The day before I got the official cancer diagnosis, I tried in
vain to concentrate at work. All the questions and anxieties swirling around in
my head made focusing on work nigh impossible. I already knew from the biopsy
doctor that I did indeed have cancer but that wasn’t an official diagnosis. I
didn’t know what type of lymphoma I had, its stage, or what the treatment plan
would be. A multitude of unknowns. This did not sit well with my ultra-planner
personality. I had done enough reading to know that lymphoma was quite treatable
and many patients were cured, but there were still so many variables that I
couldn’t form a clear picture of my future with lymphoma.
I took some time that afternoon to analyze and write out how
I was feeling and what was going through my head—a little journal therapy, if
you will. Below are some excerpts from what I wrote.
“It’s been very difficult to concentrate on work today, as
you can imagine.
“I’m having difficulty identifying the source of my
nervousness/anxiety. I don’t believe this cancer is a death sentence. So what
am I anxious or worried about? I might even be able to continue working through
treatment, at least part-time. So what am I worried about? Is it the immediate
gravity and scary associations with the word ‘cancer?’ Is it fear of getting
sick from treatment? Of losing my hair? Of having to pause/interrupt my life
for treatment? Is it just the unknown that has me all spun up? Will I feel
better once I have a firm diagnosis?
“Maybe I am also anxious about how to tell people and the
level of support I will or won’t get. I’m a very private person…. Maybe part of
the anxiety comes from knowing that this information can’t be contained and
anticipating reactions from and interactions with others. I want people to know
and show their support but that also feels like a strange concept, for people
to be so aware of me….
“Does this anxiety stem from memories of Jeremy [my younger
brother who died of melanoma in 2006] and his cancer? It hasn’t been in the
forefront of my consciousness but surely it’s there somewhere, affecting my
mood and perception. How could it not?
“I think ultimately, I just want to know what’s going on so
I can plan and take next steps.”
1 comment:
Powerful writing. It's amazing how memories and experiences affect us, but we aren't aware of that influence until a singular moment in our lives. I'm reading this and thinking, "You were diagnosed with cancer, anxiety seems completely normal in this abnormal situation." The unknown can be terrifying, and yet, tomorrow for each of us is an unknown. Your experience shows how acute your awareness of that fact becomes. One thing is clear - you dealt with all of this as well as possible and your authenticity about it is compelling. Keep writing, it's really incredible to feel a part of this difficult and yet, transformative, phase of your life.
Post a Comment