The Story is Not Over . . . Moving on from the Cancer Blog, but not Moving on from Cancer

It’s been a while since I have tapped on my keyboard. I could say I have been busy writing my book but that would not be completely factual. I have to admit my mind is a bit of a scattered space. Yes, I have written, but not even close to what I should be doing. Most of my time is spent working on my new role with my company and managing through the big move from Canada to the US. I would be lying if I said I haven’t spent a significant amount of time trying to keep my brain from being distracted with the whole reoccurrence idea. Are you fucking (I am torn about using these descriptive words, however, you need to use language that makes an impact, so . . . ) Are you fucking kidding me! Five years! Five years until I am out of the weeds. Five years I have to keep thinking about a reoccurrence? This is what runs through my mind on a daily basis, oh wait, a weekly basis. Come on! Who am I kidding, this is all I think about!

Yes I have received the all clear from the docs, but for some reason as I have mentioned before, my mind and body have not agreed with the doctor’s prognosis. My body continues to reel from all the drugs that were pumped into my body, and the cancer that inflicted me. My bones, muscles and body are not ready to work like they did before I was feeling like I didn’t have cancer. Remember, I was feeling great even after I was diagnosed with cancer. However, once I was in knee deep into my cancer treatment, I handed my body over to cancer. Vomiting, tiredness, aches, pains, and feelings I had no clue what do with is what I dealt with on a daily basis. And now onto the emotions — the part that you truly have no control over. If you think you do, you are lying to yourself. For some reason I expected that the moment to docs told me my body was clean and had no cancer in it, I would feel like an extremely large weight would be removed from my shoulders. That was not the case. Not even close. I can feel and envision that day in the doctor’s office as if it were just a few hours ago. The doctor walked in, sat down at the desk across from me and Greg, and said “Bobbie you are all good.” Me “What? What does that mean?” Doc “The results have come back that you have no more cancer.” Me “Does that mean I am in remission? Complete remission?” Doc “Yes that does.”

Wow! Well then why in the fuck was I not happy? Even more, after several months, why am I still not happy? I know I have expressed these feelings previously. Guess what? They are not gone. I am getting comfortable with the realization this will not happen until I get through five years of the doctors telling me I am still clean. I have my first post-cancer appointment next month. This will be the first step of calming my nerves. Right now the nerves are highly sensitive and I definitely need something to take me down a notch.

I can tell it’s bad when taking a shower becomes a difficult task again and I need to start holding onto the shower walls. Just yesterday I stood in the shower and the hot water pounded on my face. Will I be okay when Abbey, my little angel, looks me in the eyes and tells me she doesn’t want me to leave her? She doesn’t want me to die. As I stood there gripping for dear life so I didn’t get swallowed down the drain between my legs, I felt okay with the thought of leaving her. Leaving both my little angels, leaving my amazing life partner and husband, leaving my family and saying goodbye to all my friends. I saw myself looking at Abbey a few years from this moment, telling her it’s okay. It’s time for me to go and she will be okay. She will be a strong, caring and loving girl. All the things I taught her and all the things she has had to endure will help her move on without me.

Why oh why does my brain have to be filled with these crazy feelings? Because . . . because every trigger I manage through sets me back. What is a trigger? A trigger is a current moment in your mind that takes you back instantly to a negative, difficult, angry or hurtful moment in your past. You may want to double check this with Miriam Webster as this is my definition of trigger. Unfortunately I have had many triggers lately. These triggers include a commercial on tv for Neulasta which is a steroid shot that you may need while going through chemo. Another trigger for me could be hearing news of another one of my friends or an acquaintance passing away from this awful disease. It could also be finding out another friend or person has had a reoccurrence of cancer when they had a similar diagnosis as me. And I have to say that the last trigger is the one that has messed me up the most.

I had an aggressive form of breast cancer but I also had the most aggressive treatment for my cancer. I had the strongest dose of chemo every two weeks with a total of eight treatments, along with a bilateral mastectomy. So I should be good, right? Well, based on what I have seen and heard recently that doesn’t mean shit. Cancer doesn’t give a fuck how aggressive your prior treatment was. It decides if it wants to come back and it will knock you down if it so decides to. So here I sit with every ache and pain wondering if that awful disease is slowly feeding its way through my body.

These thoughts continue to cripple me, and the only thing I can relate the next five years to is purgatory. I sit here wondering if am I going to go to heaven or hell. And unfortunately the way the mind works, I keep thinking hell. I know this is not healthy, and that I need to push these crazy thoughts out my head. The big move from Canada to the US will help. Also, writing this entry will also help. However, I need to work better on pulling from my faith.

Faith . . . this word is very personal for each individual. Faith is what you believe in. Faith is what gets you through the day. Faith is what makes you fight harder. Faith is what makes you want to be a better person. So I must pull from my faith. I need to dig deep in my soul and focus on the prize. The five year mark. Every moment I waist focusing on a reoccurrence is a moment cancer wins. A moment I don’t give to my children or my amazing husband. A moment I will never get back. I need to remind myself . . . cancer doesn’t deserve another moment in my life. I must have faith.