Post Cancer Anxiety

There was a one month period of my life not too long ago where I didn’t think I was going to make it. It wasn’t a physical thing. Though my post chemo body is slightly damaged, I am fortunate enough to be in much better shape than a lot of the people in my situation. What was “wrong” with me was a more of a mental thing. I know that I have talked about depression a lot, mainly in my Instagram stories, but what I experienced felt like more than that. What I experienced was terror. 

Every day I would wake up to a new fatalistic worry—I was SURE that they didn’t get all of the cancer out of my body or that new and horrible cancerous cells would show up somewhere else, somewhere more deadly and dangerous, like my lungs or liver. Every experience was a new opportunity to worry. A headache was DEFINITELY a brain tumor. A hospital scene in a movie was a new reason to cry. 

I’m not sure what brought on this anxiety. Part of me thinks that during the hardest parts of my treatment—chemo and surgery—I was stuck in survival mode. I wasn’t thinking about much other than making it through the day at work, my next doctor’s appointment, or my next chemo. Another part of me thinks it could have been the hormones in my body trying to right themselves after being hit with constant and heavy doses of poisons of months. Maybe it was a little of both. Either way I suffered a lot that month. 

The truth is that I didn’t do the responsible thing, which was probably to talk to my doctor or oncologist. I didn’t talk to them because I knew that they would recommend depression medications, and I didn’t feel like pumping more chemicals into my body at the time. My anxiety had anxieties and the thought of a brain altering pill was too much for my fragile psyche to handle at the time. Maybe it would have been helpful. I know a lot of my fellow survivors are on depression medications and love it, but I just wasn’t ready to consider it. 

What did I do instead? I whined and complained and explained my fears and anxieties in great detail and ad nauseam to anyone who would listen. I was insufferable. I allowed my anxieties to run rampant. I wallowed in the nasty, grimy crackhouse basement that was my mental state at the time. I didn’t do the responsible thing. 

What I’m trying to say is DON’T BE ME. I mean, maybe be me, but to a much lesser extent. Definitely give yourself some time to wallow and just be in your feelings. Denying that something is wrong and that anxiety is present isn’t healthy. Cry it out. Call your mom. Alienate your friends and exhaust your social media by expressing all of your fears. Let it all out. Try it; it’s so freeing. Don’t let anyone make you feel guilty for feeling your feelings, but also listen. Hear the advice people are giving you. Try it all out. Someone recommended “The Secret” to me and despite it being against everything I’m about, I  WENT THERE. Read about what other survivors are doing. Allow people to help you out. Find a community. The best thing I did was join a workout program for other cancer survivors— the exercise combined with the human interaction did a lot of my mental state. I went to a survivor group a week ago, which again, is so not me, but it was actually really soothing. 

Most importantly, just know that you’re not alone. If you are afraid, you are not alone. It’s only natural to be shaken when you face actual life threatening experiences. You don’t go head to head with Voldermort only to turn around and go get FroYo with your two best friends like nothing ever happened. I’m sure Harry had to go to therapy at some point in his life. You’re only human and there is a community filled with other humans just like you who experienced something traumatic and feel exactly the same way you do. And if you can’t find that community you can definitely reach out to me.