To me, it was being blindsided by cancer, not the chemo, surgery or radiation that was hardest to recover from. I never saw it coming. It was like being hit in the head with a ball in the playground and you weren’t even part of the dodgeball game or really aware the game was going on. It stuns you and disorients you before you can make any sense of what happened.
While I don’t accept that cancer is a “gift” or that it has made me a better person, I have learned to raise the bar on what is a health problem. I can brush off a nasty cold or the flare of a chronic injury as temporary minor annoyances; I know they won’t “kill” me. But I have to admit that there is the fleeting moment where I wonder whether the new cough or pain is a symptom of metastasis.
Recurrence rears its head at unexpected moments. At work, we joke about the hope of being retired at the conclusion of long-term projects, but that’s not where my thoughts go. When one of my daughters casually refers to getting married or having children “someday”, my silent thought is “Will I live that long?”.