October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. We think of walk-a-thons and pink ribbons, which unite people to stand up to cancer and support those who are dealing with it.
I am a breast cancer survivor, and I felt like I went through hell for more than two years trying to get my health back. As far as I am concerned, breast cancer survivors are warriors. They are some of the strongest people I know.
You fight this fight, but you don’t really have a choice.
Treatment is different for everyone. You may be dealing with chemotherapy, radiation, surgery, or some combination of them. Surgery can include a lumpectomy or mastectomy. There can be endless appointments with an oncologist, surgeon, radiation oncologist, and maybe even a therapist. Your body can be dramatically changed by surgery, particularly when reconstruction cannot be done immediately.
Let’s go back to chemotherapy, which for me was horrible to experience.
The side effects can include diarrhea, constipation, fatigue, headaches, aching bones—yes, I said aching bones—and severe numbness that can last months after chemotherapy. Some treatment-related side effects can linger much longer, and for some people, they may be permanent. I could describe more, but I think you get the idea.
And then there is losing your hair—even your eyebrows and eyelashes. Hair can be such an important part of a woman’s identity, and losing it can feel like another loss, affecting how feminine and attractive you feel.
For some types of breast cancer, hormone therapy may also become part of life after treatment. I take anastrozole, an aromatase inhibitor used to help reduce the risk of recurrence in certain hormone-sensitive breast cancers. Its potential side effects include hot flashes, bone loss, bone and joint pain, hair thinning, fatigue, and vaginal dryness, among others. Personally, I have experienced bone loss and joint pain.
Then there is the fear that comes with survivorship.
Every year when you have a mammogram, there can be that terrifying thought: What if they find something? What if the cancer is back? What if I have to go through chemotherapy again?
You are trying to rebuild your life, but those fears can pull you right back into the past.
Last year, I found a lump and immediately told my oncologist. He ordered a mammogram, and I spent the weeks leading up to the appointment worried that I was sick again.
Recently, I discovered a new mole on my left breast—the same breast where I had cancer. Again, I immediately told my oncologist and went in to have it examined. He thought it looked like a regular mole but recommended that I see a dermatologist. Thankfully, the dermatologist also thought it was benign.
But before I knew that, my mind went to the worst-case scenario.
One thing I don’t think people always understand is that cancer does not simply end when treatment ends. The appointments may become less frequent and life may begin to look normal again from the outside, but you don’t necessarily return to the same version of yourself.
You carry the experience with you. You become more aware of changes in your body. A routine test can bring back fear. A new ache or lump can immediately take your mind somewhere you don’t want it to go. Even when everything turns out to be fine, the fear you felt while waiting was still very real.
Cancer also changes the way you look at time. You appreciate ordinary days differently. You notice the small things more. You become more aware that life can change quickly, and that makes you want to live more intentionally.
I don’t think survivorship is about pretending the fear is gone. For me, it is about learning how to live alongside it without letting it control everything.
Those are some of the hard things I continue to deal with. The fear doesn’t simply disappear because treatment is over.
I don’t think we talk enough about survivorship and how difficult living after breast cancer can sometimes be. Cancer treatment can leave physical and emotional effects that continue long after the appointments become less frequent and everyone else assumes you’ve moved on.
But we move forward.
For me, being a warrior doesn’t mean never being afraid. It means doing the hard things even when I am afraid. Making the appointment. Getting the mammogram. Telling my doctor when something doesn’t seem right. Facing the uncertainty instead of hiding from it.
And then continuing to live.
I try to enjoy the small moments and be grateful every day that I am alive. Cancer will always be part of my story, but it doesn’t get to be the entire story.
We are made to do hard things.
And sometimes the hardest thing is simply continuing to move forward.
Leave a Reply