I was waiting for my regular check in with my oncologist today when I read this, and it broke my brain too. I donāt think I realized how much guilt I feel over surviving. My life hasnāt really changed very much since my diagnosis and treatment ā my spiritual life is still pretty shitty. Iām still avoidant. I spent a lot of time hiding from life instead of living it. Iām trying but probably not hard enough.
I assumed cancer was my wake up call and while it probably was, I spend an inordinate amount of time feeling afraid Iām not living up to it. Almost scared that despite having an intervention that was truly miraculous, Iām not doing what Iām supposed to be doing now that Iām still alive. Iām not grateful enough. Iām not living life enough. Iām not taking risks and loving people enough. I donāt volunteer.
I donāt want to spit in Godās face, giving me this chance and honestly, I felt like I have. Like Iām blowing it. It makes me scared that I donāt have the capacity for big changes so reading this was like dipping my head in a cool bucket of relief.
Maybe I made all that up in my head and I donāt have to worry if Iām not living up to some big cosmic expectation. I feel like Iām failing every day but maybe itās OK to still hate hiking, not āuse my giftsā and love watching YouTube until 1 PM.
Or that just might be an excuse for being really, really lazy. On my tombstone, it will read āshe could not be trusted with her life, so maybe itās good that itās over.ā
I know myself well enough that I use humor in these appointments, especially with my oncologist who is hilarious in her own right. So I wrote down some questions. I talked about the burning sensation in my boob that I felt a few days ago, but that itās gone now. She said not to worry about it, but if it comes back and stays, to let her know. I mentioned feeling a pain when I moved my arm almost in my rib cage and I worried it was cancer in my bones and she reminded me that I fractured a rib during radiation, and that they were keeping an eye on it. They didnāt mention it at the time because I was having a pretty rough time of it, but then we laughed that I have such a high pain tolerance, I didnāt really even notice it until I complained about it hurting a little bit about three months after it happened.
So sheāll do a chest CT next February and Iāll know more then but she said they rarely come back when itās this type of fracture, so Iāll just live with it.
Thereās a lot to live with ā the neuropathy in my foot that I donāt know if itās getting better or if Iām just used to it, but she did say that by now, itās permanent. Iām really lucky that itās not worse than it is. I can still walk just fine, run, exercise all I want to, so itās really too bad that I hate to exercise. It doesnāt impact my mobility at all, itās just a silent little reminder of that nightmare, though, and of course I feel it right at night before I go to bed when itās quiet which is a delight.
So I got all my questions answered. We talked about the anxiety of reoccurrence and how it ebbs and flows, but when it has you and itās grip, it is incredibly tough to deal with. I was relieved to hear that thatās normal and she said it gets better over time. Itās like grief ā it never goes away, it just gets easier to carry.
We spent the rest of the time laughing. I told her I probably need therapy but instead, Iām targeting all of my unexpressed rage and trauma on people online, especially those wellness grifters who recommend apricot seeds and ivermectin instead of chemotherapy, scaring young mothers away from traditional treatment and killing them in the process. I got pretty animated and said āi fucking hate those assholes and I love tearing them apart onlineā. To which she replied, āGOOD. I hate them too. They kill people. Tell them I said so and to fuck offā and we laughed until we had tears on our eyes. God I love her.
I made my six month appointment before I left because I told her sheās like the most popular restaurant in San Francisco, impossible to get a table. She turned around and said āthatās what happens when youāre the best.ā Then she glanced at my labs, told me Iām still anemic, probably forever, gave me a peace sign and left.