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 has been flying by! As I turn to the new month on my calendar, I see several medical appointments jotted in red. Most of those are routine visits, but there’s one I’m dreading — my annual visit to the cancer treatment center. This will be my 11th visit, and since I’ve been going there, I’ve had four different oncologists. Each time I’d get familiar with one, they’d transfer to another medical facility. It was challenging and often left me feeling unsure about my care, but the center is well-staffed, and I knew they’d assign me to another great doctor, so I didn’t worry much. This time I’ll meet another new doctor. Hopefully, she’ll stick around for a while!

Throughout the year, I barely give a thought to cancer except in the month of October when breast cancer awareness is prevalent due to all the commercialism. During the other months, I go about my life doing the things I enjoy, but sometimes, especially when I have an odd pain, a little thought pops into my head, “What if it’s cancer?” Most recently, this happened during a follow-up visit for hiatal hernia repair surgery. During an endoscopy, the doctor told me he found several growths in my stomach and wanted to biopsy them. The first emotion I felt was fear. I’d never known anyone with stomach cancer before; what if it was cancer? I couldn’t help wondering what I’d do if the biopsies came back positive. I wondered, “Would I take chemotherapy this time?” “Would I survive another cancer?” As those thoughts kept bombarding my brain, I had to give myself a reality check. I needed to be present instead of worrying about the future. I started to have a conversation with myself — a little positive self-talk — “You’ll be okay! There’s no reason to worry about what might be. Worrying doesn’t change anything.” Telling myself those things helped me get past that moment of fear, and I was glad.

Fear of recurrence is normal for cancer survivors. Living past diagnosis allows a person to experience hope, but there are those who will experience anxiety due to the trauma of the first bout with cancer.

I always thought I could trust my body. It had never let me down for any length of time before cancer. Oh, I had some small surgeries and illnesses but knew those weren’t life-threatening. Cancer was vastly different. When I was told I had cancer, instantly I knew it was serious, and I could die.

The first year or two after diagnosis, I felt I was walking on eggshells. I thought any moment; I’d get news that the cancer hadn’t been irradicated by surgery and radiation. I prepared for the worst but hoped for the best. Then, when I passed the five-year mark, I started to relax and breathe a little. I’d heard 5 was the magic number for breast cancer survivors. If you made it that far, chances were you’d be okay. I didn’t quite believe that though. I knew someone who’d been cancer-free for twenty-two years before her cancer came back, and I couldn’t help but think how devastating that would be.

When I passed the 10-year mark, I really let out a sigh. I told my husband and my children I was cured. Saying it out loud helped me believe it to be so. I wanted it to be true, with all my heart, I wanted it. And that’s when I began to wonder…if I’ve been cancer-free for eleven years now, why do I have to keep going back for annual checkups? Will I ever be completely discharged from care?

On my most recent visit to the endocrinologist, she told me I was due for another bone scan. I’m getting close to 70, and she likes me to have one every few years because of severe osteoporosis. She asked when I’d be going back to the cancer treatment center, and I told her I had an upcoming appointment. She asked me if the oncologist didn’t order a DEXA scan to let her know, and she’d order it. The concern in her voice triggered me. Once again, I began to wonder how I’d react to hearing the news that cancer had returned. As I left her office, I told my husband about her statement. He told me not to worry about it. “Just take one day at a time,” he said. “You can’t worry about tomorrow.” And I know he’s right.

Hopefully, when I step into the cancer treatment center on Wednesday, I won’t freak out. Normally, when I walk down the halls and see scores of people in various forms of treatment, I get triggered. I don’t like seeing bald, gaunt women holding on to IV poles as they shuffle slowly past. I feel guilty when our eyes meet, and I see the “I wish I was as healthy as you” look in their eyes. When that happens, I do my best to offer the sweetest smile I can muster and say something kind to them.

Sometimes I think cancer has caused me to hyperfocus on my body. Any new ache or pain can bring about thoughts of recurrence. I don’t know if I have it or if it even exists, but I assume I have a form of medical PTSD thanks to cancer. At least I’m more aware of that possibility now, and I try to find things that occupy my mind. Art has become my go-to when I feel anxious or concerned about the possibility of recurrence. Doing something special for me each day helps push negative thoughts away.

Thoughts of recurrence have waned over the years, but every now and then, they’ll pop up, especially when I hear of a friend who’s been newly diagnosed or when I see some commercial on TV about a new cancer drug. Maybe one of these days, I won’t pay attention to cancer at all. I’d sure like that day to come, and I know many others would, too.

