Bonnie Annis

Bonnie Annis is a breast cancer survivor, diagnosed in 2014 with stage 2b invasive ductal carcinoma with metastasis to the lymph nodes. She is an avid photographer, freelance writer/blogger, wife, mother and grandmother.

The email almost slipped through the cracks of my inbox, but something in the header caught my attention: “You've been invited to attend a virtual walk for breast cancer.” “Virtual walk, yeah, right,” I thought, “Everything has suddenly turned virtual because of this pandemic.”

As the calendar neared the end of September, what I knew was coming had arrived a little earlier than last year. My inbox quickly filled with breast cancer awareness messages in preparation for this October, or should I say “Pinktober?”

Until I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I'd always thought of October as the month ushering in cooler weather. My family and I would enjoy all things fall-related — hayrides, hiking, trips to the mountains, pumpkin farms, mugs of steamy hot cocoa, cozy thick sweaters, and roasting marshmallows over an outdoor firepit. October didn't remind me of breast cancer, that is, until that fateful day in 2014 when I'd heard my doctor dub me a statistic. I was one of the one in eight women who’d be diagnosed with breast cancer in her lifetime.

My first Pinktober was fun. I embraced it wholeheartedly. I bought into the commercialism of pink ribbons and found myself enveloped in it. It felt good to sport my breast cancer hoodie. I enjoyed drinking coffee from my pink ribboned mug. It felt like I was part of a special sorority, how naive I was back then. But lots of newbies make the same mistake. It's only natural to be all in. Doing so can make a person feel she matters especially when cancer can make a person feel so isolated and alone.

I'd also participated in a 5K walk for breast cancer. It had been a challenge, in more ways than one. Physically, I fought for each step forward. I'd just completed 28 rounds of radiation and that 3.1 mile walk just about did me in, but I made it and I was extremely proud of myself. Emotionally, I was a basket case. I wasn’t sure about my future. I was afraid I was going to die.

But the next October that rolled around, I passed up the races. I wasn't keen on buying pink ribboned products. I'd done research and had found some organizations didn't allocate funds appropriately. My findings indicated more money was going toward administrative fees than toward breast cancer research and that made me angry.

Then, I discovered a “tell it like it is” website called "Think Before You Pink." It presented the harsh reality behind some breast cancer campaigns and organizations. The goal of the site wasn't to demean those companies but to inform the undereducated and debunk misinformation. I appreciated their devotion and found the information helpful.

This October, the big breast cancer awareness push will still be on, albeit differently. Because of the COVID-19 pandemic, many cities are opting for virtual walks and rallies. Participants can register and keep a record of miles walked then submit totals at the end of the race period. The logged miles will be counted toward fundraising goals. Monetary submissions can be solicited through websites. Contactless collections will help prevent the spread of disease, or so they say.

While it would be easier to participate in a virtual walk, doing it "my way," I don't think I will and here's why.

Instead of having friends and family sponsor the number of miles I may walk, I'd rather use the money toward helping provide gift cards for meals or offer financial assistance toward outstanding medical bills for friends currently fighting cancer right now.

Forgive my negative attitude toward breast cancer walks- real or virtual. This survivor is over it. October is more than pink ribbons.

I do appreciate the awareness "Pinktober" brings toward breast cancer, but let's get real. The beribboned pink paraphernalia lines many pockets but it doesn't do much for providing new means of fighting cancer.

Cancer is ugly and trying to tie it up with a pretty pink bow can't change that.

Those affected by cancer want more. We want answers and we desperately want a cure.

A virtual walk may prove to be a good thing for those wishing to participate this year. There may be some cities that organize actual walks for mask-laden participants, but I won't be among them.

What I will do is make phone calls, write letters, send texts, and make visits expressing my love and concern for friends like Jack and Jen who've just learned about an uncertain future. I'll make myself available and I won't be throwing any pink ribbons around in the process.

Call me cynical if you must, but I'd rather be truthful about a disease that continues to destroy lives.

Pink ribbons can't change statistics, but maybe one day something more substantial will.

