After The End

As a reader of fairy tales, “The End” always includes “and they lived happily ever after”. Which implies that the adventure is fully completed, life has returned to normal, and everyone is a bit wiser. How I wish this idea translated to real life. 

 My last chemo treatment was anticlimactic. I was not excited to be done, to be leaving the safe place of the oncology unit. But, I faked it, since everyone expected me to be happy. My nurse skipped me to the door. She did the skipping, I had chemo exhaustion. The other nurses and the office staff cheered for me. We paused by the Chemo Bell. The bell many oncology patients ring to signify the milestone of finishing treatment. I couldn’t ring it. This was not a milestone I wanted to celebrate.  

I was depressed for days and could not figure out why. I pasted my smile on and accepted congratulations, while inwardly cringing. I told myself that this was something to celebrate. We had made it! Despite the bumps along the way, our chemo treatment was finished. “The End” of my cancer journey was in sight. 

I remained depressed, and afraid. 

It has been three years since my cancer diagnosis, two and a half years since I finished chemo, two and a half years since I had my double mastectomy, two years since I finished radiation therapy, and one and a half years since I had reconstruction of my original reconstruction. 

I still struggle with depression and fear. 

When I finally broke down and talked to my oncologist about how I was feeling, she told me I was not the only cancer patient to feel that way. While the treatment for my cancer is over, I’m not done with my cancer. I never will be. She said it’s not like having a broken bone or having your appendix out. With those, you go through a specified course of healing and then you returned to life as normal

There is no going back to the normal from before my cancer. She also told me that my new normal was not going to look like other cancer survivors normal, and that was ok. It was ok to be depressed and afraid. 

The pink ribbon brought breast cancer the publicity it needed for research, support of those going through treatment and their families, and to encourage all women to be screened. The focus is on the cancer and beating it, but nothing is said about what happens afterwards. People forget that cancer is a life changing event and there is no returning to your life before. 

So here I sit, trying to find my new normal. Pasting a smile on my face and pretending excitement can only take me so far. If I truly want to grow and move on, I need to acknowledge the harrowing road I walked, define the lessons it has taught me, and focus on the path that is actually before me and not the one I want to be on.