What Would Michael Do?

I find that when my body is aching, my mind drifts away to a land where all I can see are the things that I fear. I used to be so fearless. What’s the matter with me, seriously?

I’m just not having any of it today.

My best friend came by to pick some things up from here and he brought his little daughter with him. She’s almost 2 and so completely adorable — it melts my cold heart. She immediately wanted to sit on my lap and while I’ve been feeling sick for most of the afternoon and I know that she’s actually been sick with a cold or something for the last week, I couldn’t say no. So I held her and I talked to her and she finally rested her head on my chest and stayed silent, completely comfortable. My friend said, “Wow, I think she may like you more than she likes me.” I laughed and said, “Yeah who wouldn’t?” He then said, “Hahaha well, that’s okay, because when you have kids, I’m going to make them like ME more.”

Something about that didn’t sit well with me. And now I’ve realized why.

How can I ever feel comfortable bringing someone into this world if it’s not certain that I will be around and healthy to take care of them? One can argue that a healthy individual that has never had cancer could easily lose their life in a car accident or have an aneurysm or whatever and also leave children behind. I understand that. But I also feel that I make a good case in my head for why it would be way more likely for ME to lose my life and leave my children fending for themselves.

It’s not just the kids, really. That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I’m suddenly very aware of what lasting effects cancer will have not just on my body, but on my spirit as well. Maybe there’s absolutely nothing to worry about. I’m going to be cancer-free in a few months — that part I’m not so worried about. But maybe I will NEVER relapse. Or maybe I will relapse faster than JT can make most women on this website smile. I’ve read so many stories on here about people who have relapsed once, twice, three times…dare I even say more? It’s a truth that we must all take with a grain of salt, sure, as no one person is the same. But it’s also a truth that I cannot hide from.

One thing is certain: I’m going to have to live my life scan to scan for the rest of my life. People tell me stuff like, “hang in there! It’ll just be a few more months and then you’ll be done!” IT’S NOT DONE! It never will be done. “Won’t it be great when you eventually graduate to just yearly checkups?!” Um, NO. How is that great? We have to live with the fear now, and I’m not quite convinced that it will ever get any better.

Cancer… it just makes me feel like I’m in some sort of fog. I can’t see anything clearly anymore, no matter how hard I try. I can’t even take advantage of the good things that have come my way because of this new fear inside of me — a fear that makes me feel like I will never be able to shake this or make choices that will keep me and the people around me safe, happy, and healthy.

This experience has shaken me to my core and has made me feel like I’ve lost a part of myself that I will never gain back. If you find my confidence and courage somewhere, you let me know.

Hmm, I could probably use a martini right now.