Cancer Is All About Worry

Cancer is all about worry. 

Cancer causes a domino effect of worry. One worry leads to another. When you first find your lump or whatever clue finally gives your sneaky cancer away, you worry about what might or might not be. You worry about if you should tell anyone, make that doctor appointment, or schedule that diagnostic mammogram. But finally, you do what you have to do.

Cancer is all about worry.

When you realize you need a biopsy, you worry some more.

You enter a new, more intense worry zone.

Cancer is all about worry.

Then a few days later your worst worry is confirmed. You hear the words, you have cancer, and wham, bang, the floodgates of worry open up.

Shit, now you need an oncologist.

How did this happen?

Cancer is all about worry.  

So you worry about how to pick one.

Then you worry about what is or is not the best treatment path for you to take.

And once you do,

You worry about whether or not you chose the right one.

Cancer is all about worry.

You worry about surgery and what kind (if any) to have. You worry about recovery, pain, chemo, radiation, drain tube paraphernalia, having one breast, having no breasts, choosing reconstruction or not choosing reconstruction, losing your hair, throwing up, not sleeping, looking sick, feeling sick, neuropathy, lymphedema, gaining weight, losing weight, being tired, what you will eat, what your partner might think (or if you’re single and don’t want to be, if you’ll ever have a partner at all), what will happen to your sex life (or if you’ll even have one again).  And so on and so on…

Cancer is all about worry.

You might also worry that you might be the first person on the planet unable to handle any of it. (Please tell me I wasn’t the only one who worried about this). Other women (and men) have handled this crap, you should be able to as well, right?

Cancer is all about worry.

You might worry and wonder why you do not feel brave, courageous, strong or warrior-like, even when people tell you that you are. You might worry that you are a cancer failure, in more ways than one.

Cancer is all about worry.

And if your cancer has a genetic link like mine does, you worry about your siblings, cousins, nieces and nephews and other family members getting cancer too. And you worry about passing on the damn cancer to your own kids.

Cancer is all about worry.

On top of all these cancer worries you also have the ‘ordinary’ worries, the normal worries of life.

You worry about your job and if you’ll be able to keep it. You worry about your kids, your parents and friends and how much to tell them. You worry about paying the bills, cleaning the house, doing the laundry, cooking dinner, buying groceries, walking the dog and so on and so on. You worry about everything you must do, as well as about all the things you know fully well you cannot.

And let’s not forget, you worry about dying.

Cancer is all about worry.

Eventually, if you’re lucky enough to have an ending point to active treatment, you worry about the darn little white pill you’re supposed to take (and all the nasty side effects that might come with it). You worry about how to pick up the pieces of your life (or if you even can), how to put one foot in front of the other and how in the world you’re supposed to muddle through this thing called survivorship. You worry and wonder if you’ll ever find the old you again, or even remnants of who you once were.

You worry you will not be so good at this thing called survivorship either.

Cancer is all about worry.

You worry about recurrence and wonder how long you’ll be NED (no evidence of disease). You worry and wonder if and when the other shoe will drop.

Again, you worry if you will be able to handle it if it does.

If you’re metastatic, well, the worries are of a whole different kind. It wouldn’t even be appropriate for me to imply I know what my metster friends worry about. But I know there is much to worry about.

Cancer is all about worry.

And why do worries seem, well, more worrisome, in the middle of the night?

Worry. Worry. Worry.

Yes, cancer is all about worry.

So, suggesting a cancer patient need not worry is probably not helpful.

What is your biggest worry right now?

How do you calm your cancer worries?

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