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.

Bonnie Annis

Bonnie Annis is a breast cancer survivor, diagnosed in 2014 with stage 2b invasive ductal carcinoma with metastasis to the lymph nodes. Catch up on all of 

Time is a valuable commodity, but I never realized how valuable it was until after I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

I was about 8 years old when I learned to tell time. My elementary school teacher had a cardboard model of a clock with two red plastic hands. Every day, during class time, we’d listen as the teacher moved the hands and explained what each one did. The short hand was the hour hand, while the long hand was the minute hand. We’d watch in awe as she moved the hands around the clock to teach. After she’d done this for a week or two, she’d call students up and one by one, we’d have to tell the time according to how the hands were set by the teacher.

Learning how to read the hours was easy. Reading the minutes was more challenging. Finally, I got the hang of it and was so happy when my mother bought me a little Timex watch of my own. Throughout the day, I’d glance at my watch and see what time it was. Sometimes, the clock would stop, that’s when I knew it was time to wind it. Back then, watches and clocks were mechanical. Winding the spring inside them made them work. Now watches are much different with most of them battery-powered.

As I grew older, watches and clocks ran my life. As a typical type A personality, I hated being late for anything. In fact, I always strived to arrive at any destination at least 15 minutes early. But time then was just a manager, nothing more.

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, all that changed. I took off my watch and have not worn one for the past 10 years. Why do such a drastic thing? To be honest, cancer scared the bejesus out of me. I honestly thought, when I heard the words, “You have cancer,” that I was going to die before the end of that year. Thankfully, that was not the case, but to this day, I do my best to avoid looking at clocks and I no longer own any watches.

Cancer helped me realize the importance of time. I realized I’d been so locked into clock-watching for such a long time that it controlled me. Every day my schedule seemed to be packed. My watch would almost shout, “You have to hurry!”

I didn’t like that feeling and that’s why I took off my watch, never to wear one again. I knew the cancer clock was ticking, and I didn’t know how much time I had. I didn’t necessarily want more time; I just wanted enough time. I wanted time to see my children become parents. I wanted time to do all the things on my bucket list. I wanted time to watch more sunrises and sunsets. I wanted more time to enjoy life. And that’s when I began to become intentional about guarding my time and using it more wisely.

Each day when I rise, I thank God for the gift of another day. Since none of us are promised tomorrow, I’ve learned to look at each day as a present waiting to be opened. I never know what the day will hold, so it’s exciting to begin with an attitude of expectancy.

Throughout the day, I make a point of avoiding clock-glancing. Without paying attention to the clock, my day seems to last longer and I find myself slowing down. As I take the day minute by minute, I’ve learned to be present. Instead of thinking about what comes next, I can step into the here and now.

Of course, there are times when I must know what time it is – for example, if I have a doctor’s appointment I need to be on time, but for the most part, the clock and the power of time no longer exist in my life.

Cancer did its best to rob me of discovering the value of time by instilling great fear into my life, and fear caused me to become anxious. But as time went on, and I continued to defy the odds of my life expectancy with stage 2B invasive ductal carcinoma breast cancer, I found freedom from the constraints of time.

Cancer can be a thief. It can steal joy, instill fear and rob a person of valuable seconds, minutes and hours. But only if we let it. We have the power to choose.

Try a little experiment, try going a day without a watch or looking at a clock. See how it makes you feel. Did you find you felt untethered? You might not notice a big difference after only one day, so push it to two and if you like it, keep going! Unstrap that watch and avoid looking at that clock. You have the power. All you must do is make the choice to do it.

For more news on cancer updates, research and education, don’t forget to 

subscribe to CURE®’s newsletters here.

Articles

A breast cancer diagnosis profoundly altered the author's perception of time, shifting it from a mere manager to a precious commodity. Initially, time was strictly adhered to, with punctuality being paramount. However, the diagnosis prompted a reevaluation, leading to the removal of watches and a conscious effort to live in the present. This change fostered a deeper appreciation for life, emphasizing the importance of being intentional with time. The author encourages others to experience life without the constraints of time, suggesting it can lead to a more fulfilling existence.

