Survivorship

Survivorship

I am officially in year five of my cancer journey, but something my niece said to me recently hit home how dire having cancer is. It made me realize how much danger I was in, no matter what the outcome is now. She was talking with my brother about me when I was so sick from the chemo, and the subject of my dogs came up. They were trying to decide who would take Calvin, Polly, and Angel if I were to die. Oh, my gosh, my dogs and me dying! It was then, almost five years later, that I realized that I could have died. That old fear came creeping back. I cannot describe that feeling, and it has seeped into my psyche. That is what trauma looks like.  

I wish I were strong enough to push things aside and not let them bother me. I wish I could forget all of the last few years and just be happy. And I do, and I am, but there is still the buzz of danger. It may not be red zone fear, but it is the mellow yellow kind whirring underneath. As if on cue, I read an article in The American Society of Clinical Oncology ASCO, about the physical and emotional challenges of breast cancer survivors and the need to improve survivorship care.

They found that follow-up care is often “oncology-driven” and focuses solely on tracking recurrence, rather than the psychological, emotional, or even physiological aspects of survivorship. There is a lack of coordination between supportive care and doctors, and mostly, a lack of personalization. I felt this during my last visit to Perlmutter. Dr. O is an oncologist, and that is what she does: she treats cancer. I felt the impersonality of it. I was, at this time, free of cancer, so there is nothing more she can do for me. She needs to help some other poor soul who has cancer. The visit was not entirely impersonal because Dr. O and I have been together for the last four years, and she came in to see me and, in her way, gave me a “good job.” I will see her in six months, but it is like a parting of friends, a soft parting.

Time will heal the trauma better than anything else. Hopefully, it will fade into oblivion as we continue to recover. There are many things we can share to help and support one another. May we find beauty and strength in our survivorship and in bolstering one another.