Living in a Post-Cancer World

I was watching the news recently.  It was just after that Malaysian flight went missing.  An analyst was talking about living in a post 9/11 world and how of course terrorism must be considered.  It got me thinking.   I’m living in a post-cancer world.  What does that mean?

Well, for me being a cancer survivor is still relatively new.  It’s only been 29 months since my breast cancer diagnosis.  I was fortunate that it was caught so early.  But my life and how I view it was irretrievably altered.   My situation was unusual.  It was greatly complicated by the fact that within months of completing the radiation treatments my husband was diagnosed with terminal cancer.   I was still adjusting to my own diagnosis but had to set that aside to be there for him.   And of course I’ve been dealing with the grief of losing him for the past 15 months. 

Yet somehow I keep moving forward.  One tiny step at a time.  Sometimes with guilt.  Sometimes with grief.   I think the cruelest thing of all is when a cancer patient has to watch a loved one die of cancer.  I lost my medical innocence.  I now know only too well that all those blood tests they run at the cancer center may not tell the whole story.  My husband continued to have really good blood test results for months after his diagnosis.  There are days when I wish they would just do a full body CT scan and rule out any and all kinds of cancer.  But of course a CT scan contains so much radiation that they would never do them routinely.   It’s reserved for when they are fairly certain there is a new problem.  

In my case, I have to be aware of certain risks associated with Tamoxifen.   Annual eye exams to rule out any crystals forming near the retina, watch out for early symptoms of uterine cancer.  And of course the standard areas of concern for breast cancer recurrence are lungs, brain or bones.  Fun to contemplate, isn’t it?  Trust me- it’s best not to think of it at all.  Of course there are times when you must.  

During the holidays I had to have a biopsy to rule out uterine cancer after having some unusual symptoms.  It came back normal.  I was told to just self monitor and let them know if I need more tests.  I recently began having ocular migraines.  I had them years ago so it isn’t that unusual for me.  But now that I am a cancer survivor, the ophthalmologist had to do her job. She explained that while there are no signs of metastasis, if the headaches continue I should call her.  She’s willing to schedule a MRI to rule anything out.   I cried that night.  She doesn’t really believe there is a problem.  Nor do I.  But she made me think about the possibility.    

So, in this post-cancer world, I try not to dwell on what could be.  I keep my old mantra from when I was first diagnosed firmly in mind:  ‘Any one of us could step off a curb and be hit by a bus on any given day.’  Life is uncertain.  Cancer, or an illness far worse, could happen to anyone.  At any time.  

The best advice I could offer a fellow cancer survivor is not to dwell on what could go wrong.  You'll think about it sometimes.  Just don't dwell.  Find the joy that you can each day.  Savor the good moments.  Live in love.  Take the time to notice those sunrises and sunsets. Admire all the flowers.  Spend some quiet time with God.  Join in with the silly laughter of a small child.   Listen to the ocean waves.   Let the sun soak in on a warm spring day.  Bring home a bunch of those supermarket daffodils.  Connect with friends and family.   Read interesting books.  Catch the latest movie you heard was so good.  And above all else, be gentle with yourself.   You are still moving forward bravely, even if it doesn't always feel like it.