There are so many things in our lives we can’t control. I’m learning to accept that I can’t control my body any more than I can control time. I can control my attitude, though, and I’ve chosen to look for the positive in the negative. By doing that, I feel a little stronger each day.

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

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Cancer survivors often grapple with the fear of recurrence, a common anxiety stemming from their initial diagnosis and treatment experiences. This fear can be triggered by routine medical appointments, new symptoms, or reminders of cancer in daily life. Survivors may experience a form of medical PTSD, leading to hyperawareness of bodily changes. Coping strategies, such as positive self-talk and engaging in hobbies, can help manage these anxieties. Ultimately, survivors strive to focus on the present and maintain a positive outlook, despite the uncertainties surrounding their health.

Even after many cancer-free years, the fear of recurrence still lingers, and many long-term survivors struggle to keep those thoughts at bay. 

Survivors of Breast Cancer May Still Struggle with Fear of Recurrence

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 

The year is flying by and soon Summer will be here. In the South, that means scorching temperatures. Those warm days can cause challenges for those with lymphedema. In this article, read how Bonnie Annis prepares each year to beat the heat and reduce lymphatic swelling.

I live in the deep South and have for my entire life. When I was a child, Summers never bothered me. I ran around in sleeveless tops, shorts, and rarely wore shoes. I even grew up without air conditioning, which was a challenge, especially in the evenings when I was exhausted and longed for a comfortable sleep. An attic fan and open windows helped cool down our house some, but not enough.

As I grew older, I learned the best times to be outdoors during the Summer months. I’d rise early and get my work done. During the hottest parts of the day, I’d stay indoors in the wonderful air conditioning. As they day ended, and the temperatures lowered, I could venture outdoors to do some gardening or other outdoor chores.

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, Summer had just begun. The stifling Georgia heat was just cranking up. I spent the first month after surgery either in a doctor’s well air-conditioned office, or at home resting in my own cool home. Nothing seemed to bother me until about a month after surgery.

About midday, I noticed some swelling. Reaching out to the doctor who’d performed my surgery, I explained my concerns. She asked me to come in for a post-surgical checkup and after examining me said I’d developed lymphedema. Although I’d heard of it before, I wasn’t quite sure what it meant. I asked questions and she gladly answered them before recommending I see a therapist certified in manual lymphatic drainage. She said when she’d removed lymph nodes from my arms after removing both my breasts, my lymphatic system had suffered.

I saw the therapist for 6 weeks. On each visit, she’d massage my arms for about an hour, working on one and then the other. She explained the massage would encourage excess fluid to flow upwards toward my heart if she started at my fingertips first. Then, it would travel through the “railway like” lymphatic system where it could be expelled. After the massages, she’d wrap my arms with compression bandages. I’d go home looking like a mummy, but admittedly, my arms felt better.

When my insurance coverage for these treatments expired, the doctor prescribed compression sleeves to help with the swelling. They were expensive, but insurance covered a good portion of the cost and allowed me to get 4 pairs a year. I found an online company that offered pretty patterns and bought the sleeves, but they were challenging to put on because they were so tight. I was told to put them on first thing in the morning and leave them on all day. They did keep the swelling down but as Summer progressed and temperatures soared, I found them uncomfortable to wear. Sweating was not something I enjoyed, and those tight Spandex sleeves made me sweat a lot! I looked for alternative ways of managing the swelling.

I started dry brushing in the shower. I bought a soft bristle body brush and would gently use it to push the fluid up toward my heart like the therapist had shown me. Then, I’d take a lukewarm shower. Hot showers could exacerbate the swelling, I had been told. Next, I’d use body lotion and beginning at the fingers, I’d gently move up my arm. Those things were great, but I had to do more if I was going to be outside.

While visiting the lymphatic massage therapist, I’d been warned about protecting my arms from injury. That included small wounds like bug bites, burns, or even sunburn. When I questioned the information, I was told wounds to my damaged limbs could cause cellulitis, a dangerous infection that can quickly escalate and sometimes require surgery. That scared me.

Now when Summer comes, and I plan to be outdoors, I wear thin long-sleeved shirts when I can. I’ve found several sporting goods stores that offer these type shirts with built in sun blockers. When it’s too hot to wear long sleeves, I spray myself with insect repellant. Normally I choose a product with DEET but lately I have opted for more natural sprays that don’t contain that chemical.

