Twelve Years After Cancer

Twelve years ago, I heard the words no one ever wants to hear: You have cancer. In that moment, life split into two distinct chapters—before cancer and after cancer. Nothing has ever looked quite the same since that horrible day. Every year since my diagnosis, I've celebrated life.

Celebrating the Early Years of Survival

In those early years, the celebrations were big. I wasn't sure I would make it to the next anniversary, so each one felt monumental. My family gathered around tables filled with laughter and gratitude. Many photos were taken. Cakes were decorated. Hugs lingered a little longer. We celebrated not just survival, but possibility.

I remember reaching the five-year mark, a milestone often viewed as the gold standard in the cancer world. People cheered, doctors smiled, and friends breathed easier. It was as though I had crossed an invisible finish line, but something interesting happened after that.

As the years passed, the celebrations became smaller. Family members, relieved that I had done well, naturally shifted their focus back to everyday life. The urgency faded for them; after all, I was okay—or at least, I looked okay. My cancerversary didn't take the same prominence in their lives, and often I'd have to remind them it had come again.

The Hidden Reality of Cancer Survivorship

What many people don't understand is that survivorship doesn't erase the experience of cancer. Even years later, there is often a quiet awareness tucked into the corners of our minds. A strange ache can trigger questions. A routine scan can stir anxiety. A doctor's appointment can awaken memories we'd rather leave behind. The fear of recurrence never completely disappears.

I don't dwell on it. I don't allow it to steal today's joy, but I acknowledge that it's there. That's one of the reasons I continue to celebrate every cancer-free anniversary—because I know what it means.

I know what it is to sit in waiting rooms holding my breath. I know what it feels like to hear medical terminology become part of everyday conversation. I know what it means to face uncertainty and keep moving forward anyway. Surviving cancer changes you.

Learning to Treasure Ordinary Days

It teaches you that tomorrow isn't guaranteed. It strips away the illusion of unlimited time. It causes you to notice ordinary miracles—the warmth of sunlight on your face, the sound of your grandchildren laughing, a meal shared with people you love, or another birthday candle to blow out.

Twelve years is a long time to live after cancer, and I am profoundly grateful for every single one of those years. So when should a cancer survivor stop celebrating? My answer is simple: never. Not because we're living in fear, but because we're living with appreciation.

Celebration isn't denial. It isn't pretending that the difficult parts never happened. It is acknowledging that they did happen and that somehow, through treatment, tears, setbacks, prayers, determination, and grace, we are still here.

Why Some People Don't Understand Cancerversaries

Some people may not understand that, especially when you share each milestone on social media. I've had both positive and negative reactions there. Old friends from high school have wondered why I still mark the date. They've commented with things like, "Haven't you moved on by now?"

The truth is, I have moved on. I've built a life beyond cancer. I've embraced joy, pursued new dreams, and created beautiful memories. But moving on doesn't mean forgetting.

Cancer became part of my story, but it did not become the end of it. And if one day the disease returns, as it sadly does for some survivors, I will face that challenge when and if it comes. I pray it never does. I do my best to trust God with the unknowns that remain beyond my control.

Every Anniversary Is Worth Celebrating

In the meantime, I refuse to postpone joy. I will celebrate the clear scans and anniversaries. I will celebrate ordinary days that once felt so uncertain because surviving a battle we never chose to fight takes courage. It takes determination. It takes resilience. It requires getting up on days when fear whispers loudly and hope feels fragile.

Cancer survivors understand that life itself is worth commemorating. Perhaps that's what survivorship really means. It isn't simply counting the years since diagnosis. It's learning to live fully within those years. It's choosing gratitude over bitterness. It's finding reasons to laugh again. It's recognizing that every new season, every milestone, every ordinary Tuesday is a gift.

So this year, I will celebrate twelve years of being cancer-free. I will probably take more pictures than necessary. I'll gather with the people I love. I'll reflect on how far I've come and offer prayers of thanksgiving for the journey. I'll more than likely have a big slice of cake. I'll do all these things not because I am afraid, not because I am stuck in the past, but because I understand something cancer taught me long ago: life is precious, and milestones matter.

There Is No Expiration Date on Gratitude

If you're a fellow survivor wondering whether it's still acceptable to celebrate five years, ten years, twenty years, or beyond, let me assure you that there is no expiration date on gratitude.

You don't need permission to honor the road you've traveled or the strength it took to get here. Celebrate in whatever way feels meaningful to you. Celebrate loudly or quietly. Celebrate with a party or with a whispered prayer. Put it all over social media—but celebrate, because every anniversary represents another year of hope, another year of memories made, another year of choosing life despite knowing how fragile it can be.

As for me, if God grants me another year to celebrate, I intend to do exactly that—with no apologies.

My 10th cancerversary approaches

It's hard to believe that on July 9th of this year, I'll celebrate a decade of being cancer free! Wow! 

I still don't understand why God has allowed me to survive this long without a recurrence, but I'm thankful. 

As I read back through my old blog posts, I'm thrust back into the thick of things when cancer was new to me and I was more scared than I care to admit. But that's a good thing too, I think. It's important to remember. 

I'm so glad I write things down. Now that I'm older, my memory isn't as sharp as it once was. Oh, I can remember things that happened 50 or 60 years ago with no problem, but remembering what I had for lunch yesterday - I have to really try hard to think and remember that. 

For the past 10 years, cancer consumed my life. Now, I feel like I can put it behind me. Believe me, I'm not naive. I have a friend, also named Bonnie, who was diagnosed with cancer about 25 years ago. She was cancer free for about 22 years and then, it came back with a vengeance and took her life. 

While I know cancer could come back into my life again one day, I'm praying it doesn't. It's nasty business and I don't ever want to deal with it again. 

