It’s not all about cancer – except when it is
I have mets (metastasis, secondary tumors) in my bones, but the last chemo series greatly reduced them and I am pretty comfortable at the moment. Bone metastasis doesn’t scare me that much, probably because 1) pain control is available and effective and 2) I already have it, so I know what it’s like. What terrifies me is the possiblity of it spreading to the brain.
I am so afraid that I will lose my independence, that I’ll lose my sense of self, that I’ll need to be “managed” and “cared for” and “protected”. The possibility terrifies me.
Most of the time, the terror subsides to a low-level, fairly constant background anxiety. If I forget my keys, I worry about my memory. If I forget someone’s name, don’t recognize a face, if I have trouble with an arithmetical calculation. If I can’t think of a word or the name of something I am looking at, I panic. And if I notice that I am unusually joyful or unusually angry or unusually into shopping and spending money, or unusually fixated on an idea or an activity… I go ballistic. Is my mind going? Has the disease reached my brain? Am I on my way to being tied into a wheelchair and parked in front of some dayroom television?
Yes, I know this is over the top. I slow my breathing, focus on tangible, material things. Here and now, I feel my breathing. Here and now I feel the chair under me. Here and now I see my magnificent peace lily. Its large leaves and pale flowers calm me. Here and now, I am aware, awake, competent. And I calm myself.
Sometimes I feel like going to the oncologist and asking for a brain scan because of some new behavior that might indicate a personality change that could be a symptom of a tumor in one or another part of my brain. But I feel like an idiot, so I don’t ask. These sporadic fears and anxieties embarrass me. I take them as a sign that the cancer is winning this emotional war of attrition. (You see? Sometimes even I use the bellicose metaphors in talking about cancer.)
I use Occam’s razor a lot. Remember that? The idea is that if there are two possible reasons for something, the simpler reason is the more probable. If I am suddenly obsessed by shopping, spending money, thinking about buying things, fantasizing about what I would do with my new purchases (and this is out of character for me), that might be a tumor-related personality change. It might also be a reaction to anxiety. The simpler and more common explanation is that I am anxious around certain issues in my life. God knows I have plenty of that – and some of it doesn’t even have to do with cancer.
So I take measures to reduce my anxiety, and the shopping obsession gets back to reasonable proportions, thus proving the anxiety theory. And I can relax again until the next time.