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.

Recently, I watched a movie on the Angel Network called Breaking into Beautiful. It's the extraordinary story of Kim White, a young woman faced with a rare, aggressive form of cancer called adrenocortical carcinoma. It was both a heartbreaking and heartwarming story. As I watched the movie, I was dumbfounded at White's strength, courage, and determination. The movie documents her cancer fight through heartfelt videos and Instagram posts.

Throughout her 6-year battle, Kim never gave up hope. She did everything in her power to beat the disease, including agreeing to try clinical trials and risky surgical procedures. The movie was real and raw. That's what made me want to watch it.

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2014, the same year as Kim, I did my best to share what I was going through with family and friends. I felt it was important to present a true and accurate picture of what living life with cancer was like. I never wanted to hide what I was going through and though my cancer was very different from Kim's, I still faced many very challenging battles.

I wrote a book about my journey and was surprised when some family and friends criticized me for being too open about my struggles. They felt some of the things I shared should've been kept behind closed doors, but I chose to share those intimate details in hopes of helping someone else. I felt it incumbent upon myself to do that.

I don't find myself thinking much about cancer these days. It's been 11 years since the day I heard, "You have cancer," so it's not an integral part of my life anymore. I do, however, like to read books about survivors or watch movies that share their stories. It's been interesting to see how each individual chooses to face the challenge of fighting the disease. Some choose to give it all they've got, like Kim White did, and others resign themselves to the fact that they're going to die from the disease, so they don't put up much of a fight.

Personally, I don't understand how someone wouldn't want to do everything in their power to fight. In my experience, cancer can't touch an indomitable spirit. 

Faith was a key element in my battle and in Ms. White's. It seemed to be the secret key that powered our resolve. Knowing God and God alone knew the number of days allotted us, allowed us to come to a form of acceptance. In essence, whatever happened, whether we lived or died, was going to be okay.

Right now, as I sit in my office, there's a large whiteboard on the wall. On it, I record daily prayer needs. Currently, there are a dozen specific needs, each shared with me via phone, text, or social media. Of those twelve requests, 7 are for people struggling with different types of cancer. Most of those people fall into the 30–45-year-old age group, and that makes me so sad. It seems they're in the prime of life and should be enjoying life with sheer abandon instead of fighting diligently each day to survive.

Kim White only lived to be 32. She was a daughter, wife, and mother. In between her various treatments, the movie showed Kim's determination to grab every ounce of gusto she could from life. She wasn't about to just roll over and die.

As the movie covered her cancer journey, the physical devastation to her body became more and more evident, but each time she endured treatment, she seemed to rebound. During those times of recovery, she went hiking, rock climbing, snowboarding, and swimming. She was determined to squeeze every good moment out of every day she was given. In one scene of the movie, Kim is shown with a shorn head traveling down a slip and slide with her young daughter. Her frail body clings tightly to the love of her life as she squeals with glee. When I watched that scene, it did something to me. It made me realize, even on the best days of my life, when I'm not struggling with any health issues, I don't live like that.

Health is something many take for granted, and I'll admit, until I was diagnosed with cancer, I did the same. Cancer was a huge wake-up call for me. It made me realize life is short, and I never know when my number will be up.

Since watching the movie Breaking into Beautiful, I've been reminded I'd better get busy living. Instead of letting each day pass in the typical mundane way, I want to live like Kim with exuberance and joy. I've realized cancer can only steal from you what you let it. If you allow it to steal your joy and hope, you have nothing left.

I'm so thankful to still be here 11 years post-diagnosis. Kim only had six years of life after finding out she had cancer. In March, I go back to the cancer treatment center for my annual checkup. As I watch the day draw nearer and nearer on the calendar, I start to get this niggling feeling in the back of my mind: what if I face a recurrence? How would I respond to that news? I'd like to think I could be as determined and strong-willed as Kim was in her fight, but I'm not sure I would be.

My first (and hopefully last) go-round with cancer was difficult but not unbearable. Physically, I've pretty much recovered other than the challenge of lymphedema, an unexpected gift cancer left me after having lymph nodes removed. Mentally, I'm in a much better place now than I was 11 years ago, but there are still days I feel less than.

Spiritually, I feel like I'm stronger now than I was back then, and I can honestly say thank you to cancer for that, but it's been tough. No one can truly understand what it's like to fight cancer until they're in the midst of the battle, but watching real-life stories like Kim's can surely provide a heaping dose of reality. 

Kim lived a remarkable life, and her story will inspire many for years to come. I'm thankful she wanted to openly share her journey with the world. Who knows how many people, me included, will change the way they face each day because of her example.

This piece reflects the author’s personal experience and perspective as a breast cancer survivor. For medical advice, please consult your health care provider.

