Today I hate cancer. But I embrace being a survivor more than ever.
5 years ago today, I learned that I was in remission, half way through 12 chemotherapy treatments. 3 months into my ordeal. I wasn’t in the clear yet but it was evident that the treatment was working. Today I was supposed to have my six month checkup at the cancer centre. Bloodwork, wait two hours, then appointment with the nurse practitioner that I am now assigned to. I have graduated from seeing Dr Stevens every visit.
The anticipatory stress that comes with these appointments is hard to describe, while I know that I have had no symptoms, the oncologist’s remark many years ago that “bloodwork doesn’t lie” stays with me. What if? That combined with the milestone that today July 8, 2019 represents 5 years, made today a day that I was not dreading but waiting for. WISHING FOR. I am not officially CURED until after my next appointment in December as they count that I have been in remission for five years from the PET scan that happens 6-8 weeks after my chemotherapy has finished. An indication that when I am not receiving treatment that the cancer did not return and I remain “no evidence of disease” - then I am CURED.
Unfortunately, the appointment today didn’t happen. It seems as though it was rescheduled, but in the communication practice of the Grand River Cancer Centre, they supposedly mail out changes in appointments, but I didn’t receive this change.
So I waited…. 30 minutes - just to register. The waiting area filled with patients and their loved ones, not an empty seat. I look around at so many sick people, so many. Five years ago I was one of them. I sat beside an elderly couple, with a large binder, color coded charts to keep track of all the medications this elderly lady had to endure, they were trying to figure out when she last had her anti-nausea meds. It brought me back to trying to remember the last pill I took of the 7-8 medications that i was on. They smiled at me and asked if I was there with someone. No.. I proudly stated, I am a survivor, I am a patient. I was one of the few who didn’t look exhausted and scared. But inside, I still am. All the time. And that is why I hate cancer.
I hate knowing that my childhood friend was nearby in the ER with his sweet mother, facing the battle of her life with a rare type of thyroid cancer, likely with no cure. How did I get so lucky to spin the cancer roulette wheel - to Hodgkins Lymphoma. The horrible treatment, often results in a cure for 90% of us. Not everyone in that waiting room is so fortunate.
So here I sit with a rescheduled appointment, in reality - this is small when I see the faces of everyone waiting, waiting to know if they will beat this disease, waiting for poisons or radiation to curse through their veins. My disappointment is small. My waiting insignificant. It is humbling to see the vast number of our community using the GRH Cancer Centre, my home away from home for so long. I am grateful for the care I received. I can wait a few more weeks for the confirmation that I remain in remission, others aren’t so fortunate as I am.
I was able to enjoy a beautiful day in the sunshine, reading, gardening and taking care of others, paying it forward which I made a promise to myself that I would do after so many took care of us.
I send my love and prayers to the Ryan family. I received a text from D when I was sick and I send exactly the same message back to him. I kept that text and wouldn’t change a word.
“I wanted to reach out of you. First I am sorry that you are going through this but I know there is no one in the world more giving, caring and thoughtful than you. What does that mean… you will deal with and overcome whatever is in front of you. And you are not alone. All the people that you have impacted are standing with you and that is a powerful force. So if you want to talk about this or nothing about this - I am here. You are one of my oldest and truest friends and I am there to help in any way I can. I hope you know that.” (DR) Love, Michelle
