Today I told my therapist that I am reasonably certain that
I will live a long life and die from old age.
It came up in a conversation about Tamoxifen vs. Arimidex (pre vs.
post-menopausal anti-estrogen medications) and the fact that my “chemo’d”
ovaries can’t decide if they are ready to give up or not. There are new protocols for Tamoxifen,
suggesting that 10 years is better than the previous recommendation of 5, and
frankly, that annoys me as I am not a huge fan of the side effects. Her point was that to understand the literature
and make an informed decision with my doctor.
My point was that I feel pretty confident in my future health, so
whichever anti-estrogen medicine I take, I know I will be fine.
Now yes, as I type those words I am tempted to reach out and
knock on the wood coffee table or spit between my fingers (how my bubby used to
scare away the evil eye), but really, it’s how I feel. I feel lucky.
For a long time I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, and while I
realize it still can, I also realize I could get hit by a bus, or fall down a
well, or die in a plane crash. While those options are probably more remote for me than dying from cancer, they all seem about as likely.
When I coach with new cancer survivors they usually tell me
that they can’t imagine a life without the fear of cancer hanging very low over
their heads: Fear of recurrence, fear of
more treatment, fear of dying. Each
little ache and pain, each routine follow-up appointment or scan brings it all
rushing back. I explain to them that as
they spend more time feeling well and making new ‘non-cancer’ memories, that
fear will recede. It never completely
goes away, but I have fewer and shorter fear episodes than ever these days.
I tell them that it all comes down to deciding how you will
approach today, the day you have, knowing that the future is uncertain. Whether you will die from cancer, from old
age, or get hit by that bus, you have today and you get to choose how to live
it. I choose to live today feeling
lucky. It’s easier now than it used to
be - I have, after all, been cancer free for over six
years. But I promise that you can do it
too. It just takes time and some new memories.
