Doctor, Doctor

I’ve seen a lot of healthcare professionals recently. That included:

• my oncologist for my regular appointment (I see her every three months, and this was the second post-chemo check up),
• a gynecologist for a well-woman exam,
• a nutritionist for some diet advice,
• and a general practitioner because, well, I guess I felt it was important to have a GP.

And next month I have a dentist appointment and an appointment with Medical Faculty Associate’s Survivor Clinic.

On one hand, I tell myself I need these appointments. I need a gyno. I need a GP. I need clinical advice from a nutritionist. But on the other hand, I wonder if it’s too much and I’m doing it as a subconscious way to ensure that the healthcare world doesn’t forget about me.

“Hey, I’m still here. I had cancer; it might be gone now, but I still need attention and to be close to those who can care for me if I need care.”

It’s also a bit confusing because sometimes I’m not sure what doctor can play what role in my care. For instance, does seeing my oncologist every three months substitute for seeing a GP every year? Is seeing a gynecologic-oncologist the same as seeing a gynecologist? And can someone please be my personal assistant to keep track of all this crap?

Where is a girl to find answers?

 

Here’s to health and hair

Who has two thumbs, lots of thick hair, and a sunny disposition because she found out this morning that she is back to her pre-chemo weight?

MEEEEE!

I’m enjoying a healthy snack of raw bell pepper after my workout (in case you were wondering what the weird orange thing sticking out of my mouth is). Getting back in shape feels damn good. Today, I did a 2.6 mile run/walk in the glorious 70-degree “winter” weather. Now, a shower.

Last Year’s Anger

I haven’t posted in a while, which is probably a good sign that I haven’t thought lately about cancer.

To prompt this entry, I decided to look back at what I was writing this time last year. I had my MRI done mid-February and then an ultrasound a couple weeks later, and I wrote this post after the ultrasound but before my biopsies, on March 8, 2011.

“I just feel so angry that I’m 25 and I have to go through this… I’m angry that I got tested so young and I’m angry that I’m not being stronger.”

I’m struck by my expressions of anger, but what strikes me most is this feeling of being disconnected from the person who wrote that entry. It’s only been a year, and yet I keep saying in my head, “I am not that girl anymore.” When everything was happening, I was hyper-present for it all. The feelings felt deeper, the emotions were stronger, my head was right there, and now… it’s all a blurry vision. Sitting in the chemo suite hooked up to the wires. Prepping for surgery. Hanging out by my parents’ pool, bald. All just silent videos in my head.

Is it weird that I’m kind of saddened by this dulling of memory? By no means do I want to return to last year. But I don’t want to lose the memory or the feelings – the energy of fighting for my life and and focusing on me and knowing I had only one job to do – it kind of made things easier. Now, I’ve got my job, maintaining relationships, cooking, cleaning, deciding what to do on the weekend, making plans, paying bills. Cancer is hard work, but I’m starting to think that life is even harder.

As a side note, I want to share that I did sign up for a 5k race at the end of April and I’m proud to be training for it right now. Working out feels good – I pump myself up by saying, “Body, you betrayed me last year, and now I will run you into submission.” I also signed up for the First Descents program and I’ll be traveling to Colorado in September to rock climb with other young cancer survivors.