Frankly, a bit of me is scared now. Ironic really when the time to be scared of the cancer was when it was a real threat to me. But the not asking questions, not getting bogged down in the specifics of my diagnosis (I still can't reel it off like a lot of women can) have left me in an odd position. I’ve lost almost 11 months of building up resilience to the facts.
What I now know that I wish I didn’t:
1. There’s never a guarantee that the cancer won’t come back. You accept this, choose to live your life to the full or in anticipatory fear, and hope you’ll be one of the lucky ones. Choose? That’s a massive responsibility if you just can’t shake off that nagging fear.
2. Metastasis. I had no idea what it meant. But, like with ‘cancer,’ I keep coming across the word and variations of it (try saying metastasising with a swollen lip and a lisp) now. It’s a frightening thought.
3. Three aspects of my original cancer give cause for concern. I say ‘give’ because I’m only just realising it and haven’t worked through it. I would love to assume it was all past tense but I can’t make those blithe assumptions any more. I have to ask specific questions, even if I’m scared of the answers. What is the significance of “It even broke out in your skin?” Does that mean it had started metastasising? Have the treatments removed that risk? No margins for one of the lumps. I had no idea till recently what margins meant. Again, has the treatment dealt with that? Heavily node positive with suspect nodes in my chest wall (mentioned initially by Dr K after the CT scan but never confirmed as infected - but T, the adjuvant oncology nurse, said not to worry about it, I was No Evidence of Disease). Does that make me more vulnerable to metastasis? It’s all so frightening if I don’t look at it positively and continue to believe that nothing could have survived those treatments.
4. There’s no going back to how things were before. I say ‘it’s only a disease.’ It is and, until recently, I’ve been mystified by the apparent obsession with ‘fighting cancer.’ However, I’m beginning to grasp the idea that there’s an additional factor in cancer - I just can't pinpoint it yet. Is it the fact that we’re all educated to regard it with terror? Is it its potential to kill? Is it the way the barbaric treatment impacts on so many others besides yourself? Surely if I was diagnosed with a heart disease, the impact and fear would be as great? Apparently not. It seems to be accepted by everyone working in the field, and we’re encouraged to accept it, that we need to find a new normal that includes cancer in our life. I don’t get it. Presumably I will eventually.
So here I am, no longer 99.9% confident that I’m cancer-free, that I’m safe and all I have to do now is ride out the side effects. Where am I if I’m not 99.9% confident? Most of the time I’m 98% confident but I have moments when I’d say I’m more like 20% confident and have to rely on my logic to talk me back from that surge of adrenaline that signifies fear. This morning, I thought ahead to next Friday’s appointment. They’d have contacted me by now and called me in if there was any sign of any risk revealed by the MRI. That’s logic. Then a gentle surge of adrenaline sweeps through me (only gentle in comparison to my phobic panics which are beyond description but for now seem to be held at bay, if not a thing of the past). I could get a call this afternoon! Oh shut up Jan. Get back to the Land of Denial that served you so well. Only that’s no longer possible. Admission closed.
It could be because I feel so physically crap. Cutting out the gabapentin to eliminate the possibility that it’s the cause of my mouth and throat problems is all very well and, yes, as I told Dr Wong, I can distinguish now between the different kinds of pain now my ribs have healed. That doesn’t mean the pain isn't a problem. I’m down to 2 tablets (weaning myself off) and the pain in my chest wall is excruciating at times. But it’s twinges or brief moments when I’m caught off guard or in a perfectly natural (but for me impossible) position - like curled on my side. It’s not enough to warrant being on permanent medication in my opinion. Then there’s the neuropathy. What was a slight tingling of the leg nerve(s) is now a painful tingling. I have to make sure I don’t touch my legs or knock against anything because it bloody hurts. I have an itch inside the pad of my numb big toe. Try scratching a damaged nerve. I could go on and on, all these little pains exposed now I’m virtually off the gabapentin - and I still don’t know if it will help the dry mouth, the saliva problem, the difficulty swallowing. It makes sense that it will but it will be days before I can say yeah or nay.
Roll on next Friday. Chin up, shoulders back. Where’s my implicit faith I had before. Please come back....
Meantime, just look at this hair!
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