Living through cancer is hard. I mean really hard. The kind of hard where some days you deserve a medal for even waking up in the morning. But I made it through that. And here I am. I’m considered, at least for now, cancer free. I was lucky. I didn’t have to go through chemo or radiation. There were times when not having chemo gave me survivor’s guilt and other times it made me feel like a fraud…like my cancer journey was less valid somehow. It also meant that at the end of my treatments there was no bell to ring and no cheers. I simply walked out of the cancer center in a daze after my last surgical appointment and then cried my eyes out in the car before driving home.
My “recovery” phase came on quickly. One moment I was going through weekly procedures and cancer center appointments and the next it was, “You’re cancer free, see you in a year.” Survival is an amazing gift, one that I am grateful for. Nevertheless, I have spent practically every day since in a perpetual state of shell-shock.
When I finished treatment my previously (somewhat) well-ordered life was in shambles. I was physically weak. My range of motion in both arms was limited. I couldn’t lift more than a half gallon milk jug and reaching dishes on the upper shelves was a challenge. Though I have made a great deal of physical progress, my emotional progress has been much less straight forward.
When it comes to emotional recovery, I was not necessarily expecting a post-cancer epiphany. I did not expect an Ebenezer Scrooge-like moment where I saw the error of my pre-cancer existence and vowed to change my ways. The truth is I had been “living right” all along and there wasn’t really much in my life that needed obvious changing. I can see how epiphanies could happen because cancer refocuses everything. It changes who you are, it changes what is important, it changes the way you look at the world. But in my case, in my job as a pulmonary critical care physician I fought death for a living which left me constantly considering my own life and death. There was no surprise when cancer happened to me. I had seen many people younger than me die and I had no illusions about the reality of my own mortality.
Even though I didn’t come out of cancer expecting that thunderstrike moment I did expect clarity. I came out of cancer feeling like everything was different, everything SHOULD be different, and life could never truly be the same. And most of all I felt like I should know what direction I was headed…instead I have found myself constantly confused, lacking confidence, and struggling to make even simple decisions. I often find myself stumbling around blindly in that same old darkness that has had a hold of me since the day of my initial cancer diagnosis.
In my pre-cancer days I was healthy and athletic. I ran regularly. I did yoga several days a week. I ate a plant based diet. I didn’t drink caffeine. I never smoked. I was up to date on all my vaccinations and preventative care. I was a good doctor. I very literally saved lives on a daily basis. I was a good friend. I was a (for the most part) good wife. I was empathetic. I knew the value of relationships. I lived mindfully. I considered how my actions affected those around me, my community, the environment, and the world. I was kind to others. I recycled. I composted. I planted trees. I avoided single use plastics. I raised threatened butterflies and bees. I organized waterway cleanups. I rescued injured birds. I mentored at-risk kids. I even volunteered at the Humane Society. If I got cancer despite all of my good habits and good karma, what changes could I really make after the fact to reach that different and meaningful post-cancer life I was hoping for?
I have no idea what comes next. The confusion and lack of direction can be overwhelming. Sometimes when I think of the “big picture” I am almost paralyzed with fear. It feels like I am crawling up the same old mud hill only now I’m doing it with both physical and emotional handicaps. Things before and during cancer were hard. The same old thing seems impossible now.
I am my own worst critic and often beat myself up over my current lack of clarity. I feel like by now I should have some idea of what the next step looks like or some understanding of how to get to the life I want to have. I do know where I want to get to. I can see it far off in the distance, but I have absolutely no clue how to get there from where I am currently. Why can’t I just get moving? I am highly motivated. I have spent my life moving mountains. Instead of the forward progress I crave, I find myself spinning, agonizing over each and every choice. In rare moments of calm I am able to take a step back and tell myself “it’s only been three and a half months, give yourself a break.” But inevitably the clouds reform and I am again harshly criticizing myself for not being farther along than I am.
I am hoping that in time this storm of confusion will lift. Maybe someday I will be in a position to look back on this time with perspective and understanding. In the meantime, all I can do is put one foot in front of the other and try to forgive myself for not meeting my own impossible expectations. Emotional recovery takes the time it takes, I guess.
And that epiphany I wasn’t looking for… right now, it’s looking like I might just need that epiphany after all.
I would love to hear from you. How did you find your post illness or post trauma clarity? When did your way forward become clear?
