If you’ve read any of my former posts, you will know that I was diagnosed and went through treatment for a very rare, aggressive cancer, Small Cell Neuroendocrine Cervical Carcinoma. The five year survival rate is approximately 50%, if you were diagnosed at 1b1 or below. My diagnosis was 1b2, and I’m at 3 years post treatment.
I’m 37 years old with a 10 year old son and 7 year old daughter. My biggest fear is that I won’t see them become the people I know they can grow up to be.
The crazy thing about cancer, or any terminal disease, really, is that you are NEVER TRULY CURED. Sure, the physical illness may be cured, but you are never without the fear. I may not look sick anymore, but every time I have some strange pain, I’m absolutely positive it’s the monster come back to take me away from my babies. Every time I have a cough that lasts just a little too long, I’m sure that it has taken over my lungs. When I’m a little more fatigued than normal, my first thought is metastasis to the brain. I’ve been called a drama queen (which hurt), but until you can take a stroll in my brain, you should probably keep the judgement to a minimum.
I know a lot of people who have had cancer, and they all confirm that my feelings are not crazy. They have all had moments of weakness, where their positivity has run on empty, and they have given in to their fears.
This is my new normal. This is where I’ll be until my dying day. Whether that is in my near future or distant future, only God knows.