As I’ve endured my time with cancer, I’ve come to the realization that I’ve given it preferential treatment. For the past few years, I’ve given cancer the front seat and not only that, sometimes, I’ve even allowed cancer to take the driver’s wheel. I’ve become a passenger on my own life’s journey."
BY Bonnie Annis
PUBLISHED March 31, 2018
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.
There comes a time during one’s cancer journey when a conscious decision has to be made to remove cancer’s right to first place in a life. This is my story and how I made this important decision.
Growing up in the late 1950s, my siblings and I learned to enjoy the simple pleasures of life. Back then, it wasn’t hard to find joy. Running barefoot on warm summer days, reading a good book, or just visiting with friends made us happy. Things were easier then. Things were also very different.
On Sunday afternoons, our family would often take a drive through the country. My father would pull our old blue Ford station wagon into position on our gravel driveway while my mother gathered the picnic basket and herded us toward the door. My brother, sister and I would scamper toward the car, pushing and shoving, hoping to get the window seat. Back then, there were no seat belts and the long bench seat in the station wagon allowed us to move about freely as we traveled. But if you were lucky enough to get the seat by the window, you not only could get a clear view of the scenery, but you also had control of the window’s handle. This meant if you were hot, you could roll down the window and feel the fresh breeze on your face. Being stuck in the middle seat was dreadful. It meant you’d be elbowed from both sides. None of us ever wanted to be stuck in the middle.
Growing up in the late 1950s, my siblings and I learned to enjoy the simple pleasures of life. Back then, it wasn’t hard to find joy. Running barefoot on warm summer days, reading a good book, or just visiting with friends made us happy. Things were easier then. Things were also very different.
On Sunday afternoons, our family would often take a drive through the country. My father would pull our old blue Ford station wagon into position on our gravel driveway while my mother gathered the picnic basket and herded us toward the door. My brother, sister and I would scamper toward the car, pushing and shoving, hoping to get the window seat. Back then, there were no seat belts and the long bench seat in the station wagon allowed us to move about freely as we traveled. But if you were lucky enough to get the seat by the window, you not only could get a clear view of the scenery, but you also had control of the window’s handle. This meant if you were hot, you could roll down the window and feel the fresh breeze on your face. Being stuck in the middle seat was dreadful. It meant you’d be elbowed from both sides. None of us ever wanted to be stuck in the middle.
