Even at NED … it’s there

On November 30, 2016, I learned treatment for my second trip with breast cancer had put me into remission. I was a truly emotional bald woman, armed with pecan pie! Well, the emotion remains and I'm fresh out of pie.

It’s time for me to write again. I think.

I was driving home from getting a hair cut yesterday and I heard the keyboard calling.

I don’t have much to say. Life is good. Family is healthy. Things are quiet and we’re due for that.

I don’t know if it’s the hustle of the holidays, the cold Colorado weather, or some celestial influence but I’m feeling downright crappy. Emotionally and physically.

November 30th marked the two-year anniversary of me being free from breast cancer. Again.

An April, 2019 PET scan will determine if I remain in remission and can move to the next step in the post-cancer process: No more scans, fewer visits with the oncologist, continued daily medicine that, hopefully, keeps the disease at bay.

Meantime, the occasional pain beneath my collarbones shocks me. The throbbing in my teeth and jaw send me for more Advil. The itching in my right breast terrifies me. And, the uncertainties take a toll.

At this point, if it’s back, I don’t want to talk to breast cancer. I don’t want to acknowledge, recognize, or allow it any more time in my world.

Still, it shows up.

There are days when I go for a walk with my dog and the only things we care about are greeting the new puppy next door or stopping to watch clouds chase across the sky.

Then, there are days when my neighbor forthrightly asks: ‘How are your scans?’

So, cancer is there … even at NED, No Evidence of Disease.

I have a relative who went through treatment for colon cancer. He underwent surgery and got the ‘all clear’ that he was cancer free. Recently, he asked: ‘How do you not think about it every day? How are you not terrified it will return?’

To him I said, ‘All you can do is live your life. Find happiness in the mundane. Find happiness in the extraordinary. Enjoy your gifts.’

I guess I need to take my own advice.

I have a pretty blessed life. My husband is a rock. My dog, though decidedly slower than ever before, loves me. I have a warm home. My truck takes me places I want to go. My family and friends are thoughtful, gracious. I am very fortunate.

Still, as I’ve said before cancer knows no social graces. It’s very difficult for me to not fear it showing up, unannounced some day soon.