I also make sure to layer on sunscreen if I’ll be out for extended periods of time. I don’t want to risk a painful sunburn. And when I’m cooking at the grill, I wear long silicone mitts made especially for outdoor use. That way I’m sure my arms are protected from excessive heat.

Lymphedema isn’t something that can be cured. As a secondary complication from breast cancer surgery, the best thing I can do is manage it by protecting myself. When my arms begin to feel tight and uncomfortable, I’ll use my electric compression pump designed specifically for those who suffer from lymphedema and when I can’t do that, I’ll elevate my arms.

Summer seems to aggravate my symptoms. During cooler months, I don’t notice the lymphedema as much, but it’s still there. I guess it’s a small price to pay for surviving breast cancer and I’m willing to do whatever necessary to keep myself well and comfortable.

Managing lymphedema during the hot Southern summers poses significant challenges, especially for those who have undergone breast cancer surgery. Effective strategies include early morning activities, staying indoors during peak heat, and using air conditioning. Manual lymphatic drainage therapy and compression sleeves help manage swelling, though they can be uncomfortable in the heat. Additional measures include dry brushing, using insect repellent, wearing protective clothing, and applying sunscreen to prevent injuries and infections. While lymphedema is incurable, these strategies help manage symptoms and maintain comfort.

Summer heat can worsen my lymphedema, but I’ve learned simple ways to stay cool, reduce swelling and protect my arms — here’s what helps me most.

Lymphedema Makes Summer Preparations Challenging After Breast Cancer

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 

When my husband retired and we lost his health insurance, I wasn’t worried. I knew we’d qualify for Medicare. I assumed, like many others, that in my old age, the government-provided health care would take care of most of my needs. I wasn’t naïve in thinking I’d get the same quality coverage I’d received through my husband’s insurance company, but assumed it’d be close. Boy, was I mistaken.

When it came time to buy new breast prostheses and mastectomy bras, I went to our local shop. I’d become friends with the owner after my first visit and the subsequent visits. Every two years, under my husband’s policy, I was entitled to new breast prostheses. Since I’d had a double mastectomy, I was thankful. Silicone prostheses don’t last forever, even if you take good care of them. Mine had gotten old and wrinkly from constant wear and were ready to be replaced by the end of each two-year period. And the bras, with constant use, wore out quickly. I was thankful I qualified for four new mastectomy bras every year under his plan. Since this was the first time visiting the shop without company insurance coverage, I wasn’t sure about my Medicare coverage or benefits.

I talked with the shop owner, and she asked for my Medicare card. She was going to call and verify coverage. While she was calling, she told me to look around the shop and see if I saw anything I liked. I explained I didn’t really need to do that since I’d been coming so long. I’d found, through years of trial and error, my favorite breast prostheses and bras. Smiling, I said, “I’ll just reorder the ones I’ve purchased in the past. That way it will be easier for both of us.” She pulled my folder from a file cabinet and verified the products I wanted, then went in the back to call Medicare. When she came out, I could tell by the look on her face the news wasn’t good.

Leaning over the counter, she told me in a soft voice that the coverage wasn’t great. Medicare was only going to pay fifty percent of the costs, and the remainder, over $500, would be out of pocket. Taken aback, I inhaled and said, “I can’t really afford that. We’re living on a fixed income – solely on Social Security.” She was kind and understanding. Closing my folder, she said, “Let me know if things change.”

When I got out to the car, I talked to my husband. Explaining the information I’d received, he was as disappointed in our coverage as I was. We didn’t understand why Medicare didn’t cover the products at 80% like our old insurance coverage. Wasn’t government care supposed to be better?

When I got home, I looked up some information on the internet and found some unexpected information. I knew, from past research, that the Women’s Health and Cancer Rights Act of 1998 provided protection for patients who’d chosen to have breast reconstruction surgery. It was also supposed to allow for treatments related to complications from mastectomy, like lymphedema, an unexpected side effect I suffered after having lymph nodes removed. The act supposedly had provisions for prostheses and bras, but according to information listed on the American Cancer Society’s website, the law didn’t include Medicare or Medicaid coverage.

Finding that information was frustrating. It felt like I was being punished for two things: for being an older adult under government health care coverage and for being a breast cancer survivor.

