Scanxiety

That is probably a made-up word to you, but every single cancer patient knows what that word means.

It’s the scary feeling before you have your cancer scans done. That could be a CT scan, MRI, PET scan, or some other scan related to checking out any lurking cancer in your body. I am still going every 3 months but by December I should be switching to check-ups once every 6 months. Ironically, I am not looking forward to the long stays away from the Oncologist…

No, I don’t want scans done every three months forever, but I like having that safety net. I hope that my cancer stays gone FOREVER but once you’ve heard the bad news once, it’s hard for your brain to think it won’t happen again. And honestly, I think it would be more devasting hearing it’s back for a multitude of reasons but mainly because now you know what to expect. I had no idea what chemo was like or losing all my hair or having a catheter in my chest but now I do, and I never want to do any of that again.

I can’t speak for others but the scans themselves aren’t that bad. My CT scans usually last around 15-20 minutes (with contrast). I know as I am lying on that table that these results hold my future, but I usually toss that aside when I leave. It’s when I’m sitting in the waiting room of my Oncologist’s office that the anxiety kicks into overdrive. A lot of different memories come back to me when I am in that environment. It’s weird because that place has brought me so much joy and yet so much pain. They have told me some of the best news in the world and some of the worst. The epitome of bittersweet.

I have only been blessed with good news and I wish every cancer patient got to experience that. It’s truly hard living a post-cancer life. To me, it’s worse than having cancer itself because although the cancer has left my body, the thought of it never leaves my mind.

My scans are at the end of this month, so if you are reading this send your good vibes/prayers my way. I would appreciate it! Thanks!

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Cancer made me…happier?

I feel like I have gone through my cancer story with so many people over the past year and a half, but I only tell them the facts. I say when I was diagnosed, what my treatment plan was, how long it took for my hair to grow back and so on and so forth. However, the one thing I feel like I haven’t shared with people is the emotional side of my journey. This is the much more vulnerable and less talked about side of cancer. How does someone even ask how a cancer patient is doing? I even struggle with this. I visited a sarcoma patient who was starting his own journey about a year ago and even though I sat in the very SAME chair as he was, I really didn’t know what to say. “You’ve got this?” Every cancer patient is so different that it’s hard to gauge what is helpful. I wanted to remain positive and keep everything light-hearted, but I don’t blame the people that get sad and upset. No matter what age you are, it is sobering news to hear that you have cancer. In my particular case, I had a 6-week-old daughter when they told me the news. I had finished up college a few months before that. I was ready to start my life with my new family and hopefully get a career going but everything was put drastically on hold.

I can honestly say I didn’t wallow in the news. I had a good cry the day I was diagnosed and then it was time to fight. It was time for me to make sure I was here for my daughter. However, even though I remained positive and light-hearted throughout my journey, I was very scared. I mean I would be lying if I say I didn’t think about death. Although there are much better rates for survival in today’s society, when most people think of cancer their minds instantly go to death. I mean that’s what I did as well. It seems like people only remember the tragic stories…

I would say that my chemo was a little atypical from what most cancer patients go through. Many go in for an infusion for a few hours a day every couple of weeks, but I was inpatient for 5 days every three weeks until my six rounds were over.  One of the IV bags I had ran for 5 days straight. (I really hated that bag on my last day of chemo because it felt like it was never done!) To be completely honest, the hospital was absolutely boring and the food was extremely disgusting. During my last three chemo, I only had one leg, so I felt even more confined in my hospital bed.

However, even though I was “sick,” I never really felt that way. I did my 5 days in the hospital and usually within 48 hours I was back into the swing of my normal life outside the hospital. I know I was one of the lucky ones. I have heard horror stories of the side effects of chemo. Mouth sores, chemo brain, nausea, and the list can go on and on but aside from not feeling like eating or drinking during the last few days of chemo and after chemo, I really felt the same. And I have to say that not feeling different is the part that unnerved me. Sometimes I would even wonder if the chemo was even working with how basically “normal” I felt but everything worked out in the end!

The worst part of cancer may not be actually having it; it may be when you’ve fought the beast and return to normal life with scans every three months looming in the shadows. When I was first diagnosed, I never lived like I had death on my shoulder but now I do. I shudder when those quickest three months roll around and I am lying in front of that CT machine. I still think it’s cruel to make patients wait days for results. Results that literally make or break your future. I want to be there for other cancer patients, but I also want to remove myself from the community. It’s a loving community with some amazing people but it reminds me of a place I don’t want to be again. However, I try to shake off that feeling because I hope to inspire people with my story. I want to show people you can rise above a bleak cancer diagnosis and thrive. I can probably say that I live a more fulfilled and happier life than ever…all thanks to dumb, old cancer.