A few days ago I had my 7th yearly mammogram since my cancer diagnosis. Let me stress first, I am very aware of how fortunate I am. My appointment was early in the morning, my husband came with me (like he’s been doing, since he didn’t come during my diagnostic mammogram seven years ago) and I got a clean bill of health from the radiologist quite quickly.
I didn’t even feel those few minutes of hovering as I waited for the results. The technician had allowed my hubby into the mammogram room to wait with me, and he and I casually chatted so I didn’t notice the time pass.
Wow, things have changed.
‘Scuse me while I sit back and reflect on how fortunate I am for getting this far. (Photo by Fuu J on Unsplash)
Every year, this feels different, cancer feels further away and I feel less “impending sense of doom” that I had in the first several years.
That’s why something like Kate Middleton’s announcement that she had started chemotherapy for cancer shocked me back to reality.
No matter how good I currently feel about my own situation, there are many reminders that cancer is still a terrible disease that doesn’t care who you are or what you have going on. And it’s still grabbing people and throwing them into treatment.
So much for my cocky attitude.
At times like these, I take a moment to reflect on gratitude for how far I’ve come and, as suggested by my oncologist, how much more life I have in front of me. I don’t think I would have ever felt this appreciation as deeply if I hadn’t gone through the soul-tearing experience that cancer is. Which is not to say that I’m glad I went through it, because I’m not.
Still reminders like Kate’s announcement help counter the selfish little feelings that I sometimes get when I see the free things available to cancer patients now and pout that those weren’t there for me. Yes, those are “human” feelings, but you know what, I can do without them.
Instead, it’s so much more fulfilling to bask in the golden hour sun, taking deep nourishing breaths, and shoo away the everyday concerns that disturb my sleep. At least I have the luxury of being able to busy myself with them, the bothersome little things, and know that I’m still around to have them be a bother.
A few days ago I had my seven-year post-diagnosis appointment with my oncologist. Seven whole years. And it was a weird conversation.
He said something that set me aback. He told me that he didn’t think I should worry about the cancer coming back. Essentially, I was cured (note: MY words, not his, but that’s the idea). [See bottom of post for disclaimer!]
He’s alluded to this before during previous appointments. But this time around felt different.
I returned home a bit confused. See, for the last seven years, I’ve been a full-on cancer survivor. Still holding on to the fear that at any moment, I would get those terrifying scan results back and–WHAM–I’m a cancer patient once more, back on that sickening rollercoaster ride through treatment.
As difficult as it was to accept that–even trying my best to live a healthy life–I had somehow been smacked down by cancer…now, I had a new problem. Reentering life as maybe not-so-much a cancer survivor anymore, but rather just a healthy, active postmenopausal woman with years ahead of her.
And that is a weird feeling.
For the first five years after my diagnosis, I was frustrated, even angry. Cancer was a devastating detour at a time when I was already struggling to find my way back into a career. Well, forget that. Derailed. I was bitter.
Eventually, I realized that while life sucked, it sucked for a lot of people and I wasn’t special in that regard. That was an important turning point in how I perceived my own role in my cancer story–it was humbling but also gratifying.
Humbling because my experience could have been so much worse. There were people whose treatment did not end well. I was incredibly fortunate, even when it felt like I’d been thrown in a sack and beaten with sticks. At least, I made it out.
Gratifying because early on I held myself responsible for getting cancer, even though I had literally done everything protective (lots of exercise, high fitness, plant-based diet, breastfeeding, not smoking, not drinking) that I could think of. I was desperate with frustration and helplessness about this. Letting go of that guilt was healing.
Feels like I’ve got the green light to hurry up and get on with the rest of my life now. (Photo by Possessed Photography on Unsplash)
So the last two years have been more about understanding my perspective and then stepping out of it to view things more objectively. Mindfulness and meditation helped with that, which is why I often write about them here. But I hadn’t been ready to get out of the breakdown lane and drive myself back into mainstream life, in part fearful of the pain of having the expectation of cancer-free “normality” smashed to smithereens by a potential diagnosis.
Gradually, that’s changed. But this last appointment felt like getting shoved out the door by someone yelling, “YOU’RE OKAY, DAMMIT!” Here I am, standing and blinking in the sunlight, trying to make sense of exactly what that means for me now. Wow, after seven years, I can actually stop being afraid.
I don’t know if I even remember what that feels like.
Yes, I’m still going to refer to myself as a survivor, because it’s a part of my natural history. I’m never going to forget that experience and I continue to be driven by a need to support others going through this disease.
