September 23rd, 2014.
It’s been almost ten years since I had my last day of chemotherapy which I mark as the end of my battle with cancer. The doctors might say I didn’t fully get the all-clear until December when they unzipped me from my nipples to my navel and ripped out a bunch of lymph nodes, which was even more fun than it sounds, but I’m the one who had cancer. I get to decide when, and if, I want to celebrate.
When I was diagnosed with cancer I thought my life would never be the same. Ten years on and, well, my life pretty much returned to what it was before cancer, with a few changes. I’m not as casual about my health as I used to be but I’m also not one of those people who, having been through cancer, decided to quit their job, sell their house, move to Suriname, take up skydiving, become professional jugglers, and never wear shoes again. I’ve heard of people doing things like that but how many really do? I suspect there are a lot more people who, like me, go through cancer and then go back to normal life but with a deeper sense of gratitude for what we have.
Growing up in the 1980’s I remember cancer being a terrifying thing. It didn’t have the same social stigma as AIDS—which was unnecessary and made a terrible disease even worse—but it was still something people whispered about. Childhood cancer was the subject of after school specials I saw on TV meant to teach kids how to cope with their own morality, or the loss of someone they loved, because in those specials cancer was always a death sentence. And I’ve had real friends who had cancer, who went into remission then had it come back.
In spite of all that I really didn’t know much about cancer. I wasn’t prepared for the fact that “cancer” is a pretty general term for a whole group of diseases, some of which are easier to treat than others. Being told I had cancer was a shock; a few days later a doctor whom I’d only see once, very briefly, came into my hospital room to tell me the test results showed what I had was very treatable and had a good chance of being cured. Then he left and I sat there thinking about how “cured” was never a term I’d heard applied to cancer.
Ten years later it would be easy to think I am cured, but the truth is it’s easier to think that there’s no such thing. After I finished chemotherapy I was seeing my oncologist every few months. Then it was twice every year. Now it’s down to once a year. At this point we may go to every other year, though I don’t know if I’m ready for that just yet.
Ten years without cancer is a big deal. It’s big enough that I could move on, and perhaps going back to life pretty much as it was, not making any dramatic changes, is bigger than completely changing everything. I didn’t let cancer change me, at least not entirely. But it’s also not something I’ll forget. I’m the one who had cancer. I get to decide when, and if, I want to really let it go.
Big cause to celebrate and you know better than anyone. Thanks for sharing mister!
Thank you–and here’s to many more to come.
Congratulations on ten years! Celebrate how and when you please!
My husband had a diagnosis of Hairy Cell Leukemia last year. A very treatable, slow, dumb cancer. He did a week of chemo, waited a year for his numbers to recover, and now he’s back, basically where he was.
Except that he did a few of the major life change things you mention. It’s major to me, anyway – he quit his job and started freelancing. He also went ten rounds with his faith (which I did in my teen). It’s been a lot, but I’m excited for him, and we’ll see what “next” looks like.
I’m so relieved your husband’s cancer was not only slow, dumb, and treatable but also that, healthwise at least, things are back to normal, and that it prompted him to make some changes that I hope have made him happier. Funny enough faith was never something I dealt with while going through cancer but a couple of friends of mine, very thoughtfully and compassionately, shared with me that my cancer made them examine their own beliefs. That was a good thing.
The best reason to celebrate anything! So happy your health is still good—I think we’ve been following each other for almost ten years too. Stay healthy—what would I do without you?????
mydangblog recently posted…Phoning It In
Ack, I’ve managed to be even later than usual in replying to this comment even though I read it shortly after you posted it but the good news is I’m still counting time. And so glad to be here and, even though we’ve never met in person, glad to call you a friend.
Celebrating with you, Chris, every day.
Thank you for being here to celebrate with me, Ann.