The past month has been the hardest, emotionally and physically, of this entire experience. Other than Dr’s appointments, I have hardly left the house. I’ve been living the past six months in protected bubble, where I only let approved information in, where Doctors attend to my every sniffle, where I know I’m safe.
Now that I’m officially “cancer free”, it’s time to leave the bubble. While I’m still recovering from surgery, and have radiation ahead of me, I’m out of the woods. I should be jumping up and down for joy, but all I can do is cry. I’m scared, and frankly, really really sad. It feels a bit like post partum depression.
Yesterday I learned that a co-worker from Bose, who has been out of work at the same time as I have due to a battle with Leukemia, has died. What right do I have to be so depressed, when I’m here to feel it? My heart goes out to her family, for all that they’ve gone through, as I know mine has, throughout her battle. And for all the pain they will have to endure as they come to learn what their new “normal” is.
All I want is for life to go back to “normal”. I yearn for boring. But I know that my old normal is not my new normal. I’m going to have to figure out what that is. I go back to work in four weeks, and I look forward to the routine, to seeing my friends, to feeling accomplished. But I’m also full of anxiety and sadness about it as well. To go to work, I have to leave my bubble, which is pretty scary.
I have a cold right now, and as I have for the past six months, immediately called my surgeon to notify him. I was told to take some Sudafed – “good luck”. Huh? I shouldn’t rush to the emergency room? No X Rays or concern for my safety? You say I’m OK? My bubble is dissappearing around me, and I still have four weeks to stay in it!
I haven’t posted to my blog in the past month, but today I did. I haven’t left the house, but today I’m going for a drive – directly to the therapists office. I’m putting one foot in front of the other, and will continue to do so until it feels normal…
Dear Trish,
The bubble wasn’t real; normal is redefined every day, and it’s perimeters expand and shrink constantly. Love is real, you are loved. YaYa
Trish,
Every day will get easier to live with the fact that you will live. Today I told Ed that I just realized my next CT-Scan is in one month, and I hadn’t even realized it til yesterday. For the first time in over 3 years, I am not “living” for the results of my next CT-Scan. So it may take time, and for each of us it is different, but life will go back to normal, and you, your family and friends, learn a life lesson, not to take life for granted, and to live for each day. I know it sounds so cliche, but it is so true. So happy you and I are both part of the “Cancer-Free” club. I hope we both stay members forever! Melissa
Trish,
I’m so glad to read that you’ve coped so well with your treatment, enduring the depression that hits, and enjoying the good times. As a fellow cancer “survivor,” though, I’m surprised to hear that anyone on your medical team would deem you “cancer free.” I was told that unfortunately, you don’t know you’re cancer free until you die of something else. Microscopic leftover cancer cells can’t be detected at this time. I struggle with this, but the term that my doctors use is “No Evidence of Disease (NED).” I’m hoping that someday I will be free of fear when scan time comes!
You’re an inspiration – stay well.