Although chemotherapy is over, I am still scheduled to go into Dr. K’s office every three weeks for a Herceptin infusion —as you may recall, my overachieving cancer cells tested positive for HER2, and this means I need targeted therapy (that is, a non-chemo extra drug) for a full year.
My Herceptin infusions are usually scheduled on a Friday (just like my old chemo sessions), but, since Dr. K. had to travel, this time my infusion was moved up to Wednesday and, as luck would have it, I failed to add it to my calendar…
On Tuesday morning, I received an automatic reminder on my cellphone, and only then it hit me that I was scheduled for a new Herceptin round.
“Wow!”, I thought to myself puzzled. “Did I almost forget about my cancer-prevention treatment?” Between my new head-of-household reality, kids’ schedule and coffee-shop daydreaming, life had been busy, and three weeks had lapsed in the blink of an eye…
An easy way to explain my almost-missed appointment would be to focus on the fact that I never put it on my calendar. But, with over twenty years of therapy under my belt, that would be a simplistic —dare I say, shallow and almost intelligence-insulting?— way to look at things.
So, I paused to think deeper, looking for the real why.
Option A: I don't like my targeted-therapy sessions.
Option B: I am scared of a cancer come-back.
Option C: The fact that I am feeling and looking strong makes me forget I am still undergoing cancer-treatment.
Hmmmm…. There is some truth to each of these, but, since I did not include an all-of-the-above alternative, I will go with Option C.
You see… with my glass-half-full mindset, I have designed my own version of chemo-cancer patient, and, for the most part, I don’t look, sound or act like someone who is undergoing a H-U-M-O-N-G-O-U-S test in life.
The upside of it is that I can power-through this life test standing tall (even at 5 feet 4 inches!). I keep discovering what I am made of and how much I can endure, and I continue to be a strong role model for my daughters (and, quite frankly, for myself).
The downside of it is that, at times, I find myself stretched too thin, and the world around me is (or finds it easier to be) unaware of it —I am constantly giving, rarely taking, and wondering why can’t everyone stop pulling me in so many directions and simply take care of ME?!
This got me thinking…
Could this be an unintended consequence of the old “fake it until you make it"?
They say the way we see ourselves affects how we act and feel. We picture it, we act it, and we create a different future in our minds. But there is a difference between “faking it until you make it” and “acting it until you become it”.
The former is an image for the outside world. The latter, a true reality. And, in my case, there is a little bit of both.
I have created an image and a mindset of health, strength and style, and I feed off of it. Having said that, for the time being, my reality is still somewhere in between: I am cancer free, but I am not officially “cured” yet; I walk this journey with style and strength, but there is still a fragile part of me in healing mode; I can power-through it, but at times I have to take things slow…
So, here’s the moral of the story (for myself and anyone who might benefit of it), in cancer treatment and beyond: Without giving up my glass-half-full perspective, I have to remind myself I am still in treatment. I have to remind myself I can’t do it all alone.
Only then the world will stop pulling me in so many directions…
How will anyone else remember, when I, myself, almost forgot?
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