Knowing Fear (Point #2)
Today I am grateful for the challenges and rewards of my job. I am also grateful for clementines (cuties)-an easy-to-peel and tasty snack.
Point of clarity #2: For me, fear of the known is less than fear of the unknown.
But it is still fear. The toughest fear I faced in my cancer diagnosis and treatment in 2008 was the period between my diagnosis and my first surgery. Believe me, there was plenty of fear once an MRI found a "suspicious area" in early May, followed by an ultrasound and then the biopsy on May 27. I knew there was a very real chance I had breast cancer, and the waiting was so hard. The two days from biopsy to confirmed diagnosis on May 29 had me thinking of Tom Petty's lyrics--"the waiting is the hardest part."
Once I knew it was cancer, however, the fear took on a different tone. Until surgery is done, there are so many unanswered questions--big questions like has cancer spread to the lymph nodes? Treatment plans are developed around surgery pathology results. From May 29 to July 17, I knew I had cancer in my body and I knew I wanted it out. And I feared the worst. Not always rational fears, but fears nonetheless. "The tumor is growing in these days and weeks." "If I go running, will I shake some cells loose and then they'll spread?" I saw my surgeon. I saw my oncologist. I had genetic testing. The 4th of July holiday was thrown in. My surgeon was out of town. Crazy-making. My oncologist's nurse tried to reassure me...she said this time-frame wasn't uncommon and that if my oncologist felt it needed to move along faster, it would be. Yeah, easy for you to say, but thanks for trying.
I was also afraid of the unknown that came with this, my first surgery, and my first time under anesthesia.
I was one sharp edge in those six weeks. The fear was palpable. After the first surgery delivered a huge relief with a clean sentinel node biopsy and my cancer was staged at Stage I, the edge was dulled.
Gratitude that my cancer was early stage and treatable.
Another time in my life when I knew a gripping fear was during my drinking days when I would have blackouts. The fear came the next day. It was pure mental torture having hours of blank memory, not knowing what I said or did and not always knowing who I had been with during those hours. Hangover and hell wrapped into one package. Fear of the unknown.
Gratitude that I survived those nights.
And so many parents out there can probably relate to this fear: you lose sight of your child momentarily--at the park, in the store, wherever. For those few seconds, my mind would go to the scariest places. My thoughts would be along the lines of "My son has been abducted and I will never see him again." Relief would flood through me when he was back in reach and in sight. Stark fear.
Gratitude that my son was safe and sound.
Fear is a human emotion none of us can fully escape and that is as it should be. It clarifies things. And for that I am grateful.
Point of clarity #2: For me, fear of the known is less than fear of the unknown.
But it is still fear. The toughest fear I faced in my cancer diagnosis and treatment in 2008 was the period between my diagnosis and my first surgery. Believe me, there was plenty of fear once an MRI found a "suspicious area" in early May, followed by an ultrasound and then the biopsy on May 27. I knew there was a very real chance I had breast cancer, and the waiting was so hard. The two days from biopsy to confirmed diagnosis on May 29 had me thinking of Tom Petty's lyrics--"the waiting is the hardest part."
Once I knew it was cancer, however, the fear took on a different tone. Until surgery is done, there are so many unanswered questions--big questions like has cancer spread to the lymph nodes? Treatment plans are developed around surgery pathology results. From May 29 to July 17, I knew I had cancer in my body and I knew I wanted it out. And I feared the worst. Not always rational fears, but fears nonetheless. "The tumor is growing in these days and weeks." "If I go running, will I shake some cells loose and then they'll spread?" I saw my surgeon. I saw my oncologist. I had genetic testing. The 4th of July holiday was thrown in. My surgeon was out of town. Crazy-making. My oncologist's nurse tried to reassure me...she said this time-frame wasn't uncommon and that if my oncologist felt it needed to move along faster, it would be. Yeah, easy for you to say, but thanks for trying.
I was also afraid of the unknown that came with this, my first surgery, and my first time under anesthesia.
I was one sharp edge in those six weeks. The fear was palpable. After the first surgery delivered a huge relief with a clean sentinel node biopsy and my cancer was staged at Stage I, the edge was dulled.
Gratitude that my cancer was early stage and treatable.
Another time in my life when I knew a gripping fear was during my drinking days when I would have blackouts. The fear came the next day. It was pure mental torture having hours of blank memory, not knowing what I said or did and not always knowing who I had been with during those hours. Hangover and hell wrapped into one package. Fear of the unknown.
Gratitude that I survived those nights.
And so many parents out there can probably relate to this fear: you lose sight of your child momentarily--at the park, in the store, wherever. For those few seconds, my mind would go to the scariest places. My thoughts would be along the lines of "My son has been abducted and I will never see him again." Relief would flood through me when he was back in reach and in sight. Stark fear.
Gratitude that my son was safe and sound.
Fear is a human emotion none of us can fully escape and that is as it should be. It clarifies things. And for that I am grateful.
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