Tuesday 1st December 2015
Processing, Processing
I am still processing the good news we received yesterday, that I am cancer-free. It is going to take time for me to make the transfer from my status as patient (VIP receiving wonderful care and attention and being continuously affirmed) to cancer survivor, normal person (ordinary). This is not something I had even thought about before, although I should have been forewarned by one of the nurses on the Ricky Grant chemo unit when she said that many people really miss coming in for their regular chemo once it is all over. I said, “Oh no, not me – I can’t wait for this to be over!” but I now realise what she was talking about – there is almost a sense of bereavement when all the hospital appointments stop and one emerges from the bubble where one is so valued and so beautifully cared for. This could explain why I am feeling quite fatigued at the moment, and also fairly low in spirits. This “bereavement” is combined with a reaction to everything that’s happened this year, together with the “closing statement” that I am now cancer free, and also a normal M.E. reaction to emotional and/or physical stress. What a rollercoaster of a year it’s been, and now that it’s officially over, it is all catching up with me. No wonder my creative mojo has totally fled for the moment!
This evening my hubby and I went out for a celebratory Chinese meal, during which I tried to explain to him the conflict of emotions I am experiencing at the moment, and how I wish my response to our good news could be the uncomplicated joy and relief that he is experiencing – I told him I was so happy for him that he felt this way, and how right it was. I think he understood that there were other issues where I was concerned, which I need to process and come to terms with before I make the final adjustment.
My main message for today, I think, has to be that I originally thought that the news that I was cancer-free would be the cut-off point marking the end of my cancer journey which has lasted for most of this year, but in fact it is not a cut-off point at all, but just another stage on the ongoing journey.
I always considered my journey this year as falling into four stages:
1. Diagnosis and preparation for treatment;
2. Surgery, and recovery from it;
3. Learning to manage Kermit, my stoma;
4. Chemo, and recovery from it.
After this I was anticipating being told that I was cancer free (which I was), and then I could consider the journey to be ended, and I could rejoice and celebrate, and then move on and get my life back. Period.
However, the journey doesn’t end with 4 above, but continues with:
5. Adjustment to my new situation, reviewing and consolidating all I have experienced since mid-January, facing and processing complex emotions and dealing with them, shedding the negative ones and embracing the positive ones, and gradually moving forward into my new normal life.
Looking at it this way, there is no cut-off point at all, but a gradual transition. Over the coming months and years, during which I shall have further blood tests and scans and occasional appointments with the oncologist, which will create their own anxieties and throw-backs which will have to be dealt with, I will gradually progress from patient to ordinary person and all of this year’s experiences will be internalised and hopefully forge my character more strongly and help me become a better person.
I am quite glad that I was diagnosed at the beginning of this year, and that being declared cancer-free came towards the end of the year. This makes 2015 into a nice neat package containing the visible part of the journey, and with the advent of 2016 I can embark on a new beginning with a fresh year in which to deal with Phase 5.
In my body will be the continual reminder of what I have been through, in the form of Kermit, and possibly the peripheral neuropathy if it is ongoing, and I want to use these to keep me on track, reminding me to count my blessings daily, and also never to take anything for granted, and to be grateful for all that has been done for me to save my life and turn me from victim to survivor. For neatness’ sake it would almost be good if the peripheral neuropathy did remain, because then I would have two separate reminders: Kermit would remind me of my life-saving surgery, and the neuropathy would remind me of my life-saving chemo. No – not really lol! I shall be very glad to be rid of the PN!!
I am not saying I want to dwell in the past, but rather, to take the important experiences of the past and bring them with me into my present and future and use them for my benefit and for the benefit of others.
