What If It Comes Back In Ten Years?
Olivia Newton-John’s recent death set my worry wheels in motion. She had an early stage breast cancer back in the 90s and then a recurrence at the base of her spine in 2018. And then finally, this most recent bout which took her out at 73.
Yikes. That’s over 30 years later. This set me digging for more information.
First, if breast cancer reappears, it often shows up somewhere else in the body. It’s called a distant metastasis. And even though it may be in the lung or the bones, it’s still called breast cancer.
I also learned that in women with early stage breast cancer, 31–55% had detectable levels of cancer in their bone marrow.at the time of surgery.
Double yikes.
Risk of recurrence doesn’t stop after five years. For early stage breast cancers, the risk continues to grow after ten years.
Triple yikes. It’s this just hunky-dory?
Now granted, I understand I am not a scientist, and it’s always shaky ground when I read a medical journal article and lack the science background to understand all the gobbly-gook of statistics and biology.
And because our brains are wired to latch on to negative news more quickly and firmly than positive news, this is, of course, what I tend to do.
Tell me the 90%-ish-something chance of remaining cancer-free, and I will fixate on the 10%-ish chance that I won’t. Then it sends me digging for more information. More stories of women with my EXACT same pathology and their prognosis. Or are they dead already?
Sigh. First, finding someone with the exact same pathology is a crap shoot. Tumor pathology is like a soft serve ice cream bar with a smorgasbord of sprinkles, crunchies and other glowy colored confections. Each one is different. Sure, there’s categories. But a tumor in the left boob might have slow and lazy mini chocolate chips, whereas the tumor in the right boob has aggressive gummy worms. (Oh bleck.)
My god. I am emotionally exhausting myself just stirring this shit up.
I am not a scientist. But I can grasp a basic truth: the risk of recurrence will hang over my head until the day I draw my last breath.
Phew. Now that I got THAT out of the way, the question remains: So, what?
So. What.
Two little words that spawn many more questions.
How am I going to live with this knowledge? How do I live happy and free knowing I may have undetectable baby cancer cells circulating in my bloodstream this very moment I am sitting here tapping words into my computer? How do I befriend the fear and anxiety so it doesn’t paralyze me and steal my quality of life long before a recurrence that may or may never happen?
Welcome to the next stage of healing, Theresa.
Your mission, if you decide to accept it, is to laugh, dance, and kiss the precious earth beneath your feet each day you are blessed enough to arise from bed.
Buuuuut, buuuuuut! My fear stammers. What if?! WHAT IF, FOR FUCK’S SAKE?!?!?!
And I am reminded of the wise words of my spiritual director, Ellen. “What IS not what IF, Theresa,” she reminds me.
What IS. Right now. I am healthy. I am cancer-free. I am a free agent and can choose what I focus on. Either I focus on scary shit or on life giving outcomes.
And fun fact/spoiler alert: We are all going to die, anyway. I could inhale a peanut and choke to death this very day. (For a woman whose list of feats includes the ability to choke on her own spit, this does not require a whole of imagination to envision.)
The mind is a power tool, the likes of which a DeWalt can never surpass. I can whip myself into a frenzy with worry or I can use the tools I’ve learned through life experiences and therapy to calm the fuck down.
I can sit and ponder these tools: Exercise, taking breaks from reading about cancer, laughing with friends, music, etc, etc. I’m sure you’re well-versed in the drill as well.
That’s all good and well. Yay me for the knowledge.
But it doesn’t mean shit if I don’t put it into practice.
In my most fear-ridden, vulnerable state, I want to scream, SOMEONE HELP ME!
But no one can. Get support? Absolutely. Enlist medical help if needed? Yes.
But ultimately, how I live inside my mind is up to me.
I must save myself.
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