I remember completing treatment. I was diagnosed in 2001, and if I remember right, my last IV chemotherapy treatment was January 22, 2002. I always went to chemo alone, I drove myself, so decided to take myself out to lunch to celebrate when I was driving home from my last treatment.
But I really didn’t feel like celebrating. I didn’t feel the joy I thought I should feel when I ate that celebratory lunch. I just remember feeling I’d lost my tools, I no longer had any way to fight my cancer, to keep it from coming back. From now on I’d just be waiting to find out if a single cancer cell escaped the peritoneal and IV chemotherapy and would cause my cancer to return. I actually tolerated chemotherapy well once we knew my side effects and how to prevent them. Chemo didn’t cause me nausea or make me tired. I’d never vomited because of the chemo. I was always able to eat well while on chemo. I trained for a bicycle century (riding 100 miles in one day) while on chemotherapy. I would have been happy to stay on chemo for the rest of my life!
Interesting, but everyone else felt I’d made it! I was done! I could go back to my before-cancer normal life! I was cancer free! They’d supported me through it all, now they could take a break!
But my before-cancer normal life was gone. I had to learn to live with uncertainty. I never knew if I would have a future. I’d read my cancer recurred 80% of the time. I couldn’t make plans for a vacation down the road. I could only plan my life between CT scans. If a CT scan was clean, then I could relax and enjoy my life until my next CT scans, every 3 months at first, then every 6 months for several years. I couldn’t plan vacations, I couldn’t even say the words “next year”.
Things got better when my scans were once a year, but I still lived with uncertainty. I still suffered “scanxiety” every time I had a CT scan, wondering if my cancer-free life would be over. Surviving 5 years helped, but not a lot. I’m old enough to remember when in the past, being cancer-free for 5 years meant you were cured. No one uses the “cure” word now. Even though I am currently an 18 year survivor, I am still not cured, just in “long term remission”.
Against medical advice, I quit getting CT scans and seeing an oncologist at about 10 years after my surgery. That gave me peace, helped me move forward, helped the uncertainty fade.
I know many will feel your struggle is over once your finish treatment, but in some ways, the struggle is just beginning when treatment is over. We need as much, maybe even more support, when we are no longer being treated for cancer.
When I was diagnosed with cancer, I was not given much hope. I was at one point told I was terminally ill, that I would not live. Even once I found treatment, I read about the odds of survival for signet ring cancer, none of the statistics were encouraging. I read that even with treatment, my cancer was 80% likely to recur within the first three years, so I did think a lot about dying and tried to prepare myself for that. One of the people who helped me most in my cancer journey was a friend who listened to me talk and cry about how I felt about dying, what I would leave and what I would leave undone. She didn’t tell me that I would be fine or that I should think positive, she just listened and understood. She also knew I might die.
When I contemplated dying I read MANY books (I’m a reader) about people who had had near death experiences. I read many books about the afterlife. I am truly convinced there is a heaven and that’s where I will go. And I don’t think I will be sitting on a cloud playing a harp. I believe I will have a real body like I have now, but one with no illnesses, one that is strong and healthy and young. I believe I will be able to eat great food! There are so many references to heavenly feasts in the Bible, and when Christ was resurrected and came back, he ate food with his disciples in his new body, we will too. I believe I will be busy with things I love to do and will never be bored! I look forward to heaven.
I could give you a big list of books I’ve read, but one of my favorites was “In Light of Eternity”.
I recommended that book to a friend who lost her young daughter, she said it really helped her.
Think of reading some books like these (or audiobooks if you don’t read!). I think they will help you. Even if we don’t die of our cancer, we still will someday, and it feels good to be prepared!
I didn’t remember until almost the end of the day that yesterday was the anniversary of the 2001 terrorist attack. I don’t watch the news, so had no reminders.
The terrorist attacks kind of weave into my cancer history. I was being treated for my cancer in New York City. After my initial surgery and recovery, I went to NYC every 3 months for follow-up with my surgeon and oncologist.
My final appointment in New York was to be September 5th, 2001. Just before my appointment scheduled for September 5th, my oncologist called me and told me she wouldn’t be available the 5th, that I needed to change my appointment to September 11. I told her no, I had already booked my hotels and flights, and besides, I was having chemo on the 11th and didn’t want to miss a day. She was unhappy with me, but said for this time and this time only we could do a phone conference.
