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. 

This year, I’ll be 68. As I realize that I may have more years behind me than ahead, I want to create a legacy for my children. One of the best ways I can achieve this is by helping them understand my life. There are so many things they don’t know about me.

I’ve started recording some of my childhood memories in hopes of helping them understand how I became the person I am today. As I relive these memories, they bring both smiles and tears. I’ve experienced many happier times than sad, and I certainly prefer that they remember the good things. However, to truly grasp how I arrived at this point in my life, I must also share the sorrowful times — and the most significant of those was my journey through breast cancer. 

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I wanted to document everything. I began writing a blog because I knew my children and grandchildren, being part of the digital age, would be more inclined to read an online journal rather than the paper ones I had previously kept. Day by day, I recorded my thoughts as I grappled with what cancer would mean for me. Writing turned out to be therapeutic, allowing me to process my feelings in ways I hadn’t expected. 

I took pictures whenever I went for tests or treatments. I wanted to provide my family with an accurate representation of my experience. I also aimed to prepare the female members of my family for news I hoped they would never have to hear. I wish I had received such a gift before I listened to the words, “You have cancer.” Sadly, the only person related to me who could have shared this was my mother-in-law, who belonged to a generation that kept these issues quiet. It wasn’t until she asked me to accompany her to a breast ultrasound that I truly understood the magnitude of what she was facing. Little did I know my personal journey would begin just a few years later. 

While cleaning out her house after her passing, I found one of her breast forms in the top drawer of a dresser. Holding it in my hands made me cry. My mother-in-law, a brave woman, never let on how devastated she felt after receiving her diagnosis. She didn’t discuss how Tamoxifen turned her into an emotional wreck; instead, she endured it and did her best to protect us from the ugliness of cancer. She was a kind and caring person. I know that if she had thought to do so, she would have recorded essential memories for my husband and me. Rather than writing them in a journal or documenting them online, she lived her life with cancer the best way she knew how. That was the beautiful legacy we will always cherish. 

I’ve tried to do the same with my life, but I’ve taken it a step further. I’ve chosen to document my cancer journey by participating in breast cancer awareness projects, joining walks, contributing to research, writing letters, participating in scientific studies, creating art, donating to cancer research, and doing my best to provide a sense of meaning and connection to future generations.

One of the main ways I’ve worked to provide a lasting cancer legacy is to make sure our family’s breast cancer history has been documented. I’ve also done my best to advocate for breast cancer testing.

Each year, as Breast Cancer Awareness Month rolls around, I push hard to remind my daughters to have their breasts checked. Being proactive in breast healthcare is a crucial part of the legacy I want to leave behind.

Another part of my breast cancer legacy involves fundraising. Each year, I participate in raising financial support for those who may otherwise be unable to afford medical testing. I’m especially concerned for female college students.

Breast cancer legacy projects can give a sense of value and purpose. They can also help determine what I can provide future generations. It’s so important to create a sense of hope during challenging times. Leaving a legacy is one way I can make a lasting impact on others.

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

Reflecting on the desire to leave a meaningful legacy, the narrative explores the author's journey through breast cancer and the importance of sharing personal experiences with family. By documenting her cancer journey through blogs, photos, and participation in awareness projects, she aims to provide her children with a comprehensive understanding of her life. The author emphasizes the significance of proactive breast healthcare and fundraising for medical testing, particularly for vulnerable groups. Her efforts underscore the value of creating a legacy that offers hope and connection to future generations.

Leaving a legacy is essential for many, especially for those who have faced cancer. We long for our friends and family to understand how cancer impacts our lives.  

Why Leaving a Breast Cancer Legacy Matters to Me

I love it when the seasons change, and the weather begins to cool down. I’ve found that the changing seasons affect both my energy and outlook. As the weather turns crisp and cool, I feel more energetic. During this time, I’m reminded I’m still alive and I’m grateful.

As I sat at my computer this morning, I gazed out over my wooded lot and marveled at the evidence of the changing seasons. Leaves on the trees are turning from a deep shade of green into various hues of orange, red, and brown. There is a brisk, cool breeze blowing and an air of anticipation in the wind. I can feel it. Autumn is here! My favorite time of year is when the mornings are cool, and the nights are scintillating. When fires in the fireplace and cups of hot chocolate are so very near, seasons — how I love them!