I’ve learned to live in the present by avoiding clocks, a necessary change in my life after having breast cancer.  

Time, My Most Precious Gift After Breast Cancer 

In many cases, after a diagnosis of breast cancer, women choose to follow their doctor’s advice regarding treatment. But it seems over the past few years, more and more women are discovering their right to try other health care options. I am one of those women.

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, my doctor recommended the “gold standard” treatment plan, which included the top four items: surgery, chemotherapy, radiation and antihormone or adjuvant therapy. Since I was very new to cancer, I had no idea what treatment plan was best for me. On the way home from my oncologist’s office, I talked things over with my oldest daughter, who had accompanied me to my oncology visit. As a proponent of natural health care, she encouraged me to do some digging before making my final decision.

Over the next several weeks, I studied a lot. I didn’t want to disregard all my doctor's plans, but I wasn’t about to go forward blindly. I read everything I could find on each treatment option he recommended. I was especially concerned with information I found on side effects related to chemotherapy. Many of the side effects were irreversible, and I decided those risks were not something I was willing to accept for my body.

My doctor wasn’t happy when I told him I wasn’t willing to go through chemotherapy, and he wanted to know why I'd made that choice. I explained my reasons to him, and he basically said, “It’s your body. Do what you feel best for you.” And I did.

I felt radiation therapy was relatively safe since it had been used for years and years. I’d read radiation was first discovered in 1896 by German physics professor, Wilhelm Conrad Roentgen. His discovery led to the use of radiation in the form of X-rays, which helped diagnose various forms of disease, but it wasn’t until three years later that radiation therapy was used to treat cancer. Since that time, many advances have been made in radiation therapy, but there have been some negative discoveries which concerned me. Radiation was being widely used to help cure or to slow down cancer development, but the treatments themselves could also cause cancer.

When I met with the radiation oncologist for the first time, I asked her about this information. She assured me she’d do everything within her power to make sure I didn’t suffer any radiation-related cancers, but she couldn’t guarantee it. She was very open with me, and I appreciated that. She explained carefully that the linear accelerator, the machine that would be used to direct and administer the radiation to my body, would be carefully programmed according to her assessment of my specific needs. That gave me comfort to go ahead with the treatments. I was initially supposed to receive 33 radiation treatments with three boost therapy sessions at the end of my program. My oncologist, radiation oncologist and several other medical staff had met during a “tumor board” to discuss and plan my treatment before completing even one session. Though I wasn’t privy to the information they discussed during that meeting, I imagined they’d gone back and forth between themselves doing all they could to give me the best chance at a long life.

Before my first treatment, I met with the radiation team and went through a series of pre-treatment scenarios. They placed me on the table beneath the linear accelerator and did a simulation, so I’d know what to expect. They drew dots on my torso with a Sharpie pen to help line me up correctly before my first treatment so the laser beam would send the radiation to the exact quadrant every time. Eventually, they placed six permanent medical tattoos the size of a large pin head on my body. That way, I didn’t have to worry about accidentally washing the marker off and them having to reapply them during each session.

Thankfully, I only ended up needing 28 radiation sessions and did not need the boosts (extra strong rounds of radiation) afterwards. I did suffer severe burns halfway through treatment, but the doctor had warned me that was a possibility, and I was prepared for it. When my skin began to break down, the doctor stopped treatment for several weeks until I healed. I also suffered damage to the lower lobe of my right lung. Once again, I had been forewarned this could happen. The doctor said, at my first visit, no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t completely control the radiation’s path. It was a science and though they did the best they could, there was always a chance of organ damage. I was willing to take that risk to have a better chance of living without cancer.

I found a lot of good information in traditional Chinese medicine that included dietary changes that helped fight cancer. Those would be easy to do, so I adopted them first. Then, I spoke with a naturopath at my cancer treatment center. He helped me discover the value of vitamin and mineral supplements proven to fight cancer. I asked for his recommendation on reputable companies, and he gladly pointed me in the right direction. I was surprised, as we neared the end of our conversation, when he also recommended CBD. He’d done a lot of research in that area and though I knew medical marijuana was an option for people with stage 4 cancer, I didn’t know much more about cannabidiol. The naturopath explained medical marijuana was slightly different from the CBD products he was recommending. The ones he recommended, CBD, CBG and CBN contained traces of THC whereas medical marijuana contained higher doses and often provided users with a different experience, especially in pain management. These options, he explained, were part of integrative cancer care, a new and controversial way of treating patients with cancer.

