1. The cancer is never "done". It is a wraith that follows you, making you wonder if and when it has returned. Because you now know it's completely out of your control.
2. Your knowledge about health, diet and exercise is heightened.... But also useless. There are dudes on YouTube telling you to eat a raw diet when they had a completely different type of cancer and yours feeds on the natural hormones in your body. Being "aware* of osteoporosis when the medication you have to take *CAUSES* osteoporosis, isn't really helpful at all!
3. Think think think before you tell a cancer survivor to be strong. What does that mean exactly? Don't ask for too much help? Don't let yourself cry over your mortality? Don't admit that you think this is bullshit? When we hear "you're so strong" - I at least hear - "you're only allowed to be strong. We will not let you slip up." I was strong because I had to be. I am strong because who exactly is going to pick up the pieces if I fall apart?
4. We will never be the same. I cannot go back to an innocence about my health or my mortality. Every shitty thing that happens to us creates a little divide from other people... It's just the truth. I know what it's like to have cancer, when many are oblivious. I know what it's like to lose a parent, been there since I was 17. Empathy can only go so far - so you live with a grief and a personal knowledge that a bulk of people around you don't get. And when you are punished or considered difficult for no longer being who you were before a doctor said "you have cancer", you are further isolated.
5. Some people run towards you and some run away - and I am not in the mental space yet to NOT take that very personally. If my brush with death wasn't enough for you to consider my humanity or to let go of your petty expectations for me... How else am I supposed to interpret that? My life feels pretty damn personal.
6. Cancer clarifies. The circles of people around you shift. Logically, I know that other peoples' behavior is a reflection of who THEY are, not whether I deserve what they're giving me. Emotionally, it really bothers me. I'll give grace to a stranger being rude on public transportation. This is a big world. We are walking around in personal solar systems that will bump into others. But it's the people that want to get into your car, your personal space, claim some sort of knower-ship about you and then ride along without input, support or kindness... nah. Enduring a life-altering event seems like a good time to reassess. Who actually listens to me? Who tries? Who was waiting for me to "look better" before they resumed hating me openly? Strangers roped in to show me that they wanted me to live, while several family members roped waaaay out, showing that they couldn't be bothered.
7. Lack of control in the medical sphere can make patients double, triple, quadruple down on the areas of their life that they can control. For the last three years, I've been on a leash connected to my appointments, blood tests, pre-surgical checklists and the pharmacy. The leash gets longer, the time between appointments goes from every other week, to monthly, to 3 months apart. That's the longest leash I've been on since 2023. Three months without a needle in my arm or my abdomen. As a person who likes to plan into the future - this is a challenge. I stare at the calendar that is taped to the medical reception desk. I used to look at that when I went a whole YEAR in between check ups. When the gynecologist asked, should I make the appointment a year from now? Pre-cancer me would shrug and say, "why not?" Now I am trying to schedule the next bone infusion appointment so it doesn't ruin the weekend of an important family event in June.
8. There is no guidebook on how much to talk or not talk about being sick. The hair grows back, the scars fade. Bra prosthetics hide imbalances. A Thursday morning visit to a clinic and then Friday to the massage therapist and Saturday acupuncture. No one needs a play by play of your appointments, but how else does one comvey that cancer is still a huge part of the schedule?
9. The concept of gratitude will continue to be murky. I now have a circle of women in my life that I never would have known without being a part of survivorship programs. They are everything I would have loved in a normal book club, but a cancer book club! I would have liked getting to know them on a good day but REALLY like knowing them on bad days. So what is the name of the emotion for being grateful for friends, but not the situation that made you friends in the first place?
10. There is no healing without safety. And there is no guarantee of safety. There is only the best we can do with the knowledge that we have. When new knowledge is available, make sense of it and apply where needed. I wish there was a cap to put on the salve we need for our hearts and minds to heal. Apply once a day, discard after encountering one too many MAHA advice columns about raw milk and "Chemo is poison". Do not mix with trying to run a 10k again when your body can only do soft yin yoga. Apply to clean, unbroken skin and call a medical professional if you develop a fever. Apply with art therapy and days of renewal. Do not use if it's been tampered with. Trust your brain on the days you can see the positive and watch with caution on the days it is telling you that you are too broken. Be the safest person you've ever needed.
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