During these last few unprecedented weeks, a familiar feeling has been nagging at me.
I am reminded of my treatment year, when we were so very careful to keep germs away from me, and me away from germs. I was immunocompromised then, so much so that I had that super-expensive injection to keep my white blood cell count up. On the days I went to work, I used the bottle of hand sanitizer on my desk as soon as I got in; that same bottle is still on my desk, nearly empty, and all alone in my empty office.
I am reminded of the days in between my every-six-months scan and the followup appointment with my oncologist when scanxiety runs rampant.
I am reminded how in the years since treatment and my last surgeries, no matter how long it has been or how good the current prognosis, even the tiniest new twinge or strange sensation in my belly convinces me that It Is Back.
And now, I can welcome you all to this state of mind. Now that we are all (hopefully) staying at home most of the time, and riding out these very strange days, you may have an inkling of what it feels like to be a cancer survivor, as you over-analyze every cough and ache and pain and wonder, do I have It? Will I end up in the hospital? Will I survive?
Welcome to my world. It's nice to see you.