I didn't realize, until this year, how much power I'd given cancer over my life. Every time I had a medical issue, I assumed the cancer was rearing its ugly head again and was about to pay me a surprise visit. That fear of recurrence manifested itself into chronic insomnia, PTSD, and anxiety. Each of those were tough to overcome and truth be told, I still struggle with all of them in some form or fashion. 

I've found some things that help though like CBD gummies or tinctures for PTSD, art therapy has helped with anxiety, and my doc has given me a prescription to help with insomnia. I never thought I'd need help with those things, but I did and still do. It's not something I'm ashamed of, it's just a byproduct of cancer trauma. And it's okay to do whatever necessary to battle them so I can live a semi normal and productive life. 

Many people have no clue how cancer affects a person's mental and emotional health. They can often see physical effects of the disease, but it's not as easy for outsiders to see or understand the other sides. 

Some survivors of cancer are starting to realize these various side effects are normal. They are learning it's okay to discuss their struggles and admit to dealing with the challenges these side effects bring to their daily lives. As they do, they find others are facing the same things. 

Cancer definitely alters a person's life but I've found it's best to look for the ways it's helped me survive instead of focusing on what it took from me. 

It has not been an easy road to travel and honestly, I'd never want to do it again. I have realized, over these past 10 years. that I have a good bit of gumption in my soul. The dictionary describes this old Southern term as meaning to have initiative; aggressiveness; or resourcefulness. I think it fits perfectly, don't you? 

Cancer survivors need that inner drive to survive. It's doable, but it takes guts and grit to get there. 

Box of Regrets

 

Tomorrow is my 8th cancerversary. You'd think I'd be overwhelmed with joy today and extremely excited about reaching this important milestone and you'd be right. I am, truly, but I'm also overwhelmed with grief. I still long for the me I lost, the me who was self-confident and self-assured, the one who existed long before cancer came knocking at my door. And though I feel conflicted today, I beat myself up for feeling this way. 

Why is it so easy to look back on life and be reminded of all the nasty, horrible, awful things that occurred or remember the bad choices we made? Why isn't it as easy to be filled with gratitude? It seems it takes more effort to count my blessings than to count my regrets. 

Today, my youngest daughter sent me a link to this song, Box of Regrets by Mega. I'd never heard it before but wasn't surprised at how it pricked my soul. My youngest knows me well, almost too well. And while she doesn't know all the terrible, awful I've experienced in my life, I have shared a few of the more painful things with her. She and I are so alike that it scares me at times. 

We're both empaths. It's a difficult gift to bear, but one God hands out to a select few. I'm thankful He gifted us with empathy, to love others so deeply is one of the ways we can be most like Christ. I don't think I'd want any other gift if I'd had the right to choose. 

8 years. I never thought I'd make it this far post diagnosis. I assumed I'd die before the 5-year mark, especially since I didn't go the conventional treatment route, but God had other plans. In His sovereignty, He's granted me favor. He's allowed me to continue living so I'd better dump out my box of regrets and shift gears. It's time I learn to maintain an attitude of gratitude, as cliche as it may sound. 

So today, I'm making a commitment to myself. I will make a conscious effort to focus on my blessings more than on my regrets. 

The first verse of the song sums it up so well: For too long I've carried

all of my woes, scrutinized them and held them close. All the missteps and mistakes, I've let them linger taking up too much space. Indeed. 

But God...

He has taken my burden and set me free. 

I guess I just needed to be reminded of this today, so thank you, my sweet girl, for the song and for being you. I love you, Jamie. Always and forever, Mom

Box Of Regrets

By Mega


For too long I've carried
All of my woes
Scrutinized them
And held them close
All the missteps
And mistakes
I've let them linger
Taking up too much space

Until you took the weight and set me free
Oh, you came along, and you held the key

To my
Beautiful box of regrets
It's time to change
It's time to forget
For too long I've cried to
Looked at my life through
My beautiful box of regrets

It was painted with my pain
Held a mirror when I fell from grace
The strangest comfort familiar hurt
Useless treasure all I was ever worth

Until you took the weight and set me free
Oh, you came along, and you held the key

To my
Beautiful box of regrets
It's time to change
It's time to forget
For too long I've cried to
Looked at my life through
My beautiful box of regrets

Setting fire to the heartache
Now I'm burning, burning the past
Lift this weight from my shoulders
It's time to let go I can no longer hold this

Beautiful box of regrets
It's time to change
It's time to forget
For too long I've cried to
Looked at my life through
My beautiful box of regrets

Beautiful box of regrets
It's time to change
It's time to forget
For too long I've cried to
Looked at my life through
My beautiful box of regrets
Beautiful box of regrets

Listen here: (2269) Mega - Box of Regrets [Official Audio] - YouTube

Tomorrow is the big day

Tomorrow is the big day, the day I celebrate 7 years of being cancer free. 

As I think back on all God's brought me through, I can't believe I've made it this far. 

A friend I met through an online breast cancer site and I share the exact same diagnosis and we were diagnosed just a few months apart from each other. She's not doing well at all and is about to enter hospice. I can't help but wonder why God's allowing me to live on while she is facing the end of her life. It hurts my heart and while I can't quite understand it, I have to remember God is God and I am not. He and He alone has numbered our days. My only hope is that my friend will know she was well loved and she will certainly be missed when she goes home to meet the Lord. I'm so thankful for her faithful witness, her strength and her resilience. Though she chose a different treatment path than I, I can't help but wonder if perhaps the chemotherapy and all of the other medications she endured during treatment may have contributed to her ill health. 