Articles

Every October, pink ribbons pop up as a symbol of breast cancer awareness. This year, marketing strategies have changed due to the COVID-19 pandemic. One survivor offers some insight on those changes. 

October is About More Than Pink Ribbons

A cancer diagnosis can cause a person to feel a wide range of emotions like fear, anger, shock, dread, grief, or loss. Often those emotions come suddenly like a crazy whirlwind and other times, they sneak up quietly, one by one. No matter how they come, all of them are normal.

I remember sitting in the doctor’s office after my diagnosis hearing her speak but being unable to process her words. They came in cartoonish fashion and sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher, from Charles Shultz classic comic series, “Peanuts.” All I could hear was, “Waa wa wa waa, wa waaa wa waa.” Nothing made sense.

The words, “You have breast cancer,” can feel like being handed an instant death sentence, but though it feels that way, it isn’t necessarily a fact. Breast cancer is a highly treatable disease.

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer six years ago, I learned a lot. And, I’d like to share some of the most practical information in hopes of helping others.

Breast cancer isn’t usually a medical emergency. That means there’s usually plenty of time to process information and emotions. Give yourself space and grace. There’s no reason to rush into making decisions. You have time to think.

It’s a good idea to enlist the help of a trusted family member or friend. You’ll be receiving a lot of medical information and it’s a good idea to have someone accompany you to appointments. The person who joins you can jot down notes and vital information. This will allow you to be present in the moment without worrying about details.

You’re not alone. While it may feel like you’ve been thrust into a battle you weren’t expecting to fight, you won’t be the only soldier on the field. Your medical team will want you to be well informed. Their goal is for a good outcome.

At some point in the early stages of your care, you’ll be assigned a nurse navigator. The nurse navigator can help provide answers to questions you may feel uncomfortable posing to your doctor. The nurse navigator will also help keep you stay on top of upcoming appointments. This person will become your advocate. Learn to trust and rely on them. No question or concern is too insignificant. They’ve heard it all before, so ask away.

You’ll also have a tumor board. A tumor board is a group of doctors who collaborate on your individual case. They work together to coordinate your treatment and care. It may feel odd knowing you’re being discussed on a regular basis, but by working together, they can ensure you receive the very best care.

It’s OK to cry. Cancer is a scary word, and everything associated with cancer carries a feeling of uncertainty. Give yourself permission to cry and don’t be afraid to let others see your emotions.

Hit something! Get angry if you must. Anger is a powerful emotion and one many try to control, but in situations like receiving devastating health news, it’s acceptable to express frustration and anger. Anger won’t solve any problems but sometimes, those feelings can allow a person to process information and move forward.

Tell others about your diagnosis when you’re ready. A cancer diagnosis is personal. The diagnosis will undoubtedly cause you to feel emotional pain and shock. It will more than likely have the same effect on your loved ones. Adjusting to the news takes time. Communicate the information to others when you’re strong enough and do it on your terms.

Find your people and build your tribe. You may or may not have an emotional support team in immediate family members. Sometimes it’s necessary to reach outside your family unit and rely on a trusted friend(s). Look for those who are attentive and optimistic. Positivity will be beneficial to your recovery.

You may find new friends through a breast cancer Facebook group or other online support groups. Community will be a vital part of your healing process.

Communication is key. Talking about cancer during the initial phase of diagnosis will be challenging, but necessary. You’ll need a confidant to share thoughts, feelings, and fears with, but you’ll also need someone who is non-judgmental and understanding. You have the power to choose when and if you want to share information. Some people find it helpful to set up a website for sharing information with multiple people easily. 

 is a free website many have found helpful. Don’t feel pressured to share publicly, but if you choose to do so, do it your way.

Don’t believe everything you read or hear. It’s easy to fall prey to information overload. Be careful! One of the first traps many newly diagnosed patients experience is a need to know. As soon as you find yourself near that slippery slope, pull back! There’s so much information on the internet, in books, and from survivors it’s easy to be overcome with details. Most doctors’ offices or treatment centers provide helpful, documented information to aid in guiding you through treatment options. If they don’t offer reading material, ask for it. Or check reputable websites.

There are also several very good books with helpful information: 

Remember, knowledge is power. The more information you have about your disease, the less power it has over you.

