How could I ask for more?

August 29th- my 6-month follow-up appointment. After attending the retreat I found myself worrying a little more about the possibilities for these appointments. I had heard numerous stories that weekend where young cancer survivors had to face cancer a second and/or third time--each one of them expressed how much hope and courage they had after battling cancer the first time. And each one of them also expressed just how very difficult it was to have all of those hopes crushed when their doctors informed them that their cancer had returned. For those battling breast cancer, it is particularly crushing to hear of a recurrence because recurrence means that the cancer has metastisized to other organs and is then considered "uncurable." That word is just plain debilitating and discouraging. I know that there is a possibility that I could face that word some day. And that possibility scares me to death.

However, I cannot spend what time I do have worrying about things which are simply out of my control. While I am healthy, I want to feel happy, peaceful, and content ... not fearful, stressed, and uncomfortable. I want to focus on the 90% possibility that my cancer will not return and that I will be given the chance to live a healthy, happy, and normal life. It is easy to spend for us to spend our time engulfed in the darkness that life throws at us. I choose to be challenged to see the light. And if that uncontrollable darkness decides to return, I will deal with it when necessary.

I went to the appointment and simply tried to find a calm place within myself. There was no point in attempting to anticipate what would happen. I sat in the office and waited ... and waited ... again--like I used to do every few weeks just 6 months earlier. I forgot how much of my life over the past year had been spent in these hospital rooms. Ugggh. I suddenly felt thankful that I was now able to live a "normal" life, rather than dividing all my time up between my bedroom and the hospital.

Dr. MacCormick entered the room. I was actually surprised. He hadn't come to my last few appointments. He told me that everything looked excellent. He seemed very pleased with the way everything looked, but his comments did not make me feel overly confident: "Everything looks perfect--on paper. But unfortunately I cannot tell you what your future holds." Of course you cannot tell me what my future holds. That was unnecessary. I felt that although it was unintentional, his words were discouraging. I would like to leave my follow-up appointments feeling hopeful and courageous, not confused and helpless. Afterall, strength of the mind has a great deal to do with strength of the body--that is definitely one thing I have learned from cancer.

I shook off the comments and thought about how lucky I was to have been able to bounce back so quickly from all the mental and physical turmoil my body had endured for an entire year--surgery, chemo, tamoxifen, and more stress than I could have ever imagined--and here I am, feeling healthy, with a body that appears to be in great condition. How could I ask for more?