After 10 years of following my own treatment plan, which included many of the things I’d read from books and absorbed from talks with the naturopath, I’m finding I’m not the lone ranger. Many women are making the choice to add secondary treatment options to their health care plan. Their choices are normally in addition to standard treatments but some women, like me, opt for traveling down the alternative health care road.

Most recently, famous model Elle MacPherson, shared on an interview that she’d disregarded her doctor’s advice after a cancer diagnosis. She’d made the choice, after learning all the negative aspects of chemotherapy treatment, to opt for integrative medicine and was happy for it. 

I had the love and support of family members when I chose my own treatment plan which included dietary changes, supplements, the use of CBD products, chiropractic care and various other forms of nontraditional care. Macpherson shared in her book, she did not. Her family was concerned about her choice and didn’t understand why she wasn’t going to go the conventional route.

As more and more well-known women, like actress Elle Macpherson, choose to speak out about alternative breast cancer treatment, regular folks like you and I take stock in what they’re sharing and get that little boost of confidence that says, “It’s okay to buck the system and choose your own road to recovery.”

One thing to remember though is that everyone must weigh their own situation. Not all breast cancer cases are alike. Always consult your doctor before making any decision regarding your health. I’ve found most doctors are willing to listen to the concerns of their patients. They may not always agree with them, but they’ll usually listen.

Women diagnosed with breast cancer are increasingly exploring alternative treatment options beyond conventional methods like surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation. Personal experiences, such as the author's, highlight the importance of informed decision-making and the potential benefits of integrative approaches, including dietary changes, supplements, and CBD products. Despite potential risks, some patients prioritize quality of life and personal beliefs over traditional protocols. Public figures like Elle MacPherson advocating for alternative treatments can inspire others to consider nontraditional paths. However, individual circumstances vary, and consulting healthcare professionals remains crucial.

After my breast cancer diagnosis, I decided to take a more active role in my treatment plan, opting for radiation therapy over chemotherapy due to concerns about side effects.

More Women Are Finding Their Voices After a Breast Cancer Diagnosis

Bonnie Annis is a breast cancer survivor, diagnosed in 2014 with stage 2b invasive ductal carcinoma with metastasis to the lymph nodes. Catch up on all of 

October is breast cancer awareness month, but many don’t know there’s another day of celebration called international flat day on Oct. 7. This day has been set as a day to commemorate choice.

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, one of my main concerns was what my physical appearance would look like after surgery. The surgeon and I discussed options. I was told I could have a lumpectomy (surgical removal of the tumor and abnormal breast tissue), but if I did, I’d have to have a mammogram every three months afterward.

If I didn’t want to do that, I could have a mastectomy (surgical removal of one or both breasts) which would hopefully remove all traces of cancer from my body. Another option would be a bilateral mastectomy which would remove the affected breast as well as the other one, that way, I wouldn’t be lopsided.

The last option was to remove both breasts and immediately undergo reconstruction. That was a lot to take in and although the doctor said I could take a week or two to mull it over, she subtly pushed me to do reconstruction by saying I’d still feel like a woman. That evening, I discussed my options with my husband. I told him about the “still feel like a woman” statement. Right after I’d repeated it, I got upset and wondered why I wouldn’t feel like a woman without breasts. I chose to remove both breasts without reconstructive surgery.

Months after making my decision, each time I’d visit the oncologist, she’d try to get me to reconsider surgery to rebuild my breasts. “We can take fat from your belly, a free tummy tuck! Or we can remove fat from your buttocks or another location.” As soon as the words slipped from her mouth, I followed up with a quick, “No, thanks!” I’d been through enough surgery and didn’t want to go through anymore.

