Since last writing about my scanxiety, I did not take my own advice about taking deep breathes and thinking positive thoughts. Instead, I let myself believe that the cancer was back, that my life would be put on hold again, and that I’d be going back to a life without hot dogs.
To be honest, being positive is quite exhausting. Sometimes it feels like you’re putting up a front, nodding and agreeing with people when they say “I know it’ll all be ok.” Like do you really? Are you God? If you know everything, then what really happened to Amelia Earhart? And is there actually going to be a Game of Thrones spin-off? Riddle me that.
I know that’s harsh, because that person was just trying to help. And I appreciate that. But it can be frustrating when you’re in a doom and gloom kind of mentality.
I let the scanxiety get the best of me. The day after my scans last week, I worked myself up so much that I actually threw up. Like a lot. Something was not right inside me.
And today, as I sat in the waiting room watching people go in and out of the infusion center, fill out their first appointment paperwork, and bitch about the waiting times (NYP I know you’re working on it but come on), I thought about how that was me less than a year ago. And I got this feeling that it would be me again.
I don’t like being uncertain about things. And not knowing things. That’s why I’m pretty nosey. So not knowing what my body is up to on a microbiological level scares the bajeezus out of me. Some days I just wanna get in Ms. Frizzle’s magic school bus and say wuzzup to my cells. I’d be like “hey guys everything good? No one mutating today? Great! Gotta get back to not being in an animated children’s’ TV show, see ya!”
I prepared for, and pretty much expected, the worst. For no reason. Like I’ve said. There were no symptoms or lumps or bumps. I just became a crazy person.
They called my name and I shot up and walked into exam room 21. I saw the physician assistant, Stephanie, with a big smile on her face. I was gonna be ok.
“Your scans look fantastic!”
A wave of emotion took over and I felt weightless. I could’ve walked out at that moment and either ran a marathon or took down Joey Chestnut in a hot dog eating competition. Either one. Maybe both.
From there, the appointment was just kind of like a social meeting. Sure, I had a health assessment done, but we caught up on life, on what I’m up to, which is nothing. But nothing is good. Today, the expression “No news is good news” was totally appropriate. Except for that my doctor is pregnant which got me all emotional. Idk if it’s because I love babies or if because it’s that fact that her life is normal despite having gone through chemo and cancer and hair loss. That news is good news.
I am exactly three months cancer-free. And it’s been three of the best months of my life. I’ve been living and growing and appreciating and laughing and eating all the things I couldn’t and hanging out and getting tan.
I already know my next scans are in October, and I’ll probably have the same freak out and think my roommate from hell has moved in to the city with me. But I’ll keep that at bay until the time comes. Because for now, I don’t have cancer.
LIFE IS GUHD.