Ann Pendley

Ann PendleyWhen I was 42 I was the strongest woman for my weight class at my gym, benching 165 pounds when I weighed 123. I played a mean squash game and challenged myself on tricky mountain bike trails. My physical identity was with my upper body, breasts, and long, thick hair. My personal identity was with working my butt off, having fun, and being all-over-the-place spiritually. Two years later the effects of chemo and surgery brought me to a very different place. A world in which I was out there, front and center - with no hair or muscle mass to protect me and only half a cleavage. It was just me. At one point, it was me and the one eyelash I had left – upon which I still applied mascara. My skin turned to tissue paper. Wouldn't want any hormones feeding the cancer cells.

Upon my five-year anniversary of that diagnosis (most of that time with “no evidence of disease”), boom – here we go again. In April 2004, “It’s baaaacckk.” Now it’s a world of riding shotgun down the avalanche of advances in breast-cancer research. Even though I have a love-hate relationship with health insurances, modern medicine (and of course my complementary medicine) may find a way to reclassify this cancer from “progression” to a “chronic” disease.

I'm no Pollyanna, but I have made some peace with the outcomes and the process. I’m with someone who has loved me through each stage of my body, mind and spirit. My family, friends and co-workers are phenomenal. There’s even peace in my soul when I quiet my monkey mind. Despite, or because of, the spreading of the disease, I still run a business that I love (speech-language therapy), do yoga, play tennis, laugh, cry, love, take risks, and challenge others to do their best. We ALL are dealing with something. Ya gotta love reality. I look forward to every birthday; upcoming is number 53. I wouldn’t want to be any other age than the one I am … right now.

Ann Pendley
March 2008