But over the past 10 years, I must admit, I’ve wondered if I made the right decision. There are times I wish I’d made the choice to reconstruct. I’ve struggled to come to grips with going flat. When I’m home with family, it’s easy to dress without considering how I’m going to camouflage my breastlessness. But out in public, it’s challenging. Rarely do I go out without my prostheses on.

The other day my husband and I were out shopping. Instead of wearing a patterned shirt, which helps to camouflage my flat chest, I wore a solid color shirt. Beneath that, I wore a camisole with built-in breast forms. Before we left to go shopping, I looked at myself in the mirror. I thought I looked nice and normal. It’s funny how having a semblance of breasts makes me think and feel normal.

We got to the store and were walking down an aisle in the craft department. My husband came up close to me and leaned in toward my ear. In his deep voice, he said, “You need to fix your shirt.” I looked at him puzzled. I looked down at my chest and didn’t see anything that needed attention. He leaned back over and said, “You need to fix your boobs. One’s hanging lower than the other.” I literally cracked up in the middle of the store. I was laughing so hard I was almost crying. One hung low!

I hadn’t noticed my lopsidedness, but my husband had. I guess he thought he’d save me some embarrassment by alerting me to the disfigurement. I gave my camisole a little shift up on the left side and got myself fixed. Then, I turned to him and presented myself. “How do I look now?” He smiled and said, “Fine.”

We went on about our shopping and as soon as we got home, I took off the camisole with the built-in boobs. I asked if my lopsidedness bothered my sweet mate and he said, “No. I just wanted you to know you were off-kilter in case you saw someone you knew.” How sweet! He was trying to save me from embarrassment.

Most of my friends now know I’m a fraud. I pretend I have breasts when necessary and forego them when they’re not. I wish I could get to the point where I didn’t care about whether I had breasts, but I haven’t gotten there yet. You’d think, after a decade of not having breasts, I wouldn’t miss them, but I do. They were a part of me and as I’ve shared in past posts, my breasts made me feel feminine. Thankfully, I don’t struggle with that as much as I used to do. I guess the older I get, the less I care what others think.

One of these days I’m going to walk into a store, in a solid color blouse, without any prostheses and do a little test. I’m going to see if anyone notices that I’m flat.

I’m glad there’s a day devoted to celebrating the choice to be flat after breast cancer. Women, or men for that matter, shouldn’t be pushed into doing reconstructive surgery. Our bodies are our own and the choice doesn’t belong to anyone else. Living flat takes some getting used to but it’s also a bit of fun, too.

Earlier this summer, my husband and I were out hiking. We were deep in the woods, and it was so hot. Sweat was running down my back and my front. I took it as long as I could and then ripped off my shirt. It was 20 degrees cooler. Now I wouldn’t have done that if there had been others around, but it was just me, my husband and a few nosey deer. And it felt so good to be topless for a short time.

I hope others realize going flat is acceptable. I wish more doctors would present flatness with the same effort as they do reconstructive surgery. If they did, there might be a few more people who choose to go flat in the world. As it is, those of us who’ve chosen that route know we’re special. That’s why there’s an international flat day.

For more news on cancer updates, research and education, don’t forget to 

Choosing to go flat after a mastectomy is a personal decision that should be respected and celebrated, as highlighted by International Flat Day on October 7. The narrative underscores the societal and medical pressures to undergo reconstructive surgery, emphasizing the importance of autonomy in such decisions. The emotional journey of living without breasts is explored, revealing both challenges and moments of acceptance. The story advocates for greater awareness and acceptance of the choice to remain flat, encouraging healthcare professionals to present it as a viable option alongside reconstruction.

When I underwent surgery for breast cancer, reconstruction was highly recommended, but I decided to remain flat — a decision I think about sometimes. 

International Flat Day, a Breast Cancer Celebration 

October has become well known as Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Pink ribbons will soon flood the market as merchandisers take advantage of this well-known symbol and what it represents. As a breast cancer survivor, I’ve learned to navigate the annual sea of pink, but I don’t like it.

September just ended, can you believe it? I can't. I'm already bracing for impact. This is the time of year I hate most, not the end of September per se, but the beginning of October. Why do I hate October? Well, it's because this will be my 10th Pinktober.

