Facing the Fear

So chemo is over. I’m getting lots of congratulations and cheers. So why am I not cheering? Because I’m afraid. I have a week until my CT scan, and until then, my mind is everywhere. Am I gaining weight because I’m eating too much or is something growing in there? Yesterday was a particularly bad day. I was feeling weak and altogether not great, and I was sedentary, which of course put my thinking, and ruminating, into overtime. The dread was magnified. The exhaustion was overwhelming. I vowed that today would be better, but so far, I’m feeling much the same so I thought writing it out might help. It frequently does. So here is what I know— my last scan midway through chemo was clear. My last CA-125 a few weeks ago was 9. And let’s face it, whatever is going on inside me is out of my control. My rational being tells me all is well. And that other little gnawing voice questioning that, well, it’s part of who I am as well, but I have met some pretty great women who have weathered recurrence and they are living great lives. Holy crap, I don’t want that, but if in a week, or a year, or if I’m 10 years I am faced with that I hope I can have their grace and optimism. I’ve done pretty well so far. I’ve tried to do everything I physically can to lead a normal life. Everyone, no matter what he or she is facing, deserves a day to wallow, and I had that yesterday. That brings us to today, which will slip away if I don’t do something about it. So here’s the plan: bake something with the rhubarb in the refrigerator. Plan and prepare a nice dinner. Unpack more summer clothes. Whatever I find out in a week will still mean my life goes on. I start maintenance treatment with immunotherapy the day after my scan. I will once again feel taken care of. And whatever happens, I have to remember I am in control. I’ve got this.