my body deteriorating daily. My strength isn't what it used to be. I'm not as limber as I once was. Just like the trees outside. I feel like I'm entering the Autumn of my life. I feel like I'm on the edge of a great precipice looking down and soon, the landslide will come and carry me away. Life is so fragile.
Speaking of fragile life, yesterday, I went to visit my mother. She's in a nursing home. My husband was sweet enough to take me to see her. It's a long drive and took nearly 2 hours to get there. When we entered the room, she was lying in bed watching one of her favorite shows on television. Her frail, little roommate was sitting in her wheelchair on her side of the room. We spoke to Mrs. "S" as we entered, remembering she is hard of hearing we spoke a little louder than we normally would have spoken. She replied a feeble hello. Mama looked up as we approached and smiled. She was glad to see us. I noticed, since our last visit, she's aged. Her eyes looked weaker. Her hands shakier. Her body is wearing out. As we visited, I tried to pay attention to little details, to listen more intently. We had a good visit and after a few hours, I could tell Mama was becoming tired so we said our goodbyes and left. Time. Where had it gone?
Sometimes I wish I was still a child. It was easier back then. There was security in knowing my parents would be there to love and protect me. I felt safe knowing whenever I had a problem I could run to my mother, but now, I don't burden her with my problems. She's got enough of her own. It's sad to realize nothing ever stays the same. Things are always changing.
On the drive home, I looked over at my husband. I've built my life around you. I see he's getting older too. His hair is a beautiful silvery gray. His beard is stark white. He is my life love, so tender and so kind. He is my rock...sturdy and strong. He is dependable, faithful, and true. I have built my life around him. But time is working against us. How much longer will we have together? Sometimes I am afraid. I'm afraid of being alone.
The leaves on the trees are clinging with all their might through this gentle Fall rain, but some of them just can't hold on any longer. I watch them drift slowly down to the ground. They float so tenderly. Within days, the leaves that have fallen will turn brown...dead...lifeless. Their beautiful color will fade and be no more.
But as I look at the leaves I am reminded of something. Life and death go hand in hand. The dead leaves covering the ground will provide a covering for little seedlings that will emerge in the Spring. Their decay will provide good, fertilized soil and nutrients for new life in a few months.
The hour chimes on my clock and once again, I think of my life. Time makes you bolder. I don't see myself as bold, but as I've gotten older, I've taken more chances. Since being diagnosed with breast cancer, my priorities have changed. I've realized how very short life truly is and I try to live in the moment now.
Even children get older...I'm not the only one getting older. I see my children getting older, too. While I still sometimes see them as they were when they were younger, I realize they are adults now. They are capable of making their own decisions. They don't need me as much as they once did. I watch them as they live their lives. I'm proud of the people they've become. I've raised them well. Now they have children of their own and they are growing too. My grandchildren. Eight of them. The oldest is in college and the youngest will turn one this week. Time is flying by as they change and grow.
Time, precious time. It quietly slips away. Not a single moment can ever be saved. Once it's gone, it's gone. Spring forward. Fall back. The clock keeps ticking. No matter how we try to adjust the time, we're only given a certain number of moments here on this earth and when our time's up, it's up.
There's a landslide heading my way and as much as I'd like to dodge it and let it sweep right past me, I don't think that's going to happen. I'm bracing for it already. I don't know when the first rock will tumble down but I'm watching.
Another leaf just let go. It's time was up. It had a good life clinging to the safety and security of the tree. At one time, it drew sustenance and provided shade. I've come to realize that my life is like a leaf, floating on the breeze. One day here and the next day gone. And that's the way it should be, but time is so very short....cancer helps you realize that fact and helps you see things so much more clearly. And time, while fleeting, is so very precious.
While Stevie Nicks' song was about her discontentment with life circumstances and the possible break up of her band, Landslide, means so much more to me. Change is inevitable. Change is constant, says Benjamin Disraeli and I agree.
© bonnie annis all rights reserved
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