Ever since my final chemotherapy treatment a little over a week ago, I have been struggling to write. I have been facing “scanxiety,” having to wait for at least three weeks total for my PET scan to confirm whether I am in complete remission. It plunges me deeper into the state of morbid uncertainty that has consumed me for this half year.
Do I celebrate? Do I move on? Can I move on?
I do find it hard to believe that for now, it’s over. That the hell of it all is over. That my loved ones and I have all gone through such a burdensome period. That I was ever even faced with fucking cancer.
Through it all, I have tried my best to keep a smile on and the burden away from others. I mean, the only thing worse than dealing with someone with cancer is someone who complains about having cancer. Given how utterly hellish and painful it got at times, energy couldn’t have been wasted on complaining.
Of course, as recently as yesterday, assessing my poor and pathetic physical and mental state, there have been times where I would yearn for a pity party. I would wonder how I got myself into such a sad slump, limping for days because I pulled my groin, feeling pain in places no one wants to feel pain, and generally looking terrible for who otherwise should be a strong and healthy 25-year-old woman.
Heck, I find myself scrolling through Instagram, seeing photos of people hiking or just doing normal activities, and envying them because I—with a limp and bald head—can’t seem to live such a life that I lived just a year or two ago. PITY PARTY COMMENCES.
No, it’s not fair to make such comparisons, especially on the worst app for mental health in the world. But you know what, sometimes we just can’t help it.
Anyway, if you’re here seeking updates to this journey, all I can say is that it’s still going. Don’t feel pity for me, because no one needs that, not even someone who just went through hell.
After all, in a weird way, we’re all conditioned to strive for normalcy—sure, to succeed but not stand out too much, to avoid negative attention, to stray away from the uncomfortable shit. And yes, sometimes I do want someone to just be like, “WOW LIFE SUCKS CANCER SUCKS LET’S TALK ABOUT WHY WE’RE ALL SO PATHETIC.” It can be sickeningly fun.
But in the end, I do just want to be normal. That’s all we can ask for in this chaotic world.