Prologue
Fall 2020
CT scan: Hey, look, there's something funny in your brain. It's probably cancer.
MRI scan: Lol, jk.
Summer 2021
CT scan: That thing is still there, only now it's slightly bigger!
MRI scan: Nope. Not even a single spider egg.
"Happy" "Cancerversary" to "Me"
One year ago today, I came very very close to not going to the hospital. My heart rate and blood pressure had been up for a week, despite my best efforts to bring them down, but there were no other real symptoms of cardiac problems. When my doctor suggested I go to the ER just to get checked out, I had a dozen reasons not to. The labs would be open again tomorrow morning. It was my turn to pick up kiddo from after-school. There was a pandemic going on; the ER was probably full; I really, most likely, probably wasn't having a heart attack. I would have to go home and get the car; or carry the battery from my ebike around with me.
I don't know what exactly made me decide to ride over to the hospital after all. Maybe subconsciously I knew something had been wrong for a while. I had spent the last few months begging off of my various non-work responsibilities, from volunteering to soccer to social events, too exhausted at the end of the day to do much of anything. I was napping more frequently, and less intentionally - I would sit down on the couch and wake up three hours later. I got out of breath walking uphill to our house. (It's uphill in every direction, which is great for tsunami-survival purposes, but not so much for mobility-limiting ones).
That was me B.C. - Before Cancer. (Or, more accurately, Before the Cancer Was Found, but BtCWF doesn't quite roll off the keyboard the same way).
And here I am now, starting year 2 A.C. I thought it would be easy to write this post, but I am often wrong about which things will be easy and which will be hard and this proved no exception. So much has changed - and yet so much is the same. I'm healthier (in the "having less, and maybe even no, cancer in my body" sense) but also less healthy (in the: "jogged 100m and needed a 5-hour nap the next day" sense, as well as the "chemo-induced tinnitus seems permanent this time" and the always pleasant, "better buy stock in the company that makes Imodium" sense).
I still spend a lot of time online, but very differently than before. I've read more scientific journals in the past year than I have in my entire life (which isn't entirely surprising for an Arts major who hadn't studied science since the previous millennium). An unexpected side effect of the whole process has been an increase in respect/empathy for medical professionals, and a decrease in the trust I put in the information I receive from them. The prologue at the top of this page is just one example of the conflicting and unreliable results that medical testing produces, even before they're run through the inherent biases and predispositions of the individuals who interpret them.
When I'm not reading the latest research or attending virtual cancer conferences, I do still go on social media quite a bit - but my feed is mostly filled with posts from strangers with whom I share the unfortunate and sadly comforting bond of this disease. When I'm up to it, I binge on my friends' posts, to revel in their joys, successes, travels, achievements, or empathize with their losses and disappointments. (Usually I need another nap after that.)
My to-do list keeps growing, as does my sense of dread of how much might be left undone (especially during those insomniac nights.) Most of it has to do with getting some sense of order back into my life; of tying up loose ends and sorting through the clutter. But, pop quiz, hotshot - how do you determine what's useful and what's clutter when you don't know your own capabilities or approximate life expectancy anymore? Answer: With great f*cking difficulty.
Epilogue
How do you walk when just to have to wheeze?
How do you talk when you can't trust a sneeze?
How to respond when your brain seems to freeze?
WITH GREAT F*CKING DIFFICULTY
How do you sleep when your ears start to ring?
How do you eat when you don't want a thing?
How do you live when, Jon Snow, you know nothing?
WITH GREAT F*CKING DIFFICULTY