When I first began fighting cancer, I chose to go the natural route. The only conventional treatment I agreed to was surgery and radiation therapy. I felt those were the best choices for me and for the most part, I've been happy. Other than the burns I suffered and the cording, I think I've done quite well. It hasn't been a bed of roses though, by any means. And the side effect of lymphedema in both arms sucks, but I'm still here, so how can I complain? 

Everyone has to make their own decisions in the fight against cancer and we can never fault someone for choosing a treatment plan that differs from our own. We all want to live and we'll do anything possible to gain better odds toward that end goal, but sometimes, we react from fear and don't always make the best decisions. 

It would be nice if doctors would present all choices and allow the patient to make an informed decision, but that isn't usually the case. Most doctors steer patients toward conventional therapies and those usually involve severe life altering remedies. Chemotherapy and radiation both kill the good and bad cells in our bodies. There's no way to only target the cancer cells. If there were, we'd have so many more survivors than we currently have. 

I've always wondered why doctors don't help their patients discover natural, less invasive solutions to fighting cancer. Their Hippocratic oath of "Do no harm" should be all encompassing, but there are big bucks in big pharma and many doctors are all about the dollar signs. 

Seven years seems like a lifetime ago. It's hard to remember what life was like B.C. (before cancer) but I try. Some of the things I do remember and miss terribly are my physical stamina and my body image. I used to have so much energy I could go for days, now, I'm lucky if I make it to 9:00 p.m. without flopping into bed exhausted. I used to look in the mirror and think, "Hey, you're one hot chick!" But now, I can't help but look at my body with sadness and disgust. 

God has been faithful and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, He understands all of the emotions I've faced throughout these past 7 years. He's watched me cry tears of heartbreak and joy. He's held me tight when I felt I was unloved and unlovely. He's comforted me and given me strength on days I never thought I'd make it. I am so grateful He's deemed me fit to continue on. I know He still has work for me to do. 

Throughout my 63 years on Earth, I've learned, over and over again, through every trial I've ever faced that God is loving and kind. He has a good plan for me, a plan to prosper me and not to harm me. A plan to give me a future and a hope. 

And so, I press on. 

Now instead of watching the clock, I move through life minute by minute trusting God for the next step along the way. Jesus is my portion. He is my one true love. He is my everything. His eye is on the sparrow And I know He watches me

Time for Thankfulness

It's been a good while since I've written. Honestly, I can't remember the date of my last post without looking it up and that's a good thing. That means I've been busy living my life and although this year has been full of challenges, it's been a good year.

In October, I crossed another item off my bucket list. For over 45 years, I've dreamed of going to Israel and finally, it happened. My husband and I joined a group of other Christians for a 10 day pilgrimage to the Holy Land. It was exciting, exhausting, and very memorable. I could write a book about the things I saw and experienced but for the sake of keeping this post fairly short, I will only touch on a couple of things.

Israel is a crazy, busy place! I never dreamed it would be so full of people, buildings, and traffic. Along with all that, there are, of course, the historical, biblical sites and we visited most of them while there. Every single day of our trip was packed with places to go and things to do. We'd have our 5:00 a.m. wakeup call, get dressed, eat breakfast, and be on the tour bus ready to go by 7:00 a.m. We'd return each day around 6 or 7pm, grab a quick dinner, and fall into bed exhausted.

Speaking of falling, on the second day of our trip, I fell and hard. We were in the City of David and had just completed a tour through some archaeological ruins. I was taking photographs of the city and walking as I maneuvered around others in our group to the perfect shot without bodies in it. As I walked toward an overlook of the city, I completely missed a step and went flying through the air. I landed yards from my original location and managed to fall with all my weight on my right knee. Before being helped up, I noticed how close I was to the edge of the platform. A few more feet and I would have been over the cliff. I took time to offer a prayer of thanks and then felt two strong arms helping me up.

Immediately, upon rising, my knee began to swell and throb. I was almost sure I'd broken my kneecap. My husband helped me find a place to sit and I pulled up my pants to see the damage. Already my knee was turning purple and the swelling was growing. From that point on I knew this was not going to be a good day.

But while in Israel, I did get to ride a camel (another thing to scratch off my bucket list) and I did get to walk on the Gospel Trail, a trail used by Jesus and his disciples to travel from Nazareth to the Sea of Galilee.

The Temple Mount, Dome of the Rock

Getting kissed by my camel friend, Sam

 After several weeks, my knee has finally healed and I've been able to put the walker away. Now I'm focusing on preparations for Thanksgiving and finding myself entering a season of thanksgiving.

This year has been full of things for which to be thankful. My brother survived major heart surgery, our family was blessed with the addition of two little ones, I celebrated my 4th cancerversary, Phil and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary, my youngest grandson, Garrett, celebrated his 1st birthday (which is a miracle since he was born prematurely and had major health challenges), we enjoyed a vacation to Mexico Beach before Hurricane Michael devastated that area, enjoyed our first international trip, and are now planning a mountain retreat.

The year has also been filled with sadness. We lost 2 uncles this year and a cousin had a major stroke. But through it all, God has been good. We are so very grateful for all of His wonderful blessings and especially thankful for sweet memories that will carry us through the end of the year.

Christmas will be hard with both of our sets of parents no longer with us, but we'll celebrate with those able to join us.

I've still been writing for the cancer magazine but will leave that behind at the end of the year and focus on completing my book. I've put it on hold for some time now and feel God prompting me to get busy writing it.

In February, I'll see the oncologist again and hopefully get good news. It's hard to believe 2019 will be the year I finally reach my 5 year mark. When that rolls around, on July 9th, I'm hoping to have a big celebration. That 5 year milestone is an important one. Doctors say that most breast cancer patients who'll have a recurrence usually have it within the first 5 years post diagnosis. I hope to prove them wrong.