When in doubt, speak out! If information is unclear, ask questions. The doctor and medical team work for you. You have a right to clear, concise answers.

Remember, you’re only human. From the day of diagnosis forward, you’ll be required to make decision after decision. Some of them will be small and others large. Some will be required immediately, and others will not. All these decisions can bring about feelings of stress. An unknown future can be frightening, but there are more people surviving breast cancer today than in the past.

The best piece of advice I can offer is to cling to hope. That’s what’s helped me the most along with choosing to live one day at a time.

“Sometimes even to live is an act of courage.” ― Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Remember, knowledge is power. The more information you have about your cancer, the less power it has over you.

Practical Tips for People Newly Diagnosed with Cancer

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, my world seemed to crumble in a matter of seconds. As a person used to having complete control over most of my life situations, suddenly, I had none.

The breast specialist sent me to a breast surgeon who went into detail about my disease, treatment plan, and possible future. While we talked, I listened intently, making mental notes. When it came time to discuss treatment options, I became easily overwhelmed with the number of decisions before me.

The doctor wanted to make sure I understood risks associated with each portion of the plan. While I was thankful that she was astute, I wished she hadn’t shared so much information.

When we talked about chemotherapy, she asked what I knew about it. I only knew what I’d heard others share. They’d talked about extreme fatigue, nausea, peripheral neuropathy, and hair loss. She asked if I was worried about any of those side effects and I squirmed in my seat. I was afraid of losing my crowning glory the most. It seemed petty and trite to mention my concern over the possibility of losing my locks, but I told the truth. I feared going bald.

I was surprised at the doctor’s reaction to my statement. She smiled and said, “No worries!” I thought, “That’s easy for you to say, it’s not your head.” She went on to explain there were new medical implements that helped prevent baldness, like a special cooling cap I could try. I listened as she continued, “There are no guarantees, but if you do find yourself losing hair, you can always use Minoxidil, a hair restoration product.”

Leaving her office that day overladen with facts and information, I decided to become proactive. I would cut my hair before cancer had a chance to take it and I’d buy some Minoxidil to keep on hand, just in case. I also decided to order a wig or two. A Dolly Parton wig catalog had come in the mail a few days earlier. I’d seen some cute ones there. I’d opt for one short wig and one long one. Afterall, if Dolly could do it, so could I.

A week before bilateral mastectomies, I had my hair cut into a short pixie and donated my hair to Locks of Love. For some strange reason, I felt less cancerous with the new look. I rationalized if I lost my hair to cancer treatment, at least the locks would be shorter and not make such a mess.

After the haircut, I stopped by the drugstore and bought two bottles of Minoxidil. When I slipped the bottles on the counter at checkout, I heard someone behind me whisper, “Vanity thy name is woman.”

As it turned out; I chose to forego chemotherapy. My decision was based on information from the Oncotype DX report and after researching potential damage chemotherapy could pose to vital organs.

So, I’d cut my hair for nothing and had spent money unnecessarily.

Today, a bottle of Minoxidil sits on the bathroom counter. My husband left it there. The other day I told him his hair had started to thin. I pulled out the hair serum from beneath the cabinet and handed it to him thinking it couldn’t hurt and it would be great if it helped.

Sometimes, hearing you have cancer can affect a person’s behavior in odd ways. While many choose to become proactive, others become reactive.

Immediately after diagnosis, I also met with a lawyer to draw up my last will and testament. I thought I was doing my family a favor by thinking ahead and preparing for the worst, but chances are, I’ll outlive them all.

I still sign up for breast cancer walks and fundraisers. I wear my survivor gear proudly. And I’m still learning to be present in the moment while I plan my tomorrows.

But recently, I’ve noticed I seem to be shedding. There seems to be more of my shoulder length hair in the bottom of the shower than there used to be, but I’m not too worried. I’ve got wigs in the closet and if worse comes to worse, I’ll pull them out.

I don’t know why I’m so preoccupied with hair, but I’ve always wondered what I’d look like bald. With my luck, I would be one of the ones with an ugly, mishappen head.