The Bible says, "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace." Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

This season of my life seems to be a time of change. I'm no longer in the Spring of my life, the time when I would have considered myself young and vibrant, thriving. Neither am I in the Summer of my life, a time when I would be constantly on the move, going and doing. No, I'm in the Autumn of my life. Things that were once green and alive are in the process of changing and dying, like the sloughing off of unneeded and unnecessary layers. The transformation, though painful, hasn't necessarily been a bad thing. In fact, I think it's been rather good. This Autumn of my life has forced me to see things in a different light. Instead of feeling helpless and hopeless, I feel a sense of eagerness at something new on the horizon. It’s just like Sam Cooke's song, "A Change is Gonna Come." I feel a change coming. Something will soon be different in me.

My life has been so rich and so full. For 68 years, I've lived every single day to the fullest. I've made goals and dreamed dreams. I've grown and changed many times. First from childhood into adolescence, then from adolescence into adulthood. I've enjoyed being a wife, a mother, and a friend. I've experienced life as it's come full circle. I've watched grandchildren be born and older family members die. There have been seasons of joy and pain, but one isn't complete without the other. Seasons. Life keeps going. Cancer has helped change me and continues to refine me. I'm no longer the person I used to be. I am different now, but in a good way. I’ve realized this one life I’ve been given is truly magical, and if I let one day slip by without savoring it, I’ve done it a great injustice.

The seasons of life are just as important as seasons in nature. Spring brings a time of renewal and growth. Summer is a time for basking and playing, enjoying life with wild abandon. Fall is a time for shedding negativity and sloughing off unmet expectations, dropping old hurts, bitterness, and unforgiveness. It's a time of letting go. And Winter is a time of rest and renewal as we wait for the seasons to circle around again.

As a cancer survivor, it’s important to remember that nothing stays the same. Seasons change, and so do we. Each season brings gifts of its own; we must look for and unwrap them.

The changing seasons serve as a metaphor for the author's life journey, particularly as a breast cancer survivor. The transition from summer to autumn symbolizes a shift from youthful vibrancy to a period of reflection and transformation. This phase, while challenging, is embraced as an opportunity for growth and renewal. The author reflects on the richness of life experiences, acknowledging the interplay of joy and pain. Emphasizing the importance of savoring each moment, the narrative underscores the inevitability of change and the unique gifts each life season offers.

The shift in seasons reminds me I’m alive, grateful, and still changing as a cancer survivor embracing life’s new chapters.

Changing Seasons Can Affect A Survivor’s Outlook After Cancer

Five letters in a three-word sentence was all it took to scare the Bejesus out of me. When I heard the doctor say, “You have cancer,” instantly I felt my life was over. It took days to process what she’d said. I didn’t want to believe it, surely, she was wrong, but she wasn’t. After I got over the initial shock of hearing the diagnosis, I got mad. I was not about to let cancer take my life. I had to fight back; I had to develop a game plan.

I began reading any and everything I could about cancer. I wanted to know what types of things caused the disease and how it was treated. Almost every book or internet source I read said the same thing – breast cancer required some type of surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation. After the big three were completed, to keep cancer at bay, antihormone therapy drugs were used for 5 to 10 years or for the rest of a person’s life. I knew I wasn’t willing to go that route. I had to find something different.

I knew so many friends who’d caved to the traditional treatment plan. Chemotherapy had decimated their bodies and had eventually helped lead to their demise. I’d watched as they wasted away from poisons pumped into their bodies. Instead of irradicating the disease, it stole every ounce of energy and life from these people. I wasn’t willing to try even one treatment.

Radiation scared me to death. As a child, I’d done a book report on the Hiroshima bombing. I can still see the images of men, women, and children running away from the blast site, torn skin hanging from their bodies, looks of terror on their faces as they realized radiation from the blast was going to take them out. Yes, that’s a dramatic example of radiation, but it put the fear of God into my life. Eventually, I came around and found the radiation used for treating cancer was vastly different. I decided I could endure weeks of fatigue, and some skin burns in exchange for dead cancer cells. My doctor prescribed thirty rounds of radiation with 3 strong boosts of it at the end of my treatment, but even with that, I decided how many would be enough. After 28 rounds, I knew in my heart it was time to quit.

Antihormone therapy didn’t go well. Although I wasn’t keen on the idea, I tried three different medications for short periods of time. Arimidex, Aromasin, and Femara made me feel horrible. I cried all the time, felt my body was that of an eighty-year-old, and my bones hurt so terribly I couldn’t take any of them for more than a week. Friends and family said I didn’t give it enough time, again, I knew in my heart this type of therapy wasn’t for me. There had to be a more natural way of fighting cancer, and I was determined to find it. With trepidation, I notified my oncologist that I’d decided not to go the traditional route of fighting cancer. She was skeptical and did her best to persuade me to reconsider. In my heart, I knew I had to do what was best for me. At least, I could try to fight cancer without destroying my body.

