DONE WITH TREATMENT, now what?

(I wrote this mid April, when I completed treatment, but am only now getting to post it.  I've back dated the post so it fits within the chronological order of the blog.)

It's  one week.   The week after I have completed radiation, in which someone asks, 'are you done with treatment?' I reply yes. They look back at me with such elation, 'yay!  Congrats!' I force a smile each and every time and say thanks.  I sometimes even pump my arms in the air in confidence in case they don't buy my smile as genuine.  It gets harder as each additional person congratulates me.  But no matter what, I can't help the loneliness I feel inside.  I mean, I know I'm not alone. I've got an amazing partner, incredible friends, unconditional loving family, and co-workers who have my back.  But for this week after I have ended treatment, I feel more depressed than I ever have in my entire life, including when I found out that I had cancer.  Ridiculous, right?  And then feeling like it is ridiculous probably makes me feel more depressed.  I had tried so hard throughout all of treatment to stay out of my head.  I'd allow myself time to grieve, and feel whatever emotions I had, but I'd force myself to jump right back into my routine.  Only now that treatment is over, there is no more routine.  No activity that actually says I'm taking care of this cancer thing right now.  So if I'm not doing anything to rid my body, what am I doing exactly? Just sitting and waiting for my body to heal.  And even then, what?  

My best friend, who happens to be a psychotherapist, says, 'In my experience, people are unable to feel when they have to focus on surviving. It's once their body determines that they are safe that they start to get all the feelings attached to that experience.' Well that explains it ...sort of. It's the first time I feel true depression.  My body aches and feels as if I'm an eighty year old woman.  I sit for ten minutes and go to stand, but my hips and knees refuse to catch up.  So as my body is supposed to be healing it actually feels like its falling apart more now than ever before.  The only yoga I can take right now is filled with older women, and is, no offense to those there, but too geriatric for me.  I need something to kick me in the ass.  My gardening helps but still isn't enough.  

What I realized at the beginning of all of this, almost nine months ago, is that the waiting is worse than the actual cancer.  And now, both my mind and body know it. The doctors themselves even say they can't 100% for sure tell me that all of the chemo and radiation worked. It's all just 'insurance policies.' The only way for me to ensure that I come out of all of this cancer free is to demand a full body scan.  See, insurance companies don't think the possible percentage of cancer still being present is high enough to warrant the cost of a PET scan.  And the percentage of those that still have cancer is so low that it's actually cheaper to pay for more treatments later down the road (harsher, more intense, and most likely longer durations) for the few that still have cancer than for PET scans for the many that may have already been cured.  Therefore, the rely on these 'insurance policies' to take care of it for them.  Well, I'm sorry, but I didn't go through all of this to NOT make sure that it all worked.  But until then, I have to sit and be in my head, and try to figure out the best way to get through this depression while working and taking care of kids.  

(and now that I can look back on that week, it was such a glimpse. I remember vividly the loneliness and sorrow, and helplessness especially.  But, as with everything else in life, it passes.)