I guess 50% coverage is better than nothing, but when each silicone breast prosthesis costs between $400 and $600 and I needed two of them, that was a lot to come up with out of pocket. On top of that, each mastectomy bra was between $50 and $75 dollars! When you’re living on a fixed income, how can you justify spending that much money to look normal? I could buy several months’ worth of groceries for the same price.

Considering all that, I decided I’d make my old, wrinkly boobs last a little longer. At least they’d be hidden in my dingy, gray mastectomy bra from last year. And when they were no longer usable, I’d opt for another choice. I found several cheaper options online. Of course, those are not high-quality silicone prostheses with cooling gel backs, like my old ones, but they’d work in a pinch. They were made of molded foam and were able to be inserted into a mastectomy-type camisole that’d work just about as well as an expensive mastectomy bra. For one-fourth of the price of the silicone boobs and nice, pocketed mastectomy bras, I could look normal. And, if I felt I couldn’t fork out $100 a pop for a set of those, I could always resort to stuffing an old bra with polyester fiberfill.

Sometimes, I wish I’d gone the reconstruction route. At least that would have been a “once and done” kind of thing. But after seeing some of the results from that type of surgery and the abnormal appearance of the built-in breasts, I figured I’d be better off faking my femininity.

If you’re an older woman, like me, and need breast prostheses or mastectomy bras, you might want to check your Medicare coverage before heading to a shop for your purchases. Since I have a Medicare Advantage plan, my coverage may be a little different than those with standard Medicare parts A and B. I’m not sure. If you’re blessed to have company insurance, you may want to check that coverage, too. And if you haven’t read through the WHCRA, you may want to do it. Medical professionals don’t always know the ins and outs of the law. Remember, you must be your own advocate when it comes to health-related issues and especially those relating to breast cancer.

Navigating Medicare coverage for breast prostheses and mastectomy bras can be challenging, especially for those accustomed to private insurance benefits. Medicare often covers only 50% of these costs, leaving patients with significant out-of-pocket expenses. The Women's Health and Cancer Rights Act of 1998 does not extend to Medicare or Medicaid, complicating access to necessary post-mastectomy products. Patients must be proactive in understanding their coverage and exploring alternative options to manage costs. Advocacy and awareness of legal protections are crucial for breast cancer survivors relying on government healthcare.

Eleven years post diagnosis and issues related to breast cancer still frustrate me. 

Unexpected Challenges 11 Years After Breast Cancer

We were barely through with the first week of the New Year when the weather began to get ugly. Listening to weather reports, we were shocked to find we were in for the first snowfall of the year. In the South, we don’t get snow often, so when weathermen say, “Get ready!” we do.

We bought a load of firewood, gathered oil lamps and oil, made sure we had some charcoal on hand in case our power went out and we needed a cooking source. Over the years, we’ve weathered several ice storms and even a blizzard or two. Though those aren’t regular occurrences in our area, they do come, and when they do, people act crazy. They run to the store for bread and milk. They gas up their cars, just in case, and like us, many of them hunker down until the nasty, cold weather passes. But when it only snows here, it’s beautiful! Looking out the window at our yard covered in white is so peaceful and serene.

We weren’t expecting much snow, only a dusting, but instead we were surprised to get about 5 inches! Grabbing my coat, hat, gloves and cell phone, I practically shoved my husband outside to get a photo, but just as I was about to open the door, I realized my hair was a disheveled mess. I’d taken a shower the night before but had bed head, and that wouldn’t make for a good photo. Rushing into my closet, I pulled down a pink box. Inside it was a beautiful, natural hair wig I’d purchased right after learning of my cancer diagnosis. From talking with other breast cancer survivors, I knew, with my stage and grade of cancer, I’d probably be going through chemotherapy and more than likely would lose my hair. I could hardly imagine what I’d look like without hair but knew it wouldn’t be pretty. So, I bought the wig. But I never used it.

After my initial diagnosis, I did a ton of research on treatment options – both traditional and non-traditional. I didn’t want to subject my body to more trauma than was necessary, so I spent a lot of time deciding what I was willing to do. After I’d made my decision, I shared it with my oncologist. He wasn’t very pleased with my decision, but that didn’t matter to me. I had to do what I thought best; after all, it was my body.

I shook out the wig and affixed it to the top of my head as best I could. Since I’d never worn it before, I wasn’t quite sure how to make it stay in place but kept it semi-straight by plopping a knitted cap on top of it. My husband had already gone outside and was waiting for me. We’d planned a photo in front of our new house, and the backdrop of the winter scene was perfect. Placing my cell phone into the selfie stick, I took several shots, and then we were so cold, we ran back inside.

