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Emotional health after cancer: How are you doing really?
It struck me after my recent appointment with my oncologist how less focus is put on the emotional aspect of a cancer patient. I go to clinic I am checked in. I am asked in passing how I feel. Mostly I just say I am OK. It’s all routine. I saw my doctor he examined me we discussed the plan of action for my scans blood work. When a cancer patient is asked a how they feel often it’s “medical”. How do you “physically”feel.
Now that I am a “routine” patient at my cancer center no one stops to ask how I am “emotionally”. Don’t get me wrong there are people you can talk to. I feel things become so routine and some days I feel less emotionally “fit” than others. I never like going to the cancer center it stresses me. I am better about it but it is still a source of “depression “ and anxiety for me. When I feel this way I need routine. On my most recent visit I was given an “wrist band” to wear. I felt “branded”. Not only do I have to hold on to the appointment reminder “disc” now I am given an wrist band. It bothered me. So if you are a patient you can easily be identified by the disc and now and a wrist band. That my sound nit picky but I notice everything. If it bothers me it must bother other people as well. What would be good would be a place for patients, all patients, just patients to check in.
Ask us how we are today. Ask how we are coping. Ask care givers who bring in patients how they are coping. They should have “therapy” dogs on patrol. I love dogs and I know that would comfort me. It would take away some of the anxiety I feel each time I go to the cancer center. I am still “new” to my cancer. It’s been 6 months since my cancer diagnosis perhaps that is why I experience so much anxiety. I haven’t “accepted “ my cancer. It isn’t OK I have it. I am working through this.
Asking me how I am is a loaded question. Physically I am OK. Emotionally on some days I can be a bit of a “wreck”. The mortality aspect for me is a source of great distress at times. I realize I need to have perspective. Take one day at a time. Some days I could use a hug because even though I am adult it is scary to go to the cancer center and some days the child in me is more on the surface than the adult me. So I need to reel in the child and let the adult take hold.
Someone suggested mantras. I use one when I feel I need it. I tell myself it will be OK. It’s just a visit it’s just blood work it will be OK. That helps.
I believe all cancer patients have PTSD to some extent. I know I have it. This experience has traumatized me. Feeling sick, having symptoms, the diagnosis, the surgery, the recovery, the appointments, the blood work, the scans, the exams, the probing, going back to work, trying to regain “normalcy”, realizing there is a “new” normal, learning to live life the best you can. It is a bit much. It does get better and has gotten better. So when I am asked how I am doing it is a complex question and the answer on some days is convoluted.
At work people always ask how I am no one knows about my cancer because that is my busy but people know I was “sick”. I answer I am OK and move on because the question for me is complex. I would like to respond “ are you asking how I am physically or emotionally?”. No one has time for that. It takes too long.
My close friend asked me how I was and she and asked, “how are you really?”. In this “instant” and mostly impersonal world I am learning how the simple things, the unspoken words, the touch or hug, are often the most impacting. Cancer is teaching me to pay attention to what is around me, next to me, near by. Life is so precious don’t waste it.
How are you feeling today? How are you really? Do you need a hug? Are you feeling sad today? Is there something I can do for you right now?
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Cancer may not be a death sentence, but it is a life sentence.
As a uterine cancer survivor, life has been divided into B.C. (before cancer) and A.D. (after diagnosis).
I'm doing fine physically, and grateful for that, but my mental health has taken a hit that probably terminal.
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6 Reactions@rhongirl i think I meant the above for you.
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1 ReactionBeautiful words! Thank you!
The way you explained your councilor is exactly how I feel talking to her. God sent me her. She is an Angel and has helped me process so much! 💖
Can I ask details of your diagnosis to give me some hope. Are they in another post?
So glad you are feeling better 12 yrs out. I just started. I Am deciding whether to take tamoxifen.
@sunny98 Thank you for posting. This does seem to be the forgotten topic in the cancer world of topics. It seems that everything else takes the priority, bumping the emotional further and further down "the list" (which of course, makes sense, because if we don't prioritize the physical, none of us would be here). What I appreciate is that you are 12 years out and that you are writing about the emotional aftermath. And I agree with you, it is a silent suffering of sorts . . . since everyone else sees you as whole again because your physical body is not being ravaged by chemo, surgery or radiation at the moment. I am 3 years out from TNBC and 2 years out from endometrial. Emotionally, when I'd finished the chemo for TNBC and my hair was growing back, I felt like I had a handle (at least in part) of the emotional leftovers. . . and then came the uterine cancer. Not the same beast as the first, but still yet from the cancer-camp. That diagnosis hit me broadside. I was not expecting that - surely, after all that chemo that I had endured. Thankfully, though, the diagnosis meant robotic surgery, no chemo. But I had to add another surgery to my "list" that already had a number of procedures yet to do. This is my first summer in four years that did not have a surgery schedule. A milestone for me. 🙂
I wish I could say I have traveled through far enough on the emotional side of things, but I'm unable to say that yet. What I've realized as of late is that my inside is still yet so tired, and there is not a lot of margin for error in my daily - meaning, it doesn't take a lot to throw me off my game (and BTW, my "game" doesn't look the same as before cancer). I reengaged into my life. . . went back to running my business, took on a kitchen remodel that I'd been planning for years, and went back to much of my former life. . . . but the truth is, my life today is not my former life anymore. And there is a sort of wrestling with that. I miss the energy I once had, and the energizer-bunny type of positivity. Of course, not every day was wonderful before cancer, but it can be challenging to remind yourself of this after cancer, when that experience colorizes everything you see and feel moving forward.
I started being more transparent with my GYN, and we talked about what I could do if I needed (medication). I chose, rather, to seek out the professional opinion of a Christian psychologist I know, and just started the course of meeting with him regularly. Sitting in that office gives me a safe space to unload everything I've been carrying, helps me validate the events that happened to me, and begin to work through what is left over. There are days I don't feel very warrior-like, but I remind myself that feelings cannot always be trusted, and I tell myself the truth about what I've been through. "Keep pushing forward, baby!" That makes me smile . . .because it is in the push that we move forward - even if only not to lose ground and fall back. Sometimes, it's enough just to maintain. 🙂
Thank you again for your post. It's important for those of us who have recently exited the cancer corral to know that it's okay that this thing takes time.
Blessings. 😉
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8 ReactionsWow! This is a VERY IMPORTANT SUBJECT! It is a struggle emotionally/mentally/ physically! I totally understand! Everyone is so happy we’re alive and so are we but there is a grieving process when we lose our old me and an acceptance process for the NEW ME! It takes time and it DOES get better. it’s a silent internal suffering. It doesn’t mean we’re not grateful or that we’re vain, we just need time! Im 12 years out and i can say it definitely took time but i’m very happy now! I didn’t think I would EVER be whole again but I am! Try to continue living life as normal as possible but do allow yourself your grief. I had to do a lot of self talk. I had to scold myself for my self pity many times too! But this grief is REAL. It gets better! Keep pushing forward baby! We’re warriors!
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7 ReactionsI think yours is the best response yet ❤️
Thanks for your good wishes Lori : )
Agree and good for you!
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1 ReactionI admire each of you for your realistic, but positive outlook every day. Your lives are examples of what cancer diagnosis does to each of us. Being realistic is wise followed by a choice each day to find the sunshine and self-talk positive thoughts.
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