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Articles

Kim White's story, as depicted in the movie "Breaking into Beautiful," showcases her courageous battle with adrenocortical carcinoma, highlighting her resilience and determination to live life fully despite her diagnosis. Her journey, shared through personal videos and social media, serves as an inspiration to others facing similar challenges. The narrative emphasizes the importance of faith, hope, and the indomitable human spirit in the fight against cancer. It also reflects on the author's own experience with breast cancer, underscoring the transformative impact of such life-altering events.

Watching a true-life story about a woman’s battle with cancer has given me a new perspective on life. 

True Life Stories About Cancer Can Inspire Others

Normally, I’m not a negative person. In fact, I’m completely the opposite – a Pollyanna, always looking for the good in situations. That was the way I was long before cancer entered my life, but when I was diagnosed, things changed. I began to see little bits of negativity emerge.

When I was about halfway through radiation, my skin began to burn and peel. Little thoughts would creep in telling me I was going to be irreversibly scarred for life, that I wouldn’t be the same. I knew the surgical incisions would be with me forever and the radiation burns, too, but I wasn’t prepared for the mental scarring. A little voice started to tell me I wasn’t good enough, I was less than, and I started to listen. That was the first mistake. I should have known better.

Throughout recovery, I was bombarded with thoughts and emotions. I found myself focusing on problems and things I couldn’t do. I became frustrated and often found myself crying. I never said, “Woe is me,” out loud, though I felt like saying it. I wanted others to understand how I was feeling. I wanted them to grasp the overwhelming sadness of my situation, but who could understand looking in from the outside? The overwhelming feelings screamed, “It’s time for a pity party!” Guess who found herself going? Me.

The first pity party I attended didn’t last long. I shook it off and told myself I’d be okay. I thought I could handle it, but more invitations came – especially on days when I was tired or in physical pain. I quickly accepted the invitations and before I realized it, I was wallowing in a pit of despair, one so deep, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to climb out.

Instead of asking for help, I did some online research on ways to cope with feelings of hopelessness, doubt, and negativity. I found some good information and started to implement it.

The next time I felt down in the dumps and got an invitation, I decided to attend the party but only for a few minutes. I needed to validate my feelings, I thought, then I’d leave. It felt good to know I had the power to choose the length of time I attended. After realizing that, I found how easy it was to shift my focus to something else, so I didn’t focus solely on my health issues. I could journal or take a walk. I could find healthy ways of moving through feelings without getting stuck in a never-ending cycle of self-pity.

I realized I had the power to choose how I’d react when those whispers of “No one cares about you,” came and it felt good. It wasn’t easy at first. It took practice, but limiting the time I felt sorry for myself was a good beginning.

To this day, eleven years post-diagnosis, I still get invitations to pity parties. I won’t lie, sometimes I accept them readily. I’ll sit in my closet and cry over my breastlessness, or the terrible heaviness lymphedema causes in my limbs, but then I tell myself, “That’s enough! Be thankful you’re alive!” And when I hear myself saying those words, I shake myself out of it, dry my tears, and get busy doing something productive.

Pity parties aren’t healthy. They’re downright dangerous and if you stay too long, you’ll more than likely regret it.

Parties are supposed to be fun, not filled with sadness and regret. If you receive an invitation to a pity party, respond with a fast no thank you. Trust me, you’ll be glad you did.

Breast cancer can become a convenient excuse for many things, but please don’t let it extend invitations to pity parties. As a survivor, you’ve already proven you have the strength to overcome, don’t let whispered invitations to pity parties ruin that superpower.

A breast cancer survivor shares her journey of overcoming negativity and self-pity following her diagnosis. Initially, she struggled with feelings of inadequacy and despair, exacerbated by physical and emotional challenges during treatment. Through self-reflection and research, she learned to manage these emotions by limiting time spent dwelling on them and redirecting her focus to positive activities. Eleven years post-diagnosis, she acknowledges occasional lapses into self-pity but emphasizes the importance of gratitude and resilience. Her experience underscores the dangers of prolonged negativity and the power of choice in emotional responses.

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I never dreamed I’d learn so many valuable life lessons along the way. 

A Valuable Lesson I Learned While Living With Breast Cancer

Advertising is a great marketing tool for many companies, and we encounter them just about everywhere in our daily lives. Some use powerful and memorable taglines, while others don't. Either way, they are impactful, especially when they relate to health issues like cancer.

I'm not a big fan of television; in fact, I often feel it's a waste of time. When cable subscription prices soared, we decided to cut that expense years ago. When you’re on a fixed income, you must let some things go. Although we no longer have cable, we do subscribe to a few streaming services. We need some form of entertainment, especially when the weather's nasty and we can't get outside. We don't spend a lot of time watching, though; we prefer to read or work on our hobbies. But when we do choose to watch something, we watch late in the day as a way of unwinding before bed.