I began to study books on Chinese medicine. In 2009, I’d had an opportunity to visit that beautiful country and was intrigued by the health and longevity of the people I encountered there. In talking with some of them, I found out they relied heavily on plants for medical treatment along with other ancient practices like needling and meditation. As I contemplated various Asian medical treatments, I was intrigued but also a little skeptical.

I studied Ayurvedic medicine, too. I had friends from India and had listened to various conversations about treatments for illnesses. These were completely different from traditional forms of medical treatment. Ayurveda, the oldest medicine system of India, used drugs made from plants to prevent and suppress tumors. Its main goal was to find the ultimate cause of an illness. I liked that. While I didn’t understand everything that fell under the four categories of their health system- Prakritisthapani chikitsa (health maintenance), Rasayana chikitsa, (restoration of normal function), Roganashani chikitsa (disease cure) and Naishthiki chikitsa (spiritual approach) I did glean, from my reading, that various plants they used held potential toward fighting cancer.

Soon, my counters were covered in herbal supplements, essential oils, vitamins, and organic, powdered Matcha green tea. I had an arsenal of weapons at my disposal to fight cancer. I didn’t really know where or how to begin and I was scared to death the things I tried might not work, but I had to do something. The first few months of my alternative therapy plan required a lot of trial and error, but I managed to get into a rhythm. I developed a routine that was easy to implement each day.

When time for periodic blood work came, I was scared. I knew I’d done everything in my power to keep cancer at bay but had no measured way of proving it. The lab results would either show an elevation in my tumor marker, or it would not.

Thankfully, the tests gave good results. My doctor was pleased and said, “I was holding steady and what I was doing seemed to be working just fine.” I was elated to hear that news and left the office feeling more confident. I’d discovered a way to stand up to cancer!

It’s been over eleven years since I began my alternative therapy regimen. Over the years, I’ve whittled down the plan and streamlined it a bit. I still follow a mostly organic diet filled with fresh fruits and vegetables, but I also eat very lean, grass-fed protein. I drink lots of filtered water and matcha green tea. I avoid sugar as much as possible by replacing it with unfiltered honey or Stevia. I exercise each day and do my best to avoid all stress. Taking Ashwagandha each day helps immensely with that. I do a deep detox every month choosing to fast a few days and allow my body to rest. It probably would have been easier to pop pills full of chemicals for the next 5 or 10 years instead of following a lengthy health regimen, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

Today, I’m happy, healthy, and strong. I’ve moved from constant tests and procedures at the cancer treatment center to the coveted survivorship program. No longer do I describe myself by the three-letter title (N.E.D. – no evidence of disease) that many cling to, instead, I declare I’m healed. I survived! I stood up to cancer, slapped that stinking disease in the face, and showed it who was boss!

Standing up to cancer takes guts and determination. In each of us there is an innate desire to survive but that desire requires action on our part. If we’re not willing to buck the system and stand up for cancer in our own lives, who’s going to do it for us? It’s important to do your best and try.

Am I one of the lucky ones? Will my cancer ever return? I don’t know the answers to those questions, and I can't justify wasting time on them. What I do know is that what I’ve been doing has bought me eleven beautiful, healthy, productive years and I’m thankful for that.

“Alternative Cancer Treatment Requires Effort,” by Bonnie Annis. CURE. News release; May 2, 2018. https://www.curetoday.com/view/alternative-cancer-treatment-requires-effort

“Ayurveda and cancer,” by Dr. Roopesh Jain et al. Pharmacognosy Research. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3111701/

For more news on cancer updates, research and education, 

What does standing up to cancer mean to me? It meant I got to choose the terms of my fight instead of relinquishing that to an uncurable disease.  

Standing Up to Cancer and How I Do it

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

Introduction: When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was inundated with calls and messages from concerned family and friends. Not only was I overwhelmed with the news I had cancer, but I also felt pressed to keep everyone up to date. Blogging helped me disseminate news quickly and “download” it from my brain.

How does a person’s life go from being completely normal to being turned upside down in an instant? I’ve often pondered that question but that’s what happened to me in June 2014, when I went to see a doctor about a lump in my breast. That day profoundly impacted my life, and I knew I’d never be the same.

The day I left the doctor’s office; I made a decision to share my story publicly. Not only did I want to help myself, but I also wanted to help others. One of the best ways I could do that was to share my experiences openly and honestly so when I discovered blogging, I knew it would be a very effective tool.