Pinktober is a phrase that was coined when the Susan G. Komen Foundation made pink ribbons their world-famous logo. The ribbon was chosen to represent the founder's beloved sister who passed away from breast cancer. I'll have to admit, Pinktober is a cute name for Breast Cancer Awareness Month, but I don't like pink.

When I was a little girl, my Mom wanted to dress me up in frilly pink dresses, but I hated them. I wasn't a girly girl. I was a bonafide tomboy. Pink reminded me of Pepto Bismal, and that over-the-counter medication always made me think of illness. Whenever I had a stomachache, that was the go-to remedy.
To this day, I hate the color of Pepto Bismal.

I don't know why I have such an aversion to pink. It's probably because, in my mind, pink represents femininity, and I've never felt very feminine.

When most girls my age were watching their bosoms develop into those of young women, I remained flat as a board. When they wanted to play dress up or play with dolls, I wanted to be outside climbing trees. I always felt like there was something wrong with me. I didn't fit the mold of what a little girl should be — all dainty and cute. I was more of a ripped-jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. I was the one with unkempt hair and dirt under my nails. And speaking of nails, to this day I don't get manicures or pedicures. To me, they're a waste of time.

This past weekend, my husband and I came home from a week-long vacation. My son had invited us to join him in the mountains. He has a timeshare in North Carolina and knows how much getting out in nature means to me. We agreed to meet him at work and pick him up so we could travel together. It was going to be a great time of rest and relaxation. We were looking forward to it.

One day, we decided to go hiking. There were several waterfalls nearby. We loaded up the car and headed out. It was a gloriously beautiful day. The sun was shining, and it was a mild 72 degrees. When we got out of the car and headed for the trail, I noticed my son was wearing a T-shirt his company designed for breast cancer awareness. Across the back of his shirt was the name of his company, beneath that was an American flag with a bright pink breast cancer ribbon on the far right. Beneath that were the words "What's Important Now." The W, I and N were also in bright pink. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my son had worn that shirt to let me know he loved and cared about me. It was special to see he and his company wanted to be part of sharing the importance of breast cancer with others.

Pink breast cancer ribbons are on almost everything now, not just during the month of October, but that's when they're a little more visible.

I have to say, before my own diagnosis, I rarely paid attention to the pink ribbons. The first year after diagnosis, I wanted everything I saw that had a breast cancer ribbon on it. I purchased hats, T-shirts, purses, tennis shoes, you name it, I had it. Now, I don't want a thing with a pink ribbon on it. I guess you could say, after 10 years of being submerged in a sea of pink, I'm over it. At first, I swam hard in that sea. A few years later, I relaxed and floated lazily along. Now I'm treading water wondering if one day, I'll be thrust into the sea of pink again.

I don't like pink, as previously stated, and I especially don't like pink ribbons. Yes, they are a good thing in many ways: they make people stop and think about breast cancer or perhaps, remind them of someone dear they've loved and lost to the disease. Whatever the case, as I said in an 

 I wrote back in 2018, "One thing is for sure, that little pink ribbon is a symbol known all over the world. No words need to be spoken. The meaning is clear. Breast cancer can affect men, women, and even children. It touches the lives of all races and religions. Breast cancer is a nasty business and changes lives forever. And if we can make sure people understand that, while offering information on prevention and care, then I say, Brace yourself, the tide is rising, the water is gathering at your feet."

Pink makes you think, especially when it colors that famous ribbon. I pray this year, as you see them pop up, they'll remind you of two things:

1. The importance of breast self-exams and regular mammograms.

2. Not to forget that breast cancer isn't a respecter of persons. It can strike anywhere, anytime and may affect someone you love.

As a breast cancer survivor, I’ve learned to navigate the annual sea of pink, but I don’t like it. 

Bonnie Annis

Time, My Most Precious Gift After Breast Cancer

More Women Are Finding Their Voices After a Breast Cancer Diagnosis

International Flat Day, a Breast Cancer Celebration

Bracing for the Impact of Pinktober for Breast Cancer

Latest News