And if it does return? Well, at least I will have had a brief glimpse of life completely outside the notion of cancer.
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Of course, because we’re talking about cancer, the statements above call for level-headness in the midst of levity. While my oncologist feels that the chances of the same cancer coming back are low, the possibility for a brand spankin’ new tumor, breast or otherwise, never goes away. It happened once, it can happen again. But that’s life. I’ll take it.
Many cancer patients complain of feelings of helplessness after their diagnosis, and I can certainly relate to that. As a result, I’m particularly interested in research that explores whether patients can gain control over the success of their treatments.
The most recent study I’ve come across includes breast cancer patients undergoing treatment at Yale and Dana Farber Cancer Centers.
This study appeared in the Journal of Clinical Oncology(Sanft et al., 2023). Researchers examined the effect of diet and exercise on “relative dose intensity” (RDI), which is the relationship between the amount of chemotherapy delivered to the patient compared to the standard amount prescribed. Low RDI means that there was a reduction in the chemotherapy the patient received and is generally associated with a poorer outcome. Dose reductions result from the patient’s difficulty in tolerating the drug.
The researchers also looked for “pathologic complete response” (pCR), which is “the lack of all signs of cancer in tissue samples removed during surgery or biopsy after treatment with radiation or chemotherapy” (definition from cancer.gov). This was for women receiving neoadjuvant chemotherapy, which is chemotherapy administered prior to surgery.
Yep, once again we come back to diet and exercise, even during chemo. (Photo by Yulissa Tagle on Unsplash)
The subjects of this study were women recently diagnosed with stage I-III breast cancer, who either received the “usual care” or a diet and exercise intervention. Those in the intervention group received nutritional counseling with a focus on a plant-based diet. The physical activity included counseling and support for maintaining a home-based exercise program that included strength training (2x/week) and brisk walking (150 min/week of moderate intensity or 75 min/week of vigorous intensity).
What the research confirmed first was that the subjects in the intervention group were able to increase their exercise and diet quality, which showed that it was feasible to make lifestyle improvements even in the midst of chemotherapy.
However, in this study, the RDI for both groups (“usual care” and diet & exercise intervention) ended up being similar, but also quite high, which meant that women in both groups completed most of their treatment. The researchers noted that the study should be re-run with patients who were at greater risk of not being able to complete all their chemo to see how much of an effect improved diet and exercise would have, especially since exercise has been shown in other studies to have a positive effect on patient outcomes.
But a striking difference was seen for women receiving neoadjuvant (prior to surgery) chemotherapy in that the rates of pCR (disappearance of cancer in the tissues) were 53% for women in the intervention group versus 28% for women receiving usual care. That suggests that the intervention enabled the chemotherapy to be more effective.
There are many physical activities you can choose from–clifftop not required. (Photo by Sigmund on Unsplash)
The researchers stated the following in summarizing their study: “Given that pCR is an accepted predictor of recurrence and mortality, our findings could provide oncologists with a supportive care intervention that affects the ability to potentially improve survival outcomes” (Sanft et al., 2023, J Clin Oncol). And this is very good news indeed.
The take-home message here is not surprising, and it’s good advice for life in general: no matter what your current lifestyle, prioritizing a healthier diet (emphasis on whole foods, plant-based, less processing, etc.) and engaging in regular cardiovascular and strength training exercise will improve your quality of life. It is always worth the effort.
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REFERENCE: Sanft et al. (2023) Randomized Trial of Exercise and Nutrition on Chemotherapy Completion and Pathologic Complete Response in Women With Breast Cancer: The Lifestyle, Exercise, and Nutrition Early After Diagnosis Study. J Clin Oncol, 41: 5285–5295. https://doi.org/10.1200%2FJCO.23.00871. [This paper is Open Access and can also be found in PubMed Central: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC10691793/]
It’s February and that means it’s the start of “diagnosis season” for me. At this point in cancer survivorship, I don’t get as affected by everything that happened “on this date X years ago“. However, I have an oncologist appointment and my yearly 3D mammogram around this time, so I can’t forget what this month means.
You would think that since 2024 marks seven (!) years since my initial diagnosis, I’d feel pretty good about having made it this far past my treatment…and you would be right.
I’m now living the feeling that I so desperately wished for seven years ago when everything felt devastating and out of control. My outcome, even with the many pesky moguls that I’ve had to clear, is something I’m so thankful for.
But of course, even as mellow and relatively unconcerned as I am now, there are little reminders of the rough and tumble past that unsettle me.