And that's where things lie today. Early next week, I'll begin my holiday baking and I can't wait for that. Christmas decorations are already going up and yes, I've been enjoying many Hallmark holiday movies :)

I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving filled with God's best blessings. I'll try to post more often but in the event I don't, know that life is good and I'm busy living it. Spread love, Bonnie

What I really want

The other day, I was reading in the Bible about the blind beggar. In the book of Mark, the author tells us that the beggar was on the side of the road as Jesus was passing by. Knowing that Jesus was the Healer, the beggar began to call our to Him. At that point, Jesus turns to him and asks, "What do you want me to do for you?"

I've always wondered why Jesus made the beggar verbalize his need. I'm sure it wasn't to give Jesus clarity, because He is all knowing. Perhaps it was to cause the beggar to really stop and think what he wanted. I'm sure as the beggar searched his heart, he probably had many requests he'd love Jesus to grant, but being forced to pinpoint his desire made him choose the most important thing. The beggar wanted his sight. That was the one thing he needed Jesus to do for him - heal his blindness. And Jesus did.

I just celebrated my fourth cancerversary. This year was very low key. My husband, two of my children, their significant others, and one of my grandchildren went out to a restaurant to eat then came home for cake. The day was pleasant and although we didn't have a big celebration, as we'd done in the past, it was significant to mark the passing of another year since diagnosis.

Celebrating my fourth year since being diagnosed with cancer made me stop and think back to the story of the beggar. What did I really want? What did I want Jesus to do for me?

In my heart, I knew what I really wanted. I wanted to live more than just one more year. Making it to the elusive five year post cancer mark wasn't going to be good enough. I needed more! I wanted more! I wanted to live a long and happy life. I wanted to grow old and watch my grandchildren grow up.

Of course, truth be told, I wish I'd never been diagnosed with breast cancer in the first place and if I'd ever had the opportunity, I would have asked Jesus to completely rewind my life and allow me not to have experienced cancer but He doesn't work that way. As each year since diagnosis has passed, I realize all of this was part of His divine plan for my life. You see, without my having to take the hard road through cancer, I would never have learned the valuable lessons I've learned along the way.

When the blind man was on the side of the road calling to Jesus, he was desperate. He wanted to be healed and he knew Jesus had the power to give him the gift of sight. His faith in Jesus was manifest when Jesus required the man to verbalize his need. If the beggar had chosen to ask Jesus for something other than his sight, I doubt Jesus would have answered the request. Jesus, able to see into our hearts and minds, weighs carefully our needs. He always knows what's best for us even when we don't have that knowledge ourselves.

I could have asked Jesus to remove the cancerous tumor from my body and He might have done it if it fit into His perfect will for my life but, I never asked. Throughout my life, I've learned to trust whatever He sends my way, be it good or bad because I know each comes directly from His hand into my life for a reason.

My prayers now revolve around my desire to live as long as God will allow. It is my heart's desire that my life will be a blessing to others and that God will the receive glory. Each moment, each hour, each day He gives has been a gift and one I don't take lightly. Before cancer, I took so much for granted.

Have you ever thought about what you really want? If Jesus were standing before you, what request would you present to Him? Would you be willing to verbalize your need boldly like the beggar did?

Jesus said, in John 11: 25-26, "I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in Me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in Me will never die. Do you believe this?" 

You can have eternal life by believing in Jesus. You can be assured that you will be with Him through all eternity. It's very simple. If you'd like more information, click here.

To read the story of the blind beggar, click here. 

It's getting closer

In just a few more days, I'll celebrate my fourth cancerversary! It's hard to believe 4 years have gone by so quickly since the day I found out I had cancer. Sometimes, it seems another lifetime ago and sometimes it seems like just yesterday. More than anything in the world, I'm just thankful to still be alive.

The day I received my diagnosis, it felt like I'd been given a death sentence. It was almost as if I was handed a piece of parchment paper with my expiration date printed across it boldly in bloody red letters. As the paper was thrust into my hand, I didn't want to receive it. Though that didn't actually happen, it sure felt like it did. As I listened carefully to the voice on the other end of the telephone, the words traveled across time and emblazoned themselves upon my heart. I had cancer and not only did I have cancer, I had breast cancer.

Since that life changing day, I've been on an emotional roller-coaster. Some days have been really good and others have been extremely challenging. Not only has my mind been battered by an arsenal of thoughts and feelings, my body has also been assaulted. Test after test for the past four years have been on the lookout for any rogue cancer cells that might be wandering through my body. Thankfully none have been found, although a couple of years ago there was a suspicious mass on my spine. It turned out to be a hemangioma,  a benign tumor formed by a collection of excess blood vessels. I was extremely grateful.

I've had to work hard at learning how to return to normal since then. You'd think it would have been easy but the trauma of cancer changes things in a big way. Now I suffer from self esteem issues, severe chronic fatigue, residual pain, and the side effects of lymphedema. Each day I have to choose to push through. Some days are easier than others, but I do it anyway.

On July 9, I'll celebrate. That was the day in 2014 the cancer was removed from my body. I was actually diagnosed on June 5, 2014. This year, on July 9, it will have been 1462 since I began my new life post cancer. That's pretty amazing, I must say.

Happy 3rd Cancerversary to me!

It's been 1096 days since I was first diagnosed with breast cancer. Today is my third cancerversary and it's hard to believe it's been three years since I was diagnosed with Stage IIB Invasive Ductal Carcinoma.