Last night, as we were watching a new outdoor adventure series, an ad popped up in the middle of the show. Normally, we don't pay attention to those. To get the benefit of a lower-cost streaming service, ads are part of the deal. When they come on, we mute them until our show returns. Sometimes, if we step away from the set, we'll miss being able to mute an ad and can hear it from another room. We've found commercials to be annoying because of the volume. I think advertisers must pay to have their ads sound elevated to draw viewers in, but I digress.

This ad wasn't annoying. In fact, as it played, I noticed beautiful piano music, and that's why I returned to see what was on the screen. As I watched, I saw a woman sitting in front of a piano. The camera focused on her hands as they worked across the keyboard. The next scene showed her gardening, and again, the hands were the focus. The commercial was brief but included various quick scenes that focused on hands: touching a child's face, washing dishes, peeling fruit, sliding along a soapy torso as the woman showered, holding her face in obvious distress, and lying alongside her body as she endured a sleepless night. Then the commercial showed the woman in a doctor's office. We see her unhook her bra, and a doctor standing in front of her. No words were spoken during the entire 60-second commercial, but any woman watching would have understood what was going on.

As the commercial wound to a close, the tagline scrolled across the screen: "The most powerful way to fight cancer is in your hands." Then, the Eli Lilly logo appeared. I knew Eli Lilly was a pharmaceutical company but wondered how many others would be aware of that fact.

My husband noticed how still I sat after viewing the commercial. He even paused our show to ask if I was okay. I assured him I was, but he could tell I was introspective. Seeing anything related to breast cancer is difficult, especially since I've “been there and done that.”

I wondered why a large pharmaceutical company would promote a campaign that encouraged early detection of breast cancer. My understanding of large drug companies was that they were in it for the money. The more drugs they sold, the fatter their pockets became, right? It seemed counterproductive to me.

Then, I wondered if perhaps they were a company genuinely concerned about women's health. Maybe, with ads like this one, they'd help make women aware of the need for early detection, even at the risk of emptying their own pockets a little. It would be great if that had been the motive behind the commercial; I just wasn't sure.

Eli Lilly produces a cancer-fighting drug called Verzenio. It's used in cases of high-risk cancers. I have several friends who've been diagnosed with triple-negative breast cancer, and they've been on this medication with some good success.

After doing a little research, I found the commercial first aired during the 67th Grammy Awards show. I used to watch the Grammys when we had cable but haven't seen it in a good while. It seems, after some internet digging, that over 5 million viewers watched the Grammys. Of those, I imagine the majority were women.

In thinking about the ad, I had to applaud Eli Lilly for taking such a huge risk. Their nonverbal ad had conveyed so much. Their slogan, or tagline, “The most powerful way to fight cancer is in your hands,” spoke volumes, even if not completely true.

Yes, women can use their hands to examine their breasts and hopefully pay attention to breast abnormalities or changes, but many times, they don't think a small lump or discharge is anything to worry about. In cases like these, they fail to report their findings to a doctor, which can lead to months or years passing without proper healthcare.

I think the tagline would have been more appropriately stated if it had said, “One of the most powerful ways to fight cancer is in your hands.” There are so many other ways men and women can combat breast cancer. Some of those include a healthy diet, daily exercise, reduction of stress, and quality rest. And while there are many factors we can control to a degree, there are also those we can't control, like hereditary traits, exposure to harmful chemicals, etc.

Hands are an important part of our bodies, and they are used in so many ways each day. It's a good thing to use them to become familiar with our bodies, and I'm thankful this big pharma organization has put forth the effort to remind women to use their hands wisely.

As a breast cancer survivor, I never chose to take chemotherapy drugs. I felt they would do more harm to my body than good. That was a very personal choice I thought long and hard about. Those who do choose to use chemicals to fight their cancer are doing what they feel is best in their own lives, and we can't judge them for their choices. I believe many women will do whatever necessary to live as long as possible, and when the Big C enters their lives, their perspective on things often changes.

One day, hopefully, we won't need chemotherapy drugs anymore, and commercials like the sensitive one the Lilly company put out will no longer be necessary. Until then, I hope other companies will follow suit and be as tenderhearted in their ads. Sometimes words are necessary, and sometimes, they're not.

Eli Lilly's recent advertisement, aired during the Grammy Awards, uses a nonverbal approach to emphasize the importance of early breast cancer detection. The ad features a series of scenes focusing on hands, culminating in the tagline, "The most powerful way to fight cancer is in your hands." This campaign raises questions about the motives of pharmaceutical companies, traditionally seen as profit-driven, in promoting health awareness. The ad's impact is significant, encouraging women to be proactive in monitoring their health, despite the complexities surrounding cancer prevention and treatment.

