Sometimes I wonder if you, my dear readers, feel like I am a record stuck on a song. There are times that I write and realize I have already shared these thoughts in some earlier post. It is a slightly different melody but the theme is the same. You may think that happens because I am forgetful. Or maybe I am having obsessive thoughts. Both of those may be true, so I won’t debate that. But the reason I repeat ideas in this blog is because just when I think I have come to terms with something, it hits me again. One of those issues is what it means to be a survivor. I feel like I have accepted that a million times and then, grief brings it to the surface.

As I write this post, I am periodically wincing because typing is aggravating a four inch incision on my upper arm. It is the consequence of more skin cancer and more surgery. Six months ago, my dermatologist told me I looked good and there were no signs of cancer. And then six weeks ago, I noticed what looked like an abrasion on my arm. Since that time, it grew fast and deep. And well, here I am with ice and Tylenol, waiting out the pain.

So, what is getting triggered with my latest experience with cancer? It represents never being totally free of cancer. I can have skin exams and multiple body scans every year, followed by words from my health care provider like “clear” or “stable”. And that sounds like good news, right? But it also means hearing the unspoken “for now” that hangs in the room after results are delivered. It means accepting that this process will be every six months to a year for the rest of my life. It means accepting that being stable can change at any moment. It means making plans for travel while qualifying it based on my health. The words never pass my lips, but inside, plans are made wondering “if I am well enough.” With multiple cancers, it means I am vigilant about my body and my health and do not totally trust my body to not create more cancer cells. Vigilance has saved my life, but it is exhausting.

And all these mental and emotional gymnastics are going on beneath the surface, which can be a lonely way to cope. Often I keep things from my friends and family because I feel sure that they are tired of listening to it. After all it has been almost sixteen years. Also, my health is so complicated that it would require a lot of explaining before I could even get to the emotions that are swirling through me. And so this and a deep yearning for the life I can never return to goes unspoken. I gently try to bring myself back to the present, validate my emotions, and look for ways to connect to goodness in my life. But, after a while the longing returns and the process begins anew. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

I do not say any of this to publicly pity myself. I say it because I know I am not alone in this experience. Many survivors have shared that they struggle with the grief and acceptance that comes from being a survivor. I also want to share this experience because I know that some of my readers are the loved ones of a cancer patient or survivor. It is my hope that this post will help you understand what may be the inner world of the person you love. And finally, I write this because it is my truth and that makes it worth writing about.

Be well, my dear readers.