We celebrated early (yesterday) with family at a local Chinese restaurant over a scrumptious dinner of all kinds of Chinese favorites. There was Moo Shu Chicken, Mongolian Beef, Egg Rolls, Fried Rice, Chicken Wor Bar, Sweet and Sour Shrimp, and some other dishes. We all ate to our hearts content sharing memories and laughter. It was a good time to just relax and let our hair down. Later, we came back to the house for cake and ice cream. The cake was from Publix and had delicious cream cheese frosting and a luscious center filled with chocolate and strawberries. It more than likely had a couple of thousand calories but we didn't mind! We were celebrating and calories didn't count.

Throughout the day, I'd been emotional. It was hard not to think about all the things I'd been through over the past three years. I couldn't help but remember the surgeries and the pain. There had been many struggles and physical challenges. I'd spent 840 minutes underneath a linear accelerator being radiated. I'd been sick from radiation fatigue and had experienced radiation burns along my right chest and neck. I'd gone through physical therapy, manual lymphatic drainage, and spinal therapy. I'd traveled many miles to countless appointments. I'd spend untold amounts of time on phone calls to doctors. I'd dished out hundreds of thousands of dollars on medical bills, prescriptions, bandages and ointments. I'd had MRI'S, CT SCANS, BONE SCANS, PET SCANS, ULTRASOUNDS, CORE NEEDLE BIOPSIES, XRAYS, MAMMOGRAMS, and more. I'd given pints of blood for testing.  I'd fought with insurance companies over medical equipment. I'd cried more tears than I could ever count in a million years. I'd suffered insomnia, nausea, cording, and Lymphedema. I'd tried three different anti-hormone therapy medications and had horrible side effects from each of them and the list goes on  and on. But, along with all those challenging, heart wrenching, terrible, horrible, awful, very bad things, I'd also experienced many priceless, beautiful, unforgettable moments. And those were the ones I tried to occupy my mind with on Saturday. Those were the ones that mattered the most.

I also thought about the people who'd been there to support me over the past three years. Some family members had been there through thick and thin while others had chosen not to be there at all. I'd made friends and connections with other breast cancer survivors through Facebook and breast cancer websites. I'd had complete strangers offer their love and support. It had been amazing! I have a briefcase full of greeting cards I've received over the past few years. Each and every one speaks volumes to my heart as I read them over and over again.

Never in a million years did I dream I'd still be alive three years after being diagnosed with breast cancer. I still remember the day I heard the words, "YOU HAVE CANCER." I thought surely I'd be dead within the year, but I'm still here! God is so good and I am extremely grateful! It's been a wild, crazy, tumultuous rollercoaster of a ride and even though I'm still on it, I'm thankful the curves, twists, and hairpin turns have drastically slowed down. I keep pushing toward that miraculous 5 year mark my oncologist keeps talking about...the one that's supposed to mark the "approaching safety zone" where the fear of recurrence gets all but obliterated but it seems so far away. No matter how hard I try, I can't help but wonder if I'll ever experience another round of cancer. I surely hope not but if I do, I'll be better prepared the next time around. But I'm really, really hoping there's no next time.

So, happy cancerversary to me! I've made it one more year. For some reason, it feels like cancer was just a tiny blip on the radar and now that tiny blip has disappeared and I'm home free. I guess that's kind of what hope feels like, isn't it? And speaking of hope, if you think about it, I'm already into the first day of my fourth year being "cancer free." (I put those words in quotes because my oncologist won't declare me cancer free although I did goad him into saying I was N.E.D. (no evidence of disease) on my last visit. Isn't that great?! Life is good and I am blessed. What more could a girl ask for? (except maybe a new Porsche and some diamond earrings...)

This weekend, I celebrated 2 years of being in remission. All day long I couldn't stop thinking about how blessed I was to be celebrating another year of life. I was hesitant to celebrate because I'd just had a complete body bone scan done the day before and I had no idea what the results of that test were, but I wanted to move forward and celebrate anyway. The day started out normally with routine Saturday housework. About mid morning, I received a nice surprise from my Texas girl. She'd sent a lovely arrangement of blue delphinium and white roses. She's so thoughtful and her arrangement really set the tone for the day. The blue and white flowers were so peaceful and serene, just the way I needed my day to be. 

Flowers from my girl

Early afternoon brought the arrival of my youngest daughter. She'd come to spend the weekend with us and help me celebrate. She's always so full of energy and we had fun catching up on her week and the latest information on her current relationship. 

As the day wore on, I took time to look back through my cancer notebook. When I was initially diagnosed, the hospital gave me a nice heavyweight vinyl binder with the words "Love Me...Love My Journey" printed on it. Inside were various dividers for medical bills and expenses, test results, medications, etc. I never thought I'd fill up that notebook, but after 2 years it's overflowing. I've tried to be diligent about recording every doctor visit, every lab test, every medication, every expense, and notes to help my children know what cancer felt like from day one. As I read back through my notes and recounted each event, I couldn't help but marvel at all I'd experienced. The past 2 years had been extremely difficult but I'd managed to make it through. I was proud of that accomplishment. 

The table set and ready

We began our celebration of my 2nd cancerversary with a family dinner at one of my favorite Chinese restaurants. Although only 2 of my children were able to be present, I was thankful they'd taken time out of their busy schedules to come be with me. My granddaughter, Heather, was such a joy to watch as she tried her best to master chopsticks. We enjoyed a leisurely dinner and ate to our heart's content. We left the restaurant with barely enough room for the dessert I had waiting at home. Earlier in the week, I'd stopped by a local bakery, Smallcakes,and ordered a special treat. They make the most decadent Key Lime cupcakes. 

