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. 

Reverse: Not My Strong Suit

I pulled my small SUV into my assigned garage parking space and carefully lined up the car so I centered the car in the spot.   As the past year has taught me it makes the reversing out of the parking space so much easier.  The interesting thing is that the more experience I’ve gained maneuvering my car between the neighbor’s SUV and the wall and large support post is that reversing the car is less intimidating.   I don’t think about it anymore.  Not like the early days after the move when Robert taught me how to pull in and out with ease.  I joked with him that the spot was so difficult for me that the second time I hit something I was getting a smaller vehicle.  After all, reverse had never been my strong suit.

I began wondering if my not liking to reverse has been limited to the world of driving?  I don’t like to read the same book twice.  Not even a book that I truly treasured as a favorite.   I don’t see the point in traveling to the same distant vacation destination more than once – haven’t you already seen everything?  There are so many new places to visit.  On a menu I am always scanning the choices looking for something new to try.   Perhaps I have a natural ability to be forward focused? 

But is being perpetually forward focused necessarily a good thing?  In its own way it may be as limiting as dwelling on the past.  You could get lost in the endless possibilities of ‘what’s next?’  The older I am the more I understand that more choices do not lead to happiness.  I can’t help but believe that being fully present in the current moment is an even better state of mind.

It brings to mind a scene from the movie ‘Star Trek: Insurrection’ in which Captain Picard learns how to capture and slow down the perfect moment.   It is something that practitioners of meditation know well.   Now, how to continuously achieve that coveted state is something to ponder.   It sounds a bit lofty, this new goal.   It may take a while to get there.   No better time to start than right now.     This very moment. 

Modest Expectations

I used to have expectations.  Some were underlying assumptions of what life would be or how people would behave.  Some were more demanding expectations of how people would interact with me.  The last few years have taught me to let go of expectations.  

Some of my past great expectations were that although I’d experienced numerous quirky health issues I wouldn’t face anything really scary like cancer.  I just knew that I would retire in a few years and my husband and I would spend many contented years together in retirement.  After all, my husband was so healthy there was just no way something like cancer would dare attack his body. 

After having been proved wrong in these greater areas I have come to examine the smaller day-to-day expectations.  We all have them.  We expect someone to call us or say something that is not said.  We quietly expect people in our lives to behave certain ways all the time.  As a widow you find yourself in the unusual situation where truly people can’t do or say the ‘right’ thing for you.  Your emotions are on a roller coaster and most of the people in your life simply can’t understand the ride.  They will try and they will fail.  Sometimes they will get it right.  It is far better to seek acceptance.  My husband used to say:  ‘it is what it is.’

My suggestion is that we have much more modest expectations of the people around us and ourselves.  I by no means suggest that we live quiet lives of desperation.  I rely on the graces of God to provide for me.  I live in hope.  I just no longer get concerned if a person doesn’t call me.  I can always reach out to them.  And if someone says the wrong thing, I forgive unintended hurts more readily.  I realize that other people are struggling with their own failed great expectations.  And I always remember to be gentle with myself.  I am on a constantly changing journey in this life.  I don’t know what the future will hold but I trust it will be good.  Yet I know that I won’t have the long-term energy to be joyful unless I carry modest expectations.