Like that point in my mammogram when the tech finishes up and leaves the room to consult with the radiologist, and all of a sudden I don’t feel great anymore. It’s maybe 5-10 minutes or so of sitting in a quiet room all by myself, wrapped up in that bathrobe-y gown made out of fabric that seems like it should be less scratchy, trying to focus really hard on the tropical ocean video that they have playing on the tv screen on the wall.
No matter how warm the room is, there is a cold spot in the pit of my stomach. The hospital does its best making the surroundings seem inviting. Really they try. But it’s kind of hard to mellow out the echo of an impending sense of doom.
Same goes for every time my oncologist says something like, “Hmmm, should we do another chest MRI?” No, no we should not. That’s about 45 minutes of being stretched out like superman on a surface that’s clearly meant for a woman much shorter than me, while getting my ears blasted.
In case you’ve never taken a ride in the tube, this is what it’s like. Don’t forget your earplugs. Bonus for chest MRIs: you’re lying on your belly with your arms stretched past your head for almost an hour, giving you plenty of time to reconsider your life choices.
My husband says the MRI sounds like a broken dot matrix printer. I think if your printer is making sounds like that, it’s time to evacuate the building.
Ah the memories. But again, I am talking about this from the vantage point of seven years away. It is nicer being up here above the fray. It also gives me a great view of the potential rollercoaster disaster that this season could become, if my scans go south.
But seven years into this, I’m betting it probably won’t. So far, so good.
Apologies because this might sound like a rant but this topic has been on my mind a lot lately.
When you’re diagnosed with cancer, you learn about the many side effects of treatments.
You will be informed about the physical and even psychological effects that cancer patients deal with, but there are also considerable financial repercussions. Patients may struggle with hospital bills: some lose their insurance coverage, others might never have had any to begin with, those who have coverage may find that it’s insufficient. It’s not uncommon to hear how cancer has driven survivors and their families into bankruptcy.
On top of that, cancer can do a number on your career aspirations for years to come.
Money issues are one of the side effects of cancer that don’t get a lot of airtime…but really should. (Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash)
In case you think that it’s uncool to complain about one’s career in the face of having survived cancer, let me get this out of the way: being a cancer survivor is a privilege. I’ve written before about how acutely aware I am that I have lasted longer than many cancer patients.
But as the effectiveness of cancer treatments improves, the number of cancer survivors increases and long-term repercussions become a more and more serious consideration, particularly how they affect ongoing quality of life.
For people who are still working out their careers, cancer can derail progress because it plants a huge stop sign in their path.
Think of going into the chemo infusion room: the days leading up to it entail appointments, port placement, purchasing supplies (anti-emetics, anyone?) and in general prepping for being out of commission about a week.
It’s not the time to focus on stressful work deadlines (and most sincere condolences to any patient who has to do that!).
Ironically, as much as I feared infusions, they actually gave me an excuse to focus on myself instead of worrying about everyone else. I posted about that here somewhat sadly that chemo allowed me to rest without feeling guilty.
It was at that point that I’d realized I’d been pushing myself, always expecting more and not feeling like I was measuring up. Chemo gave me a break from that. Which was good…kind of…
But after chemo and radiation came endocrine therapy, so just as I was winding down from one set of side effects, up popped another.
And all those plans I’d had for myself were put off again and again. Career goals seemed more out of reach because my timeline had shifted.
Well, I’m not stupid, so I changed my career goals. Makes sense, right? Cancer provided a different perspective on things and motivated me in another direction.
But in the wake of cancer treatment, I feel like I’m walking in cement shoes…if it’s not one thing it’s another. I got off aromatase inhibitors (early) and then realized that I was having memory and focus issues. Whether Cancer Related Cognitive Impairment (CRCI) or menopause-driven brain fog, all of a sudden I’m dealing with something else.
It feels as though the train to prosperity has left the station and I was just a little too late to catch it.
Great.
Right now I’m looking at sky-rocketing costs-of-living in a part of the country that literally got expensive around me. Instead of moving up in the world, my family and I are desperately searching for less pricey housing which will put us in worse conditions and a longer commute to work.
And at age 57, when most of my friends are looking at enjoying retirement in the years to come, planning for what they’ll do in their golden years, I’m trying to reeducate myself, shifting into a career that doesn’t make much use of previous work experience.
And it feel exhausting. Sometimes I want to cry.
