Unremarkable

Celebrating two years clear and my six-year cancerversary

On Monday, September 9^th I had clear scans—officially marking NED for over two years, the point at which my risk of recurrence drops dramatically.

Two days later, we celebrated my six-year cancerversary, without really celebrating it at all, in a way that makes me feel more curious than sad, as if not feeling like we had to make a big deal of it was a victory onto itself.

Unremarkable is the word I can’t shake when I try to describe how I’m feeling as I wrap up this year: my second year of all clear, the year after my year of recovery after four of active treatment.

And though it may sound negative, anyone who’s had cancer knows the relief of its clarity on a scan:

Findings:

Spleen – unremarkable

Pancreas – unremarkable

Adrenal gland – unremarkable

Abdominal nodes – no adenopathy

Etc.

After a year of reflecting and writing about my cancer treatment twice a week for Strive for Five, I’ve spent a year returning to ordinary time—and I’ll admit that I’ve gone back and forth about the role writing plays in it. I missed the positive impact writing has had on my mental health, and I’m frustrated to acknowledge that this alone hasn’t been motivation enough to sustain the practice.

Lately it just seems like there is too much to do, mostly for other people—and not enough energy left for something that feels optional or for myself.

It was a hands-on year with the kids, getting Evelyn to her freshman year of college (Auburn, which she’s loving despite the football season) and the twins through 7^th grade. Thus far, my personal experience suggests that 7^th grade is rough for everyone, but it was very hard for me to not feel responsible for any emotional eruption after so many years of the kids having to hold it together. It’s as if suddenly everyone felt safe having—and voicing—their own needs, and it was an adjustment for me to shift back into mothering and stepmothering.

Getting Evelyn to