Six years have passed since my meeting with the breast surgeon and cancer reminders seem to be everywhere but living on bonus time reminds me of how very differently things could have gone.

I’ve already warned my family, if I decide to act a little crazy in the future, don’t worry. I’ve got a good excuse. I can always blame it on the cancer. It’s a good excuse, sometimes.

Cancer Can Affect A Person’s Behavior in Odd Ways

Six years have passed since I was diagnosed with breast cancer. During that time, I’ve finally realized it’s OK to grieve the loss of my breasts and all things pertaining to life before cancer.

Many people, upon hearing the word grief, immediately associate the emotion with bereavement. It seems acceptable in our world to grieve the loss of a loved one, but unheard of to grieve the loss of body parts.

Often, life changes can stimulate grieving. In my case, breast cancer was the ultimate life change.

At first, I didn’t realize I was grieving. I assumed those feelings of sadness were part of the journey. I didn’t associate those feelings with grief. It was not until I read about the range of emotions others with cancer faced that I understood it’s OK to grieve. Everything I read said grief was a natural part of the healing process.

In high school, one of our required assignments was to read “On Death and Dying” by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. In her research, Kübler-Ross identified five stages of grief that apply to any major loss in a person’s life:

The first stage, denial, helped a person deal with emotional pain from big life changes. Like the valve on a pressure cooker, denial tempers emotions and prevents them from becoming overwhelming. Anger helped a person work through feelings by providing a form of emotional release. Bargaining came when someone tried to cope with a situation beyond their control and tried to find ways of handling feelings of helplessness. The next step, guilt or depression, came as a person began to understand the gravity of the situation and acceptance came when a person no longer resisted the inevitable.

However, the stages of grief don’t always come in order, especially with a disease like cancer. Often a person will jump from stage to stage and then back again. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve. Everyone grieves in their own way and in their own time.A person may grieve for days, weeks or years. All of these are perfectly normal.

With breast cancer, waves of grief may come immediately after diagnosis, much later after surgery, or anytime in between.

To this day, I’ll look in the mirror at my scars. They remind me of all I’ve experienced over the past six years. At times, I feel like a strong survivor. Other times, I feel the heaviness of deep sorrow over losing parts of my body. When I feel that overpowering sense of grief, I remind myself it’s OK to grieve.

Death and dying are part of life. The Bible says, “It’s appointed unto man once to die…” Even if I’d never received a diagnosis of breast cancer, I’d eventually die from some malady. Thankfully, I’m still alive.

“It's only when we truly know and understand that we have a limited time on Earth - and that we have no way of knowing when our time is up, we will then begin to live each day to the fullest, as if it was the only one we had.”

A cancer diagnosis isn’t always a death sentence even though that’s often the first thought of the one receiving the news. Facing the loss of body parts can often be easier to accept than losing faith in our body.

Coping with loss is challenging but hopefully, you’ll find a way to process your feelings and move on. There are several helpful ways to accomplish this:

Acknowledge your feelings – Give yourself permission to feel what you’re feeling. It’s a very personal experience.

Give your feelings place – Honor your feelings. Accept them for what they are and be OK with experiencing them fully.

Write it down – If you’re unable to verbally express your feelings, journaling may help.

Get plenty of rest – Pay attention to your body. A well-rested body is less likely to become overly emotional.

Pay attention to triggers – There are certain things that may trigger feelings of grief. Memories of cancer-related milestones can be among the most challenging.

Accept your new normal – Be gentle with yourself and give yourself time to adapt to change.

Grief can be filled with ups and downs. It takes courage to work through the gamut of emotions that come with a cancer diagnosis.

“It has been said that time heals all wounds. The truth is that time does not heal anything. It merely passes. It is what we do during the passing of time that helps or hinders the healing process,” said Jay Marshall.

It seems acceptable in our world to grieve the loss of a loved one, but unheard of to grieve the loss of body parts.

Author | Bonnie Annis

October is About More Than Pink Ribbons

Practical Tips for People Newly Diagnosed with Cancer

Cancer Can Affect A Person’s Behavior in Odd Ways

It’s OK to Grieve the Loss of My Breasts to Cancer