My Cancer After - Life

Pinktober has ended, but, for some of us, awareness is ongoing. September and October are odd and bittersweet for me. It marked the end of life as I knew it and the beginning of a different one. Life does change after a diagnosis of cancer…

After being here in Florida for a year, it was time to get some doctor appointments out of the way. I am normally afraid of the dentist and could not go during treatment. Once I was done, I did go for a cleaning before we moved and my teeth were fine. Chemo is brutal on the mouth and I did all I could to circumvent any issues. Still, it was well over a year since my last visit. New dentist was amazing and very reassuring. No mouth issues from chemo or anything, not even a cavity. Dentists can spot oral cancers and it is important to go and I am glad I did.

I’ve always gone for eye exams every year since I was 18. Probably around 4 years ago, I went to a local father / son practice in town, in NJ. During that exam, I was asked if I had a blood cancer/lymphoma. My heart sank and I began to sweat profusely as my father had Waldenstrom’s, a rare lymphoma. He said the curly blood vessels in my eyes were common for people with lymphomas. As I was walking out, I called my old optometrist, who mentioned the blood vessels in the back of my eyes have always looked like that since I was a teenager. Needless to say, I never went back and it sort of added to my anxieties about doctor visits. I did find a local practice here and came through with flying colors, no wonky shit going on!

After this summer, I was a tad over-due for a physical. I had been researching doctors since we moved here last year and couldn’t seem to find one that I thought I would connect with and trust. It’s different after having gone through the whole cancer thing. I wanted one who I could be frank and blunt with, someone proactive and no nonsense with compassion still. I did not want a huge practice where it would be difficult to get a hold of the doctor or that I’d have to see someone else but I didn’t want a tiny office either. I wanted the perfect practice with the perfect doctor. I had that back in New Jersey so why not here. I asked in various parent groups and around my own community. In the end, I went with one I never heard of before. I booked the appointment three weeks in advance, which meant three weeks of worry and anxiety. Probably silly to cancer muggles but to some of us survivors, there’s an element of PTSD at play. The mind gets to us.

I am a runner, like not a mile, more like 5-6 miles, daily. I like it, it’s fun, plus, it is good exercise. I began to worry that a hardcore workout with running and weights might skew things so I did not run the morning of but I did the day before. But what if it already skewed things? What if all the water I drink messes up my electrolyte levels? What if my liver enzymes are elevated and they think there’s something hiding there. I worry about my heart. ACTHP is no walk in the park on the body. I had four electrocardiograms to monitor for damage while in treatment and a final one at the end. All good. My ejection fraction never dropped and my EKG’s have all been perfect. I run and know I have no issues with fatigue or breathing, my heart doesn’t race either. Still, logic escapes me when it comes to medical things for myself.

I was in great health before my diagnosis of cancer. Healthy diet, lots of exercise and a healthy lifestyle. The results of my annual physicals were picture perfect. Cancer doesn’t care. I did all I could to maintain that while in treatment. If I could do things to help myself through the roughest chemotherapy, I was hell bent on doing it. I wanted to give my body every opportunity to heal and fight. I wanted my sons to see what it meant to be strong and take care of oneself. It worked.

After treatment, I kept it going. My workouts got bigger, my diet remained clean and I got stronger relatively quickly. I was still healthy, despite a cancer diagnosis. Yes, this is absolutely a possible thing. My cancer was not the result of my lifestyle nor anything I had done. It was the result of genetically rogue cells, not hereditary, plain and simple. That is the key. I do what I can to minimize my chances of it coming back. I do what I can to minimize my chances of things going wrong I know that there are no guarantees, but I can do things now to keep myself around for a long time. I was in excellent health before, during and now. I work hard for this and it is a conscious effort to remain this way. I don’t take my life and health for granted.

Getting back to my physical, it was great. I had no real reason to be as worried or as high strung as I had been. The results show that I am bouncing back and healing. I have an oncology appointment in a few short weeks and for the first time in over a year, I’m not stressed over it.

Medical appointments take on a whole new realm after a cancer diagnosis followed with surgeries and treatments spanning close to 18 months. I tend to be a little shell shocked, stumbling around this cancer after - life, like a zombie. Instead of looking for brains to satiate a need, I look for hope, anywhere and everywhere. Hope isn’t just the color pink, it’s not tangible. It’s a feeling we need to carry and share. If I can’t find it, I like to sprinkle a little out there, for the next zombie looking for comfort. May we all become a beacon of light for someone else, no matter where we are in our journeys in life.