Monday, September 16, 2013


I think I've mentioned it before, but here I go again.  I'm not a fan of going to the doctors, never was, and now, it's even worse.  Today I had a routine visit with one of my many doctors.  What does that word even mean?  Routine?  Right now I feel like nothing in my life is routine, routine as it once was anyway.   I'm still making my way back and some days it feels like being content with this new life is in the distant future.   

Anyway, sitting in the doctor's office, filling out paperwork yet again, and rehashing the events of the past year and a half is not fun.  For several days before any appointment I can feel myself starting to tense up and stress about it.  This doctor was someone I happened to be meeting for the first time.  I wondered, "Would she have all my information?  Did she read my chart?"  It's already an unsettling feeling sitting there in a Johnny waiting for a doctor, but then  not knowing whether or not she will surprised by the 6 inch (yes, I actually measured it) scar across my chest, where my breast used to reside, is even worse.  Thankfully when she came in she knew my story.  

Throughout all my appointments, I'm afraid to exhale.  If I just take it as a routine, typical appointment, I'm expecting the other shoe to drop and be caught off-guard.  The visit, however, continued as a routine appointment, and all is well.  I even had good blood pressure, which is generally unheard of for me at any doctor's office.

Repeatedly, I am faced with the 5 year remission thing.  It replays constantly in my head.  "If the breast cancer is going to reoccur, it will most likely come back within 5 years.  Cancer survivors are living up to 5 years after diagnosis.  You will be taking tamoxifen for 5 years."  Some days I have no idea how my nerves are ever going to make it through the next 4 years.  There is no option, however, and there is no other way, other than to walk through it, just as I have up until this point.  On the days I am forced to look back and rehash the intruder, walking through it feels a little more like crawling.  But, somehow, each time, I make it to the other side.

Then, I remind myself of all the people who never have a return visit from the Big C, survivors who move forward and have routine appointments at the doctors for the rest of their lives.  I am more likely to be one of those people.  
And so, I do my best to carry on as I once did, with contentment, joy, faith and hope. 

The secret of your future is hidden in your daily routine.

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