For my first 3 month follow-up visit, since I was always there for a few days, my husband and I walked miles on the upper east side of Manhattan, supposedly the most expensive/richest zip code in the United States. My next appointment we explored midtown, where Carnegie hall, Times Square and Central Park are located.
My September 5th appointment we spent the days exploring the southern end of Manhattan; Greenwich village, Soho, China Town…..and the Twin Towers. I walked in front of the Twin Towers on September 6th and admired them.
I cam home on the 7th and went to my chemotherapy appointment on September 11th. I usually spent about 4 hours in chemo. On that day, when I walked in, all of the patients and nurses and physicians surrounded the TV, the Towers had just been hit.
We watched the coverage my whole chemo appointment, I couldn’t believe those great towers I had seen only days before were falling to the ground. I thought I probably passed many people on their way in and out of the Twin Towers when I walked in that part of the city. Maybe people who might have been in excellent health and who had just gone to the health club before work in the Twin Towers. People who jumped from the tower to avoid being burned to death.
I’d been so obsessed whether I was going to live or die, and so many lives ended unexpectedly that day. What if I had been walking in front of the Twin Towers that day?
Three months later, I had to go back to New York again. The depression in the city was palpable. The concierge at the hotel I always stayed at had had a child going to school near the Towers. There was no transportation that day so he ran many miles to the southern end of the Island to find his son, who had watched the plans hit the Twin Towers from his classroom. He said his son could no longer sleep alone.
We walked again in southern Manhattan and saw the large black hole in the ground where the Towers had been. The fencing was covered with quilts and photos commemorating those who had died. There were vendors selling memorabilia and CDs with films of the events that day. I bought a CD as a reminder.
I guess 2001 makes me remember that none of us are promised tomorrow. I don’t believe we should live every day as our last, that is too difficult, but I try now to be thankful for every day and what it brings.
I am a CASA, a Court Appointed Special Advocate for abused and neglected children. I work with children who have been removed from their home and their parents by the Department of Child Services as their living environment is considered unsafe. I represent them in court. This is a volunteer job.
As a nurse, I work at a residential treatment center for minor children who have also been abused and neglected most of their lives. Their histories are horrible, many were being raised by drug addicted parents, some of the children have gone to dumpsters to find food for themselves and their siblings, some have been sold into sex trafficking or to their parents drug dealers for sex. Some have spent their lives in multiple foster homes, some were abused in foreign orphanages before being adopted. Some were born addicted to cocaine.
I just returned from a national CASA Convention in Atlanta Georgia. They had three plenary sessions each day, which is unusual. Most conferences have one at the opening of the conference or maybe once daily. These sessions are attended by sometimes a thousand persons at a conference. Usually these sessions have important or famous guest speakers. I listened to more than 6 of these speakers. Many had been on Opra or CNN, most had written best selling books, all were famous in their own right. All were very successful adults.
All but one of the speakers had also been an abused and neglected child. Most had been in foster care.
It is said many of these abused and neglected children grown up to be unemployed, living in homeless shelters, in jail or in mental health institutions.
What was different about these individuals? They had all had all had difficult childhoods but had grown to become overwhelmingly successful adults.
All of them had had one person in their lives who had treated them well, who believed in them, who supported them, who told them they could one day succeed. Most who had made a difference to these speakers had just said something to them, sometimes just a few sentences.
I left the conference feeling how important maybe everything we say to another person is. We might be the one person who says just a few words that changes someone’s life.
I also have a friend who recently lost her daughter. She has been affected by just short statements people have made. Many statements have caused her pain, though some have helped.
It made me think of us as cancer patients. I know I was negatively affected sometimes by things people said…”I know you will survive this if you just think positive”, or “You are so lucky, you probably enjoy every day because you can live it like it’s your last”. Then there were the people who were silent but just stayed with me and let me cry…they helped me.
I’m sure all of you have been affected either positively or negatively by things people have said to you or done for you or to you. What has been helpful, and what has been hurtful in your dealings with people, even family, since you have been diagnosed? Who has made a difference in your dealings with this disease?
I would love it if you could share that in comments here. What have people done that has helped you in your struggle against this disease? What have people said or done that’s had a negative impact on you?