I'm still on the cancer-brick road...

Two weeks from today on July 13th will mark 4 years since my oncologist told me that my thyroid cancer was in remission. As I approach that milestone I realize how much my body has gone through, how many emotions I've gone through. And I also realize that I'm still on that path to accepting it and understanding it all.

I realize now that for so much of my treatment I was in shock and maybe even denial. Between having cancer and losing my father to cancer, I have learned something about myself. When I see trouble coming, I am famous for saying to my husband "I can't do this". But when trouble comes along and takes me by surprise (and cancer has done this to me twice now) I am able to go on autopilot. I am able to be strong and motor on through. I remember the day I was diagnosed so clearly. It was quite surprising as I'd been told that I did not have cancer. I went in to have my incision checked on. I felt like a little girl sitting there while my surgeon carefully and tenderly removed my steri-strips and gently told me that I had cancer. I didn't cry. My life didn't flash before my eyes. I didn't worry if I would die. I said "ok, what next?" The only question I could think of when he asked me if I had any questions was "Am I going to lose my hair?". I was on auto-pilot. And I stayed that way for months.

Gradually I had breakthroughs of anger and sadness. I was angry that it happened to me. I was angry for how it changed my life. I was sad that it happened to me. And I was sad that it was so hard to get people to understand how I was feeling. I am currently reading Kelly Corrigan's book "The Middle Place". She puts it into words better than I can...

"They talked about cancer like it was something to get through, to treat, to beat. They never said that it was going to change everything, all my plans, and take things away from me that I had wanted since I was a child. They said it was gonna be a bad year. So doesn't that mean that when the bad year is over, when you do everything you are told to do--and with a goddamn smile, no less--you get to go back to the life you had?"

As I'm reading this book, I realize how little of my feelings I've really processed. The things that Corrigan says in her book make me wonder if she's reading my mind. She puts into words the things I felt and still feel about my cancer perfectly. The things I haven't said to anyone either because I couldn't label how I was feeling or because I just knew that it wouldn't be received well. I realize that long ago I stopped trying to talk about what I was feeling because it made other people uncomfortable. Or sometimes what they said would make me uncomfortable. Because they didn't really understand and it was hard for me to help them understand.

Cancer has changed my life forever. In some ways for the better. It has given me insight that I might not have had otherwise. It's made me more empathetic. But it took things from me too. It took the otherwise healthy body I had away from me. It created new fears in my mind where I had none. It changed my plans for my life. It changed who I am. It put me in the category of the others....those who have experienced cancer or a life threatening or serious illness. It made me battle-weary.

I have looked forward to that 5 year remission goal for some time. One more year and I'm there. One more year until I'm insurable again. I'm a lower risk. But I know now that there's nothing magic about the number 5. My cancer could recur at any time. For those who call it "the good cancer", did you know that I might never be cured? What's good about that?

From thyca.org:
"While the prognosis for most thyroid cancer patients is very good, the rate of recurrence can be up to 30%, and recurrences can occur even decades after the initial diagnosis. Therefore, it is important that patients get regular follow-up examinations to detect whether the cancer has re-emerged. Monitoring should continue throughout the patient’s lifetime."

That fact sits in the back of my head all the time. Winding up with thyroid cancer in the first place at my age was a small chance. So I don't put a whole lot of faith in that only 30% have a recurrence and that I'll fall in the other 70%...after all my cancer was Stage III. I don't obsess over it, but it's there lurking.

So while I know I'm great at auto-pilot when I need to push through a crisis, I also realize now that I have to deal with what I'm feeling. I have to do it whether it's uncomfortable for me or anyone else. It's okay to still be sad or angry about having cancer even though I'm enjoying my 4th year of remission. It's okay to not be finished with emotional journey that cancer has tossed me on. I realize that there is a difference between obsessing over what was or what could have been and dealing with how this feels.

As I continue to be vigilant with my check-ups, I shall continue to be honest with myself about how this feels. Hiding cancer away in a dark corner only allows for it to become a stronger force in my life while I'm not paying attention. Out in the light I can fight back, knowing what I'm up against.