I want to believe this, I really do. But I don’t think that there’s a reward for surviving cancer beyond simply surviving cancer. (Photo by Nik on Unsplash)
Yes, I’m happy to be alive. But no, this was not the way I thought things would go. When initially I was told that I had a decent chance of surviving for five years, that was all I could think about. In fact, that was all that mattered.
I wasn’t thinking about the fact that if I managed to live through this, I’d still need to find a way to make a living. And the interruption that was cancer could do a number on that.
At this point, I need to stress that my intention is *not* to try to scare cancer patients into dreading survivorship. Goodness knows, there are enough things to navigate within the cancer experience as relate to the usual treatments that will take your energy and attention.
I wish nothing less for you than 100% remission and many years ahead to enjoy your “survivor” label.
At the same time, I encourage you to remain present and mindful of the fact that you might have to pivot if you’re not already well-established in your career. If things start to change in a direction that’s southward of what you expected, be patient and readjust your expectations. Nuture acceptance and keep an eye on how you can put yourself in a good position to meet the future. And be kind to yourself.
With all the focus on breast cancer during October, pushing us to be warriors and fight our way through this, the concept of survivorship can get lost in the fray.
We talk about cancer treatment and get very granular about the procedures, whether surgery, chemotherapy or radiation therapy. And those do deserve a lot of discussion as they can be difficult to endure. Some, like chemo, have an almost legendary reputation and it’s important to be able to separate fact from fiction.
After all the noise and attention associated with cancer treatment, survivorship can leave some of us feeling alone. Photo by Atharva Tulsi on Unsplash
Consider: how many of us, upon hearing that we have breast cancer, preoccupy ourselves with worrying about what life will be like five years down the road? More likely, we’re thinking about what treatment will be like and are hoping that we’ll be around when it’s done!
But with so many women surviving breast cancer, it’s important to talk about what happens after the dust settles and you realize you’re on the other side of the treatment that you had so feared. Is it really the “other” side?
So much of my blog has been devoted to the life after cancer. After I documented my treatment journey, I turned around to get hit in the face with all the stuff that I wasn’t expecting.
One of those was endocrine therapy. Women with hormone receptor positive cancers aren’t done when the “tough stuff” is over. Tamoxifen and aromatase inhibitors are a whole new round of treatment that can affect your hair, your libido, your joints and more. Some women get hot flashes and night sweats. Some experience weight gain. And these are medications intended to be taken for a number of years.
There may be body image issues. Breast cancer surgery can leave women looking very different from their pre-cancer days. Like it or not, breasts are associated with womanhood. Whether lumpectomy or mastectomy, with or without reconstruction, there is a new normal that needs to be dealt with.
By seeking support and relating your story, you help not only others who are dealing with something similar in addition to yourself. Photo by Ivana Cajina on Unsplash
And then cognitive issues like distractibility, loss of memory and difficulty processing concepts may come up. To make things more complicated, these may appear after treatment is in our rear view mirror and our loved ones may simply not appreciate what we’re dealing with. The bodies and minds of survivors may change in a way that they are not prepared for. Because, how do you anticipate something like this?
Survivorship does not mean that you never again have to think about cancer or its repercussions. There will be adjustments to your expectations as to how your life will be from now on. It’s important that those around you understand that just because you are done with the major cancer treatments, things might not feel familiar or normal.
So we need to be having this conversation with those around us and making opportunities for affected women to seek help and support. There is no shame in being a survivor who is also struggling. While it’s true that we are “lucky to be alive”, it does not mean that we have no right to seek a higher quality of life.
About a year or so before I felt a cancerous lump in my breast, I was tasked with planning an academic conference, which I’d never done before. The project was running behind schedule, procedures had changed and I felt panicky and lost.
As a result, I was working seven days a week with most workdays lasting into the night. This was in addition to having to break in the early afternoon to pick up my children from school, then continuing work from home.
Everything was a rush and I had a constant lightheaded feeling.
When you have the least time to move is when you need to move the most! Photo by niu niu on Unsplash
Most non-work activities fell by the wayside (Cooking? Cleaning? What’s that?). But the most pivotal of these was exercise. I’d been through highly stressful situations before but always had the opportunity to work off my anxiety. This time there was none of that.
Anxiety sat like a boulder in my stomach. I could feel my brain buzzing from the stress but couldn’t do anything about it. There was SO MUCH to take care of that my work-life balance was non-existent. There was only work, and this went on for weeks. My mental well-being plummeted, sleep was filled with night sweats…and the agony of not having the time to work out magnified my anxiety.