As I got ready to remove my winter attire, my husband said, “Is that a wig?” I laughed and replied in the affirmative. He asked where I got it and when, so I told him. He nodded and told me it looked nice.

I went into the bathroom to remove the wig and brush my real hair. Gently, I placed the wig back in its box for safekeeping, and as I did, I was overcome with emotion. I was grateful I’d never needed the wig while undergoing treatment but knew several friends who’d opted for chemo and had either chosen to go bald or use head wraps. A couple of them had quite a collection of wigs and would wear them often, but some of them looked so fake I didn’t know how they did it.

Putting the wig box up on the shelf in my closet, I noticed my prostheses. I kept them in their storage boxes when I wasn’t using them. Another wave of emotion hit. I couldn’t help but remember when I’d first gone for a fitting for breast forms. I was utterly embarrassed and even a little ashamed. When I got home from that first appointment, I cried and cried. First, I was angry that breast cancer had entered my body and then, I mourned the loss of my breasts. They were part of me and though they’d never been large, I liked them. To me, they were my femininity.

It took a few minutes to collect myself and that’s when I realized how far I’d come since those first days, weeks, and months after diagnosis. I’d gone through a range of emotions and had finally come to a place of acceptance. Facing reality has taken a long time and if I’m honest, there are still some difficult days for me.

Breast cancer is not only a physical journey but an emotional one. My first thoughts, after hearing I had cancer, were those of fear and trepidation. I had no idea how things would go as I began treatment. I felt so unsure of my future. The next emotion was frustration as I did my best to make myself look normal. Without breasts, I often felt like a fake and a failure. I was so hard on myself thinking I should be stronger than I was. It was difficult to process all the ways cancer was changing my life, but over time, I think I’ve gotten to the point of being able to say I’ve finally made peace with the situation.

That wig will stay in my closet until I choose to bring it out again. It’s a beautiful one – a silvery gray shoulder-length bob with bangs. It definitely is thicker than my thin hair and does make me look a few years younger than I actually do.

It might be nice to use the wig for special occasions. I should have worn it for my youngest daughter’s wedding last year, but I’d forgotten all about it. I’m sure I would have looked 100% better in the professional photos if I’d had it on, but the pictures turned out nice anyway.

Coping with emotions before, during, and after breast cancer is challenging. People deal with emotional turmoil in different ways. What I learned is that I had to take one emotion at a time and work through it. As I did, I realized many things about myself – that I was resilient, strong, determined, and eventually optimistic about my future.

Wearing the wig outside for the snow photo this morning was fun! None of the neighbors were out, so they didn’t know I was wearing a wig under my hat. What I should have done is grab both the wig and the hat and thrown them into the air at the same time with an expression of glee on my face (just like Mary Tyler Moore used to do at the beginning of her television show –although she only threw a hat, not a wig.) And after tossing those into the air, I should have plopped down in the snow and made a snow angel. I haven’t done that since I was a kid, but I was afraid I’d managed to get down there I might not have been able to get back up. I’m a whole lot older now, and my bones and joints don’t always want to do what I tell them to do.

A diagnosis of breast cancer is traumatic, challenging, frightening, and often unexpected. There’s no real way to prepare for a possible “what if,” so I’d like to give one piece of advice as an 11-year survivor – give yourself grace. That’s the only way I’ve managed to get through each day. And it’s important to do things your way. If you want to buy a wig, do it! If you don’t, don’t. It’s okay. It really is okay.

Breast cancer is a multifaceted journey, encompassing both physical and emotional challenges. The narrative highlights the personal experience of a breast cancer survivor who navigated treatment decisions, emotional turmoil, and self-acceptance. The survivor chose a non-traditional treatment path, valuing personal autonomy over medical advice. The story underscores the importance of self-compassion and individual choice in coping with cancer's impact. The symbolic use of a wig reflects the survivor's journey towards acceptance and resilience, emphasizing the significance of personal agency and grace in overcoming adversity.

Cancer memories often sneak up on me when I least expect them to. 

Bonnie Annis

Survivors of Breast Cancer May Still Struggle with Fear of Recurrence

Lymphedema Makes Summer Preparations Challenging After Breast Cancer

Unexpected Challenges 11 Years After Breast Cancer

Snow, A Wig, and Memories After My Breast Cancer Diagnosis

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