Sometimes I wish I still had cancer
I’m going to keep it fairly vague because I don’t feel ready to tell my friends and family this, but it’s as the title says. Sometimes I wish I still had cancer.
When I was in high school, I was diagnosed with a rare type of brain cancer. The treatment itself wasn’t too bad, but it took nearly a year to get the right diagnosis so I spent that time being treated for miscellaneous diseases I didn’t have. I got the all clear after I finished treatment and moved on with my life, feeling pretty safe and secure. As I was approaching the 5 year mark (the point generally regarded as the “you’re out of the woods now” mark), a routine scan found that the tumor had returned, but had metastasized to my spine. I went through heavy dose chemo, with a stem cell transplant and a long in-patient stay. Although I’m technically in remission now, and have been so for 5 years, I’ve never stopped looking over my shoulder, and even find myself wishing I still had cancer.
I know it sounds horrible, I’m incredibly grateful to my team of doctors and nurses, but such a huge portion of my life has been spent in the hospital that in some ways, being sick just seems easier than regular life. I know how to go sit in a chair and be poked with needles and pumped full of poison. I still struggle with things like getting out of bed and going into work. I don’t know, I guess it just seems like normal life isn’t normal in some ways.
There is something very psychologically comforting about knowing there are a bunch of people taking care of you.
Everyone misses that. You’re different because you can pin it on sickness specifically. For me it’s the feeling of summer in childhood.
First of all, don’t feel be guilty or ashamed about this, you’d be surprised by the number of people who wish for “a non-fatal car accident” or the like. That’s sad in it’s own right, but my point is it’s not just you.
I have a medical condition that will require life long monitoring, and was boring until it wasn’t, and I spent like a year planning a major surgery. I still have to deal with that “looking over my shoulder” part. Only mentioning to say: your treatment doesn’t seem better because you were in treatment, it seems better because you were a kid. Adult life is hard, and it’s harder when you have complex medical considerations even if they’re under control. Your friends will not understand the unique pressure associated with the usual trials and tribulations of becoming an adult while also managing your own care. After all “you’re not sick anymore” right?! (sarcasm if it wasn’t obvious).
If at all possible, I highly recommend reaching out to a mentor network. I signed up to mentor around my condition specifically for reasons like this. I won’t say much about my mentee, but the timing of a big procedure meant they went from a covid era high school to a covid era college followed by a major ass procedure (with that procedure looming over them the whole time). I was an adult with a full ass job by the time I had mine, but I was still budgeting care while my friends were budgeting weddings. The isolation of disease when you’re young is terrible.
Find other people to talk to that have been there. You’ll find you’re not alone, even in your darkest thoughts. As you do, extend the ladder back down to those coming behind you. I found a lot of peace in mentoring, in being the person I wish I had.
None of this will make it easy, but it might make it easier.
Thank you for saying this, exactly my sentiment (similar situation) .
Life was so easy and “good” in hospital. Having had issues with the daily routine for a long time now after the hospital and being cured it seems totally ungrateful saying it. Towards everyone involved saving me.
It still is like that.
And the feeling of being left alone to recover mentally.
Maybe we should get in direct contact. Nobody can relate (of course).
It’s ok to be comfortable with your old routines.
Being previously homeless, I knew a lot of people that were once incarcerated (or in other bad situations). Even when their situation was better, they sometimes still wished they could go back. It’s what they knew.
I guess I’m just saying it sounds like what you’re feeling is normal. But I hope the cancer doesn’t come back. I hope you’re able to adjust to “regular life” and come to find comfort in it, too.