We know how bad sitting is for you physically, but not everyone is aware of the psychological ramifications of being sedentary, especially when it comes to managing stress. I found it so ironic that after my tumor was confirmed, the doctors estimated that it had started developing a year or so prior…during the time that I felt my life falling apart.
Stress did not cause my tumor. But it didn’t help my body counter it either.
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I personally am convinced that there’s no healthier, more positive way to tame anxiety than exercise. COVID’s remote work situation demonstrated to me that I feel much saner when I can stick a workout into the middle of my day, even if it lengthens my workday a bit, and the increased blood flow helps with my mood and productivity.
There is a Zen saying: “If you don’t have time to meditate for an hour everyday, you should meditate for two hours.” I believe that this saying also holds true if you substitute the word “exercise” for “meditate”.
Find movement that you enjoy and then stick it into your day. Photo by Ahmad Odeh on Unsplash
Obviously, I’m not suggesting that you do either for two hours. The idea is that when you are overwhelmed with responsibilities and stress, that is an indication that you need meditation AND exercise all the more.
Frankly, it’s also time to reevaluate your life priorities, but that can be difficult.
How to get more movement into your day? Based on the research* that I’ve seen, it’s best to take breaks about every half hour. That might seem impossible for some people and some work situations, but do the best you can. The last thing you need is more pressure on yourself.
Even just standing up and stretching is better than sitting glued to your seat. If you can walk around, take the long way to the bathroom. Hike up and down the stairs. Breathe deeply. Start there and you can add more later, keeping in mind that energy begets energy: the less you move, the harder it will be to get started; the more you move, the easier.
If you have time for a considerably longer break and don’t yet have an established training program, start by picking a rhythmic movement like walking, running, cycling or swimming and lose yourself in the rocking motion. Not only does that give you exercise, but the gentle back-and-forth is soothing for the nervous system.
Most importantly, make the experience a positive one.
My personal recipe for mind-happy exercise is: (1) indoor rowing (for the rhythm and cardio load), (2) strength training (with a focus on each repetition) and of course (3) yoga (for deep breathing and unwinding the stressed-out body). But these recipes will vary for every individual. What’s yours?
*I had a choice between getting my workout and meditation in or digging up these references. Guess which I chose? 😉 I’ll be back with the science in another post.
As you’re probably aware by now, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. For breast cancer patients and recent survivors, seeing all that pink around can be a little stressful.
Yes, it’s important to maintain awareness that 1 out of 8 women in the United States will be diagnosed with breast cancer at some point in their lives. Those of us who have already been…well, it would be nice to forget about it once in a while.
So for this post, I want to offer you a very simple meditation. No prep needed.
Pause where you are right now and become still. Right where you are.
Notice how your body feels in the space that you’re inhabiting. What sensations do you feel most strongly?
The expansion and contraction of your ribcage with your breath?
The contact points of your body on the surface where it rests?
Perhaps a pesky little ache somewhere, in your joints, muscles or around an incision?
Tingling in your fingers or toes?
Are you gripping anywhere? If you notice tension somewhere in your body, very very slowly see if you can soften it. It’s okay if it doesn’t release completely – imagine that part becoming heavy and pliable.
And then see what other physical sensations make themselves known to you.
Stay with your body. There might be a lot going on in your mind right now, but that’s “up there” in your head.
We are down here in your physical being. Feel the stillness that exists here, not agitated by your thoughts. It’s okay if there’s noise in your mind, like if you lived on the floor below a bustling office. All those workers up there, getting their stuff done.
You can hear them, moving about, speaking in muffled tones, keeping busy. That’s all okay. They can be there.
But we’re all hanging out in stillness down below, with distance between what’s going on here and what’s happening elsewhere. We have space.
How does it feel knowing that you have permission to be still? That you don’t need to drop everything and dash upstairs? The thoughts can wait. They’re not going anywhere. You have time.
Eventually, you’ll return to the hustle and bustle up there. But know that you can always take a break, come down into your body and sit in the stillness that is here.
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This October in particular is very busy for me. A big project at work, the holidays around the corner, prepping for guests while our apartment STILL awaits repairs. And then strange guilt that I’m not doing more yoga teaching. It’s a lot to manage in my head, all this piling on of responsibilities.
So that meditation up ^^^ there? Yeah, I needed that. ❤
Since we are just at the start of October, aka Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I thought I’d go through some basics about getting information on breast cancer.
