This morning I had an appointment with the Radiation Oncolocgist and it brought back those initial feelings of fear and uncertainty. She did nothing wrong. All she did was react to the 36 year old with 2 kids, much like her, from Long Island (also like her - she went to Smithtown East!) who discovered a lump. I think she was stunned to be honest. She came in and said something like "you're the good news, bad news patient" meaning that I'd gotten such bad news but it then turned to such good news with no trace of cancer in the last biopsies.
But what rings in my ears all day is her saying "if your cancer comes back" and suggesting additional radiation points because 'she'd been burned by those lymph nodes in the past'. I guess I wanted her to say something more along the lines of 'Any radiation treatment is just icing on the cake'. I wanted her to be positive about the fact that my cancer is gone. And for good. I do not want her to imply anything short of me not having to go through a cancer diagnosis again ever. I know that she can't do that.
It brought up those fears that have been stuffed way down since the good-news roll started. I need to stable myself again on the certainty that I felt after I saw Dr. Heerdt. I need to get this doctor to share that positive take, I can give her some time to get to know what kind of patient I am. I am not the one that wants to shiver in fear of what could, what might happen, afraid to be that 10% who have recurrence. I'd put that possibility out of my mind after the "complete response to the chemo" papers were handed to me.
One of the things that she said today was that clearly if at 35 my body grew cancer that something was wrong. I guess. Or, clearly since my body grew cancer at 35 it was a fluke, and of course the chemo would work because I was strong and young enough to tolerate it. Is that so far out-there? Do they really know all that much about why and how? In a case like mine, where the biggest risk factor is "grew up on Long Island" what do they really know about when/if/how my body allowed the cancer to grow?
The frustration of why and how is the first thing to surface. I can go along and have a regular day 9 out of 10. But when I feel under-the-weather I wonder, is it from my treatment? my disease? or is it allergies or a simple cold? I spend time second guessing my health that I had always taken for granted. Of course it was just allergies, I'm not sick. Even in cancer treatment I said "I'm not sick" and that I don't think of myself as such.
Isn't denial great? I mean, really, what kind of fruit-loop goes to chemo thinking that she isn't really sick, she just has cancer. I still feel like I am not sick. I know that by definition I am, that I have this disease, but I refuse to believe that I am going to be unhealthy in general or that I will have cancer anymore. It's gone - and I think that all the microscopic bits were wiped out as well. Radiation is an extra treatment as a precautionary measure. And it's in the doctor's play-book. This is how the do it and it's the formula that they are comfortable with. It's what they believe in.
The trick is for me to believe in what we're doing. I go back to see the radiation oncologist on Thursday next week. That's when she is going to design the radiation plan; I'll be in a CTscan so that they can mark where the radiation will be aimed. Then the mark me with little tattoo marks (really??? or 'like' tattoos?) so that they can align me and the machine for each treatment. I have to go 30 times. Maybe I should count up 1 to 15 and then down from 15 to 0 like a marathoner. Maybe I can trick myself again into thinking it'll be quick. But really, it should be over by Thanksgiving. That is quick.
1 comment:
restart the anxiety ride?
to quote a dear friend of mine living in CT, 'that is not acceptable.'
and, the incredibly, jaw-dropping, insensitive [stupid] comments are best address in this marvelous video,
here's your sign.
me thinkest it is time for your instincts and innate pluckiness to kick in and find a much better doctor, jenn.
rather than stuff those fears, let's have a bonfire party with each fear written on a piece of paper to send them on the way, ok?
and this, too, shall pass.
love to you always,
c-pie
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