I’d never heard of blogging until I began to do research the afternoon the doctor told me the lump was more than likely cancerous. She ordered a biopsy and sent me home for a couple of days. In between freaking out and trying to fathom what was coming, I scoured the internet. As I searched for information on breast cancer, I came across several firsthand accounts shared on platforms such as Blogger, WordPress, and Wix. Blogging was new to me. It was a type of online diary. I wondered how women could share such personal information in this way, but as I read, I got a clear picture. The women were dumbfounded and trying to make sense of a situation over which they had no control.

As I read, I discovered some blogs gave extensive detail about the person’s experience with cancer while others were more guarded. I wanted to write a blog but wanted to temper my posts. I wanted to give good information but not share too much. I wanted my posts to be informative and personal but didn’t want them to frighten people with unnecessary details.

I decided to write from the heart. I did my best to write the posts as if I were writing to a dear friend. I knew family and friends would read the posts but was also aware complete strangers would read them. That’s the part that gave me pause. Was I willing to tell my story to people I didn’t know? I wasn’t sure.

Building a blog was easy with built in online templates. I didn’t want to spend a lot of time worrying about designing the site, so I picked a platform that was simple and easy to understand. When I got the site built, it was time to write my first post. It was scary, exciting, and challenging all at the same time.

I’ve always kept a diary, but never an online one. Typing words was a lot faster than writing them in a paper journal, but I had to remind myself to carefully consider the words I was sharing. No longer would I be the only one to read them, many others would, too. The first post was about discovering the lump. As I relived that day, I was surprised by the emotions that surfaced. I found, as I blogged, I felt lighter after dumping out information I’d bottled up inside. Within a day or two, I’d gotten the hang of it and knew it would be cathartic.

Sharing personal information on a public platform can be very dangerous, too. I didn’t know my posts would allow readers to comment unless I turned off that option. The day I received a comment on my first post; I was surprised and hurt. The reader had berated me for sharing such detailed information about the discovery of the lump in my breast. Immediately, I went into the settings and turned on comment moderation. That option gave me the ability to see any comments before they were posted to the blog. If I didn’t like them, I could delete them.

The blog allowed me to quickly share information on tests and other procedures with my family. I thought they’d appreciate being kept up to date via my posts and photos. Most of them enjoyed reading the daily posts and would leave words of encouragement, but one family member told me I was giving TMI (too much information.) I took the “advice” with a grain of salt and kept going. I knew I was doing this for myself, and no one was being forced to read what I wrote.

Thankfully, many readers subscribed to the blog and would let me know how much they appreciated my candor. Several readers contacted me asking for permission to email and I’ve been able to communicate with them about their cancer experiences.

Breast cancer is a scary thing. Blogging can be a helpful tool to record feelings, experiences, and more. Some may choose to include photos while others do not. Some find using video blogging, VLOGS, a more convenient way of sharing news.

Not everyone will find blogging a venue they enjoy, but many will find it helpful. The decision to blog is very personal, as is every decision relating to a cancer diagnosis and life thereafter. If you’re considering starting a blog, it may be helpful to visit other breast cancer blogs to get information on the types of things people share and how to share them. 

Don’t feel pressured to share details of your cancer experience through an online blog or any other platform. Your experience is yours alone and only you can decide whether to allow others to be privy to details of your journey. Cancer doesn’t have to be public. It can remain private unless you choose to share it.

I have to say, after 11+ years of blogging, I’ve found it to be a very helpful way to process the disease of cancer. I don’t blog as much today as I did during the first years of my journey, but I do try to post several times a month and will more than likely continue this as long as I’m able.

Blogging can serve as a therapeutic outlet for individuals diagnosed with cancer, offering a platform to share personal experiences and connect with others. The author, a breast cancer survivor, found blogging to be a valuable tool for processing emotions and disseminating information to family and friends. While blogging can be cathartic, it also requires careful consideration of privacy and audience engagement. The decision to blog is deeply personal, and individuals should feel empowered to choose how much of their journey they wish to share publicly.

After my breast cancer diagnosis, blogging became a way to process emotions, share updates with loved ones, and connect with others facing similar journeys

Bonnie Annis

Why Leaving a Breast Cancer Legacy Matters to Me

Changing Seasons Can Affect A Survivor’s Outlook After Cancer

Standing Up to Cancer and How I Do it

Blogging is a Great Way to Chronicle a Breast Cancer Journey

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