Let’s face it, as soon as you suspect that you feel a lump in your breast, feel a lump in your breast, have something funny show up on a mammogram and get called in for an ultrasound, are told that there’s something weird on the ultrasound and you need a biopsy, the biopsy reveals a tumor, as you’re in between any of the above, have a loved one go through this, or ANYTHING like the above really, you’ll have the urge to consult Dr. Google.
BE CAREFUL. When I asked my cancer surgeon about getting more info, she gave me a few websites and told me not to go anywhere else. These included:
The National Cancer Institute (NCI) is one of your best and most reliable resources for solid cancer-related medical information.
I was very surprised at the limited number of websites she suggested, but the reasoning made sense. You want to be sure that the information you’re receiving is accurate, up-to-date and vetted by cancer professionals. Both NCI and ACS can provide you with references to clinical studies to back up their information.
This was in 2017. I expect that you can find additional reliable resources now. However, as I discovered when I was looking up other sites, the Internet moves fast and what was once a good source may now be a broken link.
I want to stress: My blog should not be used as a source for making treatment decisions. I mean that with all my heart. I started my blog to relate my own experiences and research in the hopes of being able to provide the view of a cancer patient/survivor about what it’s like to go through a cancer journey.
I had been frustrated by not having an idea of what a lumpectomy looks like, no month-by-month photos of the process of hair regrowth, no good rundown of what to expect during my first chemo infusion, not understanding what that ‘chemo port’ thing was, having my medical team draw a blank when I asked why I had no body odor…and so many more things. So I decided to post photos and write about them in short, to-the-point posts.
But everyone’s experience is different. We have different backgrounds, different lifestyles, varying levels of risk factors and therefore different cancer journeys. The best resource that you have is your medical team. Make sure that you feel comfortable with them, get a second opinion if your treatment options seem inappropriate and definitely change doctors if you feel that yours do not listen to your needs.
Stick with the lastest scientific info.
Even though there are many complementary treatments you can try (I personally benefitted from meditation and exercise), do not use them as alternatives. Your best bet for survival remains conventional medicine.
Please seek out the resources offered by your cancer center. If you need someone to talk to, consult with whatever mental health support is available–this was also invaluable to me. This is not something you should feel you need to “tough it through”. You don’t have to prove anything. Just showing up for your treatments shows your strengh. Same thing goes for those providing care for you during this time, which can more more emotionally taxing than many are willing to admit. Look into support groups for both patients and caregivers.
Understand that you did nothing wrong. You didn’t deserve this.
And everything that I suggested above? Yes, check with your medical team even about my recommendations. The list of sites may very well have expanded by now but my admonishment to watch your step where your get your information for making decisions remains. Please, you are worth it.
As you navigate the experience that is cancer, whether your own or of someone you care about, please know that I am rooting for you, thinking about you and can’t wait to see you on the other side! ❤
A little over a week ago, I had another oncological appointment. This one marked my six years since completing chemo for triple positive breast cancer.
Honestly, at this point, the conversation between my doctor and myself has turned much more social. There are not as many pressing matters to discuss. My bloodwork is normal and boring. I don’t have side effects to speak of, at least not any that I can attribute solely to cancer treatment (hello, menopause, ugh). And even my oncologist is openly positive about my future.
Wow, have things changed.
Six years ago I was dealing with the effects of a nasty fingernail infection that landed me in the ER (be forewarned before clicking that link: it was pretty gross!). But for this appointment, I was asking my doc how HE was feeling.
Our conversations have become pleasantly mundane and I enjoy catching up with him. Also, I am panicking less.
As a cancer survivor, I do not like surprises. When my doc says to schedule an exam, I’m going to do it fast!
Much less. Even when I do lapse into micro-panic, I have accompanying moments of calm. That is a definite improvement. At the same time, cancer is cancer. So when my oncologist noticed that I hadn’t had a pelvic exam this year, he told me I needed it. And then before our appointment ended, he repeated that I should get one.
For a brief instant, my emergency alarms went off.
Maybe it was the fact that he repeated himself and seemed very serious about it. After six years of hypervigilance, I still get unnerved by slight shifts in tone of voice. I think that’s hard-wired in me, seared in via anxiety, even though my days of being a hot stress-mess are behind me.
It’s so tempting to wipe my hands off and pretend that everything is normal, but cancer teaches us that some nasty stuff might be lurking under the surface of, “I’m sure it’s nothing”. My days of innocent ignorance are gone.
So, yeah, I’m fine. Still no recurrence of a cancer in my breasts. Probably not anywhere else either. I’ll remain optimistic and look forward to seeing my oncologist in six months and chatting again.
Frantic Shanti 