I had a picture in my head.
Waking up from surgery, the doctor would smile and tell me – “All is well”.
My body would heal, and I would be stronger, better.
Family & friends would stand with me through it all.
Nobody told me that the texts and phone calls would slow down.
That the check-ins to see how I was holding up and handling it all would become those “fewer and farther between”.
That when released from the doctor’s care there would be a mixture of relief and celebration with the overwhelming fear of “what if”.
Those who showed up for me during the initial diagnosis, surgery and recovery were amazing and incredible.
They loved on me through the darkest days I had ever experienced.
But what no one talks about is that when life starts moving forward for everyone around you, many survivors are standing there wondering how to move forward on their own.
I remember one afternoon just about the end of my “being still and don’t lift anything” period –
Sitting there in a quiet house, bored and lonesome, looking around at all that needed to be done – and I still had not been released to pick up anything heavier than a fork.
Rick was taking a nap.
And I realized that from the outside looking in, our life was just about “normal” again.
Suddenly, the weight of everything crashed into me.
The fear.
The trauma.
The grief.
The anger.
The exhaustion.
All of it – all at once.
From the time of diagnosis until the last doctor’s visit, a cancer patient is in survival mode.
You don’t have time to process what’s happening, you are too busy just getting through it.
You are focused on the next appointment, the next scan, the next milestone, the next path report, the next . . .
Then, the crisis ends.
Your brain breathes and it all catches up.
I don’t think non-cancer people realize how very strange it feels to spend months or years fighting for your life – and then “simply” return to normal.
“Normal” doesn’t exist anymore.
Somewhere along the way, even though I survived, “Normal” did not.
Cancer changed me.
Cancer changed how I see my body – past, present, and future.
Cancer changed how I see and value time.
Cancer changed relationships.
Cancer changed my perspectives.
Before cancer, I assumed I had decades of health and life.
Since cancer, I have learned just how quickly life can – and does – change.
I have learned that plans will disappear overnight, forgotten in the midst of phone calls and appointments.
I have learned that a blah Tuesday, with just one phone call, can become the day that changes everything.
And once you know it, you can never unknow it.
Once you hear the words, you never unhear them.
Once you feel that slam against your mind, your heart, your soul, you don’t unfeel.
For a long time I thought something was wrong with me.
I wasn’t celebrating life the way I thought I should.
I thought surviving would feel happier.
I thought I should be grateful with every breath I took.
I thought I should feel relieved.
Instead, I felt – well,
Confused.
Lost.
Ashamed that I had survived when so many have not, do not.
It took me a long time to understand that healing isn’t just physical.
Healing isn’t hearing the doctor say, “We got it all.”
Healing isn’t reading the path report.
Healing isn’t being told that it’s time to ring the bell.
Sometimes, healing is the Journey, not the destination.
Sometimes the emotional strength takes longer to return.
Sometimes the scars you cannot see, you cannot touch, are the ones that haunt and torment when you are alone.
Today, these years later, I understand something I wish had been in that manual, you know – the one that doesn’t exist.
There is nothing wrong with struggling after diagnosis, after treatment, after the last appointment.
There is nothing wrong with grieving the version of yourself that existed before “C” came into your body and life.
There is nothing wrong with needing time, extra time, to figure out who you are now.
Surviving cancer is not the end of the story.
It is the beginning of a completely new chapter.
Somewhere in life there is another survivor sitting there wondering why they still feel broken, damaged, and guilty – when everyone has told them they should feel better, or that they are “over it” now.
You are not broken.
You are not damaged goods.
You are not ungrateful.
You are not doing survivorship wrong.
You are walking through a Journey that completely, absolutely, irrevocably – changed you, changed your life.
So, if today you just breathe – that’s ok.
You have already survived so much!
Be gentle with your Self.
Written By: Margaret McCoy
The content of this article is for informational purposes only and is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice.