A subtle ad about breast cancer self-checks led me to reflect on my own experience and the complex role of pharmaceutical companies in awareness.

The Power of Suggestion in Breast Cancer Prevention

On my last oncology visit, my doctor said something odd as we were saying goodbye. She said, “Next year, I’ll move you into the survivorship program.” I didn’t have time to ask any questions because she was headed out the door to her next patient. On the way home, I asked my husband why he thought I had to wait another year to be considered a survivor. I’d been living cancer free for eleven years! That’s when I started asking myself what it takes to be declared cancer free.

After doing some online research, I found out some doctors may consider a person "cancer-free" after he/she achieves five years in complete remission. That means all signs and symptoms of cancer have disappeared, and there's no detectable cancer in the body. But some cancers can recur even after five years, so it's not a guarantee of being completely cured.

The terms regarding being cancer free can be confusing. Complete Remission means cancer can no longer be detected through scans and other tests, and all symptoms have disappeared. No Evidence of Disease or (NED) if often used interchangeably with "complete remission," and it means that there are currently no signs of cancer.

Some doctors use the five-year mark as the gold standard. In many cases of cancer, if the disease hasn’t returned within five years of initial diagnosis, the chance of recurrence becomes very slim. But even after five years of being cancer free, some cancers can still come back. This is called a recurrence. Instead of remaining cancer free, some dormant cancer cells in the body become active again. They may come back to the original cancer location or in a different part of the body and even if they do, they’re still considered breast cancer.

Even after a long period of remission, doctors may not definitively declare someone "cured" because they can't be 100% certain that all cancer cells have been eliminated.

I’ve never heard the words, “You’re cancer free or you’re in complete remission.” I’ve never been blessed to hear the words, “There’s no evidence of disease.” I didn’t start waiting to hear the words until I was five years out from diagnosis because I had read about the five-mark milestone, but gee, 11 years of living with no evidence of disease, no signs or symptoms, shouldn’t I be a prime candidate for being dubbed cancer free? I think so.

Whether or not I ever hear the words, “You’re cancer free,” I’m claiming it to be true. I’ve done all the things to make sure my body is healthy post diagnosis, and I’ll continue to make my health a priority, but I’m not going to live my life stressing about an official diagnosis that declares me cancer free. In my heart I know it’s true. How do I know it? Well, it has a lot to do with my personal faith. Faith has carried me through every aspect of my cancer journey and I’m a firm believer that my trial is now over.

Cancer free, remission, no evidence of disease, all those professional terms sound good but I prefer to say I’ve been healed of an awful disease. I’m one of the lucky ones.

In the United States, a woman’s lifetime risk of being diagnosed with invasive breast cancer has increased since 1975. Then it was 1 in 11 women, today it’s 1 in 8. Older women are more likely to be diagnosed than younger women. Those are scary odds when you think about it. That’s why I’m doing everything in my power to make sure my daughters and granddaughters are proactive about their breast health. For those old enough to get mammograms, I remind them annually to do it. For the younger ones, I encourage their mothers to teach them how to do breast self-exams by the time they become teens. Knowing what your breasts feel like can help a young woman become familiar with her breasts and alert her to something that feels odd or different.

As breast cancer survivors, it’s our responsibility to celebrate each year of survivorship but it’s also our responsibility to share our knowledge with other women. By sharing our experiences, we can help breast cancer become less fearful to the undiagnosed and encourage the diagnosed to hold on to hope.

Eleven years with no cancer signs or symptoms – I’m claiming I’m cancer free and this year, on my cancerversary, July 9, I’m going to celebrate bigger than I ever have before. The doctor may not say I’m completely cancer free, but I think I am and I’m going to live like it. No one is going to rob me of that joy.

Living cancer-free for eleven years, the author reflects on the complexities of being declared "cancer-free" or in "complete remission." Despite the absence of cancer signs or symptoms, the author emphasizes personal faith and proactive health measures over official medical declarations. The narrative underscores the importance of breast cancer awareness and education, particularly for younger generations. The author celebrates survivorship and encourages sharing experiences to reduce fear and inspire hope among those affected by breast cancer, while acknowledging the evolving nature of cancer diagnosis and recurrence.

After eleven 11 of survivorship, I’ve been waiting to hear the words, “You’re completely free of cancer! Go in peace,” but I’m wondering if it ever will happen. 

Bonnie Annis

True Life Stories About Cancer Can Inspire Others

A Valuable Lesson I Learned While Living With Breast Cancer

The Power of Suggestion in Breast Cancer Prevention

What Does It Take to Be Declared Cancer Free After Breast Cancer?

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