Yummy Key Lime cupcakes

Back at the house, we entered my formal dining room. As soon as we walked in, Heather exclaimed, "HAPPY DAY!!! HAPPY DAY!!!" She's just a little shy of being 3 years old and can't quite say Happy Birthday but she knows what balloons and festive decorations mean...something good is about to happen. We couldn't help but laugh at her sweet, childlike expression of joy. It was indeed a happy day. With my family gathered around, I thanked them for standing by me for the past 2 years. As I began speaking, I was overcome with emotion and had to fight back tears to complete my expression of gratitude to them. The tears came in torrents as each one of them blessed me with their gifts of love. My daughter, Jamie, had written a sweet prayer and had it placed in the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. My daughter, Laura, had made a photo slideshow on DVD chronicling my journey. I was touched at their thoughtfulness. 

I am blessed to be so loved. My heart overflows with gratitude at all I've been given. Yes, I've suffered physical difficulties these past few years but the love of my family has made them much easier to bear. And now I start on this new year of life. I look forward to seeing what God has in store for me in the days ahead. And Heather was right, it was truly a HAPPY DAY!

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

A recap: Looking back over the past 2 years

Today, as I celebrate 2 years of being in remission, I thought it would be a good time to look back and remember all God's done since my initial diagnosis. This recap includes the majority of tests, surgeries, etc. but doesn't contain a lot of the daily evidences of God's amazing sense of humor and provision throughout the past 2 years. I tried my best to jot down the main things so others would be able to see God's faithfulness during this time of trial in my life but I kept some of the "sweeter" things hidden in my heart for myself. Please rejoice with me today as I celebrate my new life, my life after cancer. God isn't through with me yet and I'm excited to see what He does in the days to come. I'm being attentive with a watchful eye seeking His direction and counting His blessings. I hope you'll do the same in your life. And just think, the Creator of the Universe calls us His friends!

Beautiful flowers from my daughter, Erin.

March 1, 2014: I discovered the mass in my breast (I was not afraid when I felt the mass. God gave me a sense of peace that I can only explain as His protection as I look backward at the situation.)

March 28, 2014: We closed on our home (our home wasn't even on the market a full week before we had a contract on it! God made provision even when we were afraid our older home wouldn't sell!)

March 29, 2014: We moved into our new home (God provided a home only 8 miles from my husband's workplace. It's much smaller so it's less to take care of and is only one level! God knew I wouldn't be able to perform a lot of housework once I found out that Cancer would be a new part of my life.)

May 1, 2014: I kept feeling a nagging sense that I needed to find a doctor in Newnan (God prompted me over and over again so I wouldn't ignore the mass in my breast. Even though it felt like nothing much to me, He knew it needed immediate attention!)

May 16, 2014: I did an internet search to find an OB/GYN in this area (I had no idea what kind of doctor I needed to see about the mass but God prompted me to call an OB/GYN)

May 27, 2014: I had my first appointment with Dr. Dyson (the OB/GYN) where she felt the mass and referred me to have more testing done at Southern Crescent Women's Healthcare (God gave wisdom to the doctor to send me for further testing and I am very grateful for not only His prompting, but her listening!)

May 28, 2014: I had two diagnostic mammograms done and an ultrasound. The radiologist discovered a suspicious mass and suggested I have a vacuum core needle biopsy done (God allowed the radiologist to see clearly that there was a problem on the ultrasound screen. I remember the doctor commenting that the mass looked like a one armed crab. Crab, by the way, is the meaning of the word Cancer!)

June 2, 2014: I had the vacuum core needle biopsy done and tissue samples sent to pathology (God prompted the radiologist to order further testing. The tissue samples revealed the malignant cells)

June 5, 2014: I received the oral report from the doctor of radiology that my tissue was malignant (CANCER) (God knew before I did that the report was going to reveal Cancerous cells in the mass. When I answered the phone call, I had no idea that I would receive the shocking news while I was alone in the house. God knew I needed to process it in my own way and in my own timing therefore, He allowed the call to come when no one was home but me.)

June 6, 2014: I received a written copy of the pathology report in the mail (God knew I needed to see the results in writing so He prompted the written report to be mailed so quickly.)

June 9, 2014: Dr. Dyson's office recommended I see Dr. Nicole Sroka (a breast specialist surgeon) in Fayetteville (God had already planned for me to see one of the best breast surgeons in Georgia even before Dr. Dyson's office recommended Dr. Sroka! When I did research on her via the internet, I found that she is one of the very best in this area. Why would God give me anything less than the very best...afterall, He loves me with an everlasting love!)

June 11, 2014: Dr. Sroka met with me for over 2 hours discussing all aspects of surgery giving detailed diagrams and advice (God knows I am a very visual person so He worked it out so Dr. Sroka would be running late that day which in turn caused our appointment to run an hour late. The office staff had already left at 5pm but Dr. Sroka told me she was going to sit down with me and take as long as I needed so she could make sure I understood exactly what was going on and what the game plan would be. She stayed with me in the exam room for 2 hours sketching and explaining every little detail of the surgery to me. She was extremely patient and kind. God reassured me that He had everything under control!)

June 23, 2014: We met with a lawyer to prepare our personal wills (God knows I'm a practical person and allowed us to have time to take care of business before my surgery. He provided an attorney who helped us write up wills, medical directives, and powers of attorney.)

June 28, 2014: Two very dear friends came to spend the day with us and ministered God's love to me (God knew how scared I was about the surgery and he sent one of my very best friends to come and comfort me!)

July 2, 2014: My daughter, Laura, came to stay overnight with us and take me to my pre-operative appointments (God knew I would need extra moral support, so He prompted Laura to want to come be with me during testing)

July 3, 2014: Pre-operative tests were performed at Piedmont Hospital in Fayetteville (God knew all the tests that the doctor would need to have done before my surgery. He provided kind people to assist me and make sure my needs were met)

July 4, 2014: We traveled to the beach for a mini vacation and to process all of the medical news we'd received (God knows how long it takes me to process things and He made a way for us to spend time at the beach. A hurricane was brewing off the coast of Florida and we thought the trip would be a total wash out, but God blew the hurricane winds away and let us have bright, sunny days of perfection!)

