This One is for the Survivors….
Some times I forget that some cancer patients do survive.
What’s that like? How do you start to ‘live’ again after cancer treatment? If your oncologist tells you, “You’re finished here, have a good life,” what’s the next step?
There is after-care in cancer. Your primary doctor takes on an important role, because he/she has to watch for signs of recurrence. Chemotherapy has probably left it’s mark in some way: fingers and toes are numb, lingering skin problems sometimes, even cognitive issues remain. Radiation treatments can leave similar problems. What about rehab? It can become a necessity following certain surgeries.
Cancer can be cured, but not forgotten.
So how does it feel to be a real survivor? Can you ever really put it behind you?
I’m curious because it didn’t happen that way for me.
This one’s for the survivors….what’s it like, really?
January 16, 2012 @ 9:17 pm
Great post with lots of imprtoant stuff.
January 13, 2012 @ 9:12 am
I don’t consider myself a survivor. Survivor conveys a sense of “it’s over….it’s done….no more cancer” I prefer to say that I am surviving. My numerous recurrences of melanoma, the renal cell carcinoma and the lung cancer have caused me to think about my situation differently. I just received the results of my scan yesterday. It was clear. When my oncologist walked into the room to deliver the news, he and I just laughed at the good news. He has delivered the “not so good news” numerous times so even he breathes a sigh of relief when my scans are clear. He and I know that my walk with cancer is tenuous at best. It has been about 2 years since my last recurrence. Maybe at the 5 year mark, I may classify myself as a survivor but until then, I’m happy to be surviving.
Judie and Mary Dell, glad to see you here and posting. Come here often and share your thoughts with us. This is a special place.
January 13, 2012 @ 12:18 am
In 1986 I was a busy mother, wife, speech pathologist who was diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer. Fortunately, I lived in Anchorage, Ak home of two wonderful doctors who were doing a very new approach to dealing with large tumor CA. I received six weeks of pre-op chemo,and was found to have 40 positive lymph nodes when the mastectomy was completed. Because of a “guarded” prognosis our family moved back to our home state of Wyoming. The new team of medical specialist were reluctant to follow the protacol from the Alaska doctors because it was so radical. I convinced them that I would not stay in their care if they didn’t, do EXACTLY as my Alaska doctors had begun. My husband was told if I had any magazines up for renewal to “not bother!” Fast forward one year, my Wyoming oncologist told me, “I never expected you to be standing before me today, as healthy as you are!” Now,twenty five years later I am still here! We,ve raised our family, I,ve worked forty-two years, and I think of Breast Cancer every day as I get dressed. There have been many scares along the way, and a couple of other major health issues, but not the one I use to think would get me!
January 12, 2012 @ 1:47 pm
As a patient, I had a seven year break between breast cancer and multiple myeloma and then an 11-year gap between occurences of the myeloma, so can speak to this somewhat.
After chemo, I did not have the numbness or any kind of edema, but my stamina took a big hit. Returning to an exercise routine was a big help, both physically and psychologically.
I found that every time I had any kind of ache or pain (oh, no it’s back?) I wanted to run to the doctor. To avoid becoming a hypochondriac, I instituted a 7-day rule – if the pain lasted an 8th day, I would go. Luckily nothing lasted that long, so it was a good rule for me. I also had an “ah-ha! moment” one day (each time) when I realized that I had not though about cancer for a few days. That’s a real gift which never lasts long enough…
The longer the time between visits became (never longer than 6 months), I would get super nervous before each oncology appointment, though, because I had to deal with cancer again and what would they find, etc. etc
You never truly forget much about your experience. Our memories can heal from the memory of the pain, but I find I can still conger it up. The surgical scars can heal, but they don’t seem to totally disappear. It’s easy to wonder if/when “the other shoe will drop” as was mentioned a few days ago.
And the survivor-guilts… That’s the toughest thing for me. Whether you are “mentoring” a current patient or reading the obit of someone you know or even a stranger, there are different degrees of the guilts but it’s there.
So, no, even while I am living a charmed life (being able to enjoy today and having responded well to the treatments to be able to get pretty much back to normal each time), I don’t believe it’s possible to forget. I am not sure that I’d want to, though…
Thank you for keeping this blog going!
January 12, 2012 @ 5:57 pm
-thanks for your insight & honesty
January 15, 2012 @ 4:36 am
Got it! Thanks a lot again for helnpig me out!
January 15, 2012 @ 3:18 pm
I just hope whoever writes these keeps wtrinig more!
January 11, 2012 @ 8:47 pm
More than once my gloomy break from chemo vigil was brightened by an incredible survivor story. Looking back, it took incredible courage for these strangers to share their struggles and sacrifice. Wonderful caregivers and patients-their only motive was to help and to provide hope. I know they had their own serious concerns.They literally stopped in mid-battle to put their arm around me. They shared a peace-a look of determination and kindness. I often wonder about these nameless heroes. I wish them well.
January 15, 2012 @ 7:56 pm
That’s cleared my thoughts. Thanks for contriubtnig.
January 16, 2012 @ 10:57 pm
If inforamtion were soccer, this would be a goooooal!