The waiting game
August 19 marked four years since my breast cancer diagnosis.
September 2 was this years scans.
I’d like to say I was confident the results would be good but that’s a lie.
I feel great (other than the extra weight due to my meds but that’s another story), I’m healthy and have no issues, soreness or lumps, and so you would think I’d be all yep, it’s going to be good.
You’d be wrong.
You see I didn’t have any of that before my diagnosis so in the back of my mind that’s not necessarily a good sign. In fact, in part, it’s a big red flag. Because my boobs tried to kill me in silence already. Why wouldn’t they do it again?
Which leads me to my other thought.
I’m never cancer free because I’m always worrying it’s lurking somewhere, going undetected.
Which is a f*cking mindtrip when your doctor says (and this is a direct quote) “as far as I’m concerned you’re cured.”
Yep. Not only am I cancer ‘free’ but according to my doctor I’m cured.
The only down side to my doctor’s words is I have to remain on the meds for another year. Oh, and I still need to see a bone doctor to work out if I need to switch my osteoporosis med.
But otherwise, I’m cured.
Why doesn’t it feel good?
Or even right?
I can’t quite explain how I’m feeling about my doctor’s words.
I should be happy, and don’t get me wrong, I am, but…
Why doesn’t it feel, right?
I know it’s good. The results are great. And I’m happy but in a very subdued way.
But I thought I’d feel different.
Don’t ask me how I thought I’d feel because I have no f*cking clue what I was expecting when I heard the words ‘you’re cured’ it just isn’t what I’m feeling.
The only think I can take from it all is that after four years I’m still cancer free.