July 7, 2014: We returned home (God gave us a safe trip back home and allowed us time to spend in prayer before more testing)

July 8: Returned to Piedmont Fayetteville for radioactive dye injections in both breasts (God prompted the doctor to order these tests to reveal whether or not malignant cells were in my lymph nodes)

July 9, 2014: Surgery was performed to remove both breasts and lymph nodes from each arm (Surgery took about 4 hours. God guided Dr. Sroka's hands and brought me through the surgery safely. Diagnosed with stage 2B Invasive Ductal Carcinoma with metastasis to the lymph glands.)

July 10, 2014: Released from the hospital late day (around 5:30 p.m.) (Nurses were very busy but God provided one lab tech, named Darci, to be my constant help. She went above and beyond the call of duty to serve me. God allowed me to progress in my healing so I could leave the hospital and be back in the comforts of my home)

July 12, 2014: My new friend, Karen Fedder, came to visit and share about her Cancer journey (God provided a sweet new friend who's already traveled the Cancer road. She has been able to give me advice, helpful hints, tips and help me know what to expect without sugar coating anything.)

July 18, 2014: Had my first fitting for prostheses and bras at Renewal in Fayetteville. (God provided a kind woman who didn’t make me feel embarrassed or afraid.)

August 7, 2014: Met with my oncologist, Dr. Trevor Feinstein to learn the results from my Oncotype DX test. (My rating was a 7 out of 100 which meant chances of recurrence were extremely low. When I saw the number 7, I immediately felt in my spirit that God was saying, “Bonnie, that’s the number of completion. You won’t have to worry about the cancer coming back again. It’s over.”) At this same appointment, Dr. Feinstein and I talked about treatment. Normally treatment would have been surgery, chemotherapy, radiation and then antihormone therapy. I was concerned about chemo because of the research I’d done and the harm it caused. I asked Dr. Feinstein what he would recommend in this exact same situation had his wife or daughter received my diagnosis. He said he would not recommend chemo because of the drastic and sometimes irreversible problems it causes in other parts of the body such as the heart or lungs. I was thankful for his honesty.

August 13, 2014: Met with the radiation oncologist to discuss my upcoming radiation treatments. I was told I needed to have 35 rounds of radiation with 5 concentrated boosts at the end of treatment. (God gave me a doctor who was direct and to the point. As she explained the plan, I knew exactly what was coming next so there were no surprises.)

August 22, 2015: Began treatment for lymphedema. Therapy sessions will be three times a week for a period of 2-3 months. (God gave me a Christian therapist. We shared out faith at each treatment and it was a great source of encouragement.)

September 2, 2014: Began radiation treatments. (God gave me such peace as my friends were praying for me and I was blessed to have no pain during treatment.)

September 3, 2014: Fitted for compression sleeves and gauntlets to manage lymphedema. (Once again, God provided a Christian to work with me. It was so nice to know God has strategically placed his people in my life.)

September 26, 2014: Radiation stopped temporarily because of severe burns to my chest. (I’m thankful the team noticed my skin deteriorating and stopped treatment for a bit.)

September 29, 2014: Radiation resumes. (My techs are so sweet and always make me laugh.)

October 1, 2014: Rushed to the hospital with chest pains. After multiple heart tests, I was released. (God put me in the hands of a caring doctor and all was fine.)

October 6, 2014: Radiation stopped once again due to dangerous burns on my chest. She wants me to apply Silvadene cream and return in 2 days. (God gave my doctor wisdom regarding treatment for the burns.)

October 8, 2014: Radiation resumes

October 15, 2014: Radiation completed!!! 28 rounds done. (I was so thankful to be finally done with radiation. I was warned to expect extreme fatigue for weeks following.)

November 15, 2015: Began antihormone therapy with Arimidex.

November 30, 2014: Stopped Arimidex due to bad side effects. (After much prayer, God prompted me to stop taking this medication.)

December 27, 2014: Began taking Tamoxifen per my oncologist

January 31, 2015: Discontinued Tamoxifen due to side effects. (Once again, God gave me wisdom to discontinue this medication.)

February 23, 2015: Began taking Aromasin but stopped one week later after much prayer and many troubling side effects. (I’m thankful my oncologist supported me in my decision and didn’t make me feel guilty. He said it’s my body and I am the one who ultimately has to decide what’s best for me.)

June 24, 2015: Ultrasound on ovaries to check for cancer. (None found! Praise God!)

July 9, 2015: Celebrated one year of being in remission. (God gave me a new year of life to enjoy and celebrate!)

July 15, 2015: MRI of the lumbar spine. (God allowed the doctors to find a suspicious mass at L5 and found a Hemangioma, bulging disks, osteoporosis and degenerative spine disease.)

July 23, 2015: PET scan done. (God performed a miracle! The suspicious mass at L5 has miraculously disappeared! No evidence of cancer. Praise God!)

August 14, 2015: Developed a seroma and had to return to the surgeon to have it drained. (God kept me from passing out as the doctor inserted a needle in my chest to remove accumulated fluid.)

August 28, 2015: Another surgery. Dr. Sroka needed to do surgery to remove necrotic tissue from the bilateral mastectomies. (God kept me safe and there were no problems)

January 12, 2016: Pain clinic for spinal pain. (After talking with that doctor, God told me not to return to that clinic. They are in the business of handing out drugs for pain and getting people hooked on opiates. I’m thankful He opened my eyes and let me see clearly.)

January 22, 2016: MRI of spine (God keep the test clear and no cancer was evident.)

March 30, 2016: Demonstration of recirculating compression pump to help with lymphedema (God used a sweet representative from the company LifeTouch to minister His love to me that day. It was a day when I was very down in the dumps and just needed a friend. She was here for about 3 hours and I enjoyed a good conversation with her while the equipment was being demonstrated on me. We talked a lot about God.)

July 8, 2016: Complete bone scan (I was able to take an anti-anxiety medication to help me remain calm while in the scanner. I was completely relaxed and able to endure the test without anxiety. The technician was very kind and pleasant.)

July 9, 2016: Celebrating my 2^nd cancerversary today. (The first thought that popped into my mind when I woke up was how very blessed I was to have been given 2 years of life since being diagnosed with breast cancer. I am so very thankful to be alive today and look forward to a grand celebration tonight with my family.)

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

How do I celebrate without guilt?

A reminder to others from me

Surviving cancer is an amazing accomplishment. Any survivor will tell you the fight, albeit extremely challenging, has been worth it once won. But accepting the title “survivor” comes with baggage for some. Instead of being able to celebrate survivorship with complete freedom, feelings of puzzlement can be overwhelming. Survivors may experience feelings of reservation at celebrating their good fortune. They may begin to wonder “why me.” It may be difficult to accept the fact that some with breast cancer survive and others do not. So how do we get past those feelings and learn to accept our fate with joy instead of remorse or guilt?

Survivor’s guilt is very common among survivors who’ve experienced traumatic events in their lives and cancer isn’t the only event that can bring these feelings to light. Wars, disasters, accidents or other types of illnesses are among life changing events that can stir up feelings of sadness or guilt for those who survive. Wondering why survival was possible for some and not for others can be overwhelming. Among those in the breast cancer community, survivor’s guilt is often more common because of the tightly knit sisterhood. I know this to be true in my own life.

When I was first diagnosed, I wanted to find others who shared the same diagnosis. I wanted to compare our stories and understand the reasons behind their treatment plans. It was difficult to understand why some doctors recommended one path of treatment and others chose a different route especially when we shared the exact diagnosis. It became even more difficult for me, when I learned of the death of some of those ladies earlier this year. I didn’t know much about survivor’s guilt at that time but felt devastated and remorseful over the fact that I was still living and they were not. In my quest for understanding my feelings, I began to research and found survivor’s guilt is a very real thing and it’s another part of the cancer journey that must be accepted and processed. Some survivors never experience survivor’s guilt and others are overwhelmed by it. I fell somewhere in the middle. I wondered why. Cancer is not a competition but curiously, I was comparing my course of treatment to others. I wondered if anyone else did the same. Sometimes, I wondered if perhaps, and I hate to admit this, I hadn’t suffered enough. I hadn’t needed to go through chemotherapy. I hadn’t lost my hair. My treatment plan was different from those I knew with the same diagnosis. They seemed to have suffered more. Where did this crazy feeling of comparison come from?

This weekend, I’ll celebrate my second anniversary of being in remission and while I’ve not been given the all clear by my oncologist, as far as we know right now, I have no evidence of disease. I hesitate to celebrate because I'm having a bone scan done on Friday and I won't know the results of that scan until later next week. What if...what if, something shows up? I want to celebrate freely and enjoy the fact that I’m still here and doing well but I can’t help but think of those who are not. How do we get past the feelings of guilt that come at times like these? The only way I have found to move forward is being able to share my feelings with others. Being able to talk about the feelings of guilt and sadness have helped me process them and accept the fate of others.

It has been challenging to learn it’s acceptable to feel okay about surviving. As I celebrate my cancerversary this year, I’m planning on remembering those who’ve passed away but I’m also going to focus on the beautiful gift of life ahead of me. I don’t want to let survivor’s guilt engulf me. The hard reality about breast cancer is that some will survive and others will not. None of us know which category we’ll fall into and none of us should feel guilty about survival. Survival is a basic human instinct. We all fight for it, we all deserve it and some of us even get to celebrate it.

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

Counting down the days

I have a calendar hanging on the inside door of my pantry. I purposely put it in an inconspicuous place so I wouldn't be tempted to look at it on a daily basis. For the past two years my calendar has been the daily time keeper of my life. Appointments dot the squares in bright red marker so I don't inadvertently miss one of them. Along with those important medical events, I've also squeezed in some happy family events like birthdays and anniversaries. The older I get the more I need to write down lest I forget and so, my calendar has become a treasured possession.

There are two important events coming up on my calendar. The first is a visit with my oncologist. That event takes place in exactly 7 days. I have many things to discuss with him including the discovery of two new lumps. My doctor is usually very attentive although he's very busy. I also want to discuss the possibility of scheduling a bone density scan. It's been over 10 years since I've had one and he mentioned my needing to have another done in the near future. I've been having a lot of hip joint and leg pain lately and I think it might be time to go ahead and get that scheduled. I'm also looking forward to finding out what my lab tests reveal. Dr. F is diligent about performing blood work on every visit. I'm curious to see if my leukocytes are elevated.

Another very important date on my calendar is the two year anniversary of my surgery. I'm calling it my cancerversary. When I passed the first year mark of having my cancer removed, I was too afraid to celebrate. I thought it was too soon and I didn't want to jinx a good thing so I waited. In exactly 16 days, I will have lived two years since having both breasts removed. I'm feeling like celebrating and look forward to a great time rejoicing with my family. We've planned a nice dinner at one of our local restaurants. There will be balloons and cake. We'll thank God for allowing me to live and it will be a grand celebration.

It's always good to have things to look forward to in your life. My calendar used to be my enemy but now it's become a dear friend. I'm thankful it helps me stay on track and keep an accurate record of my life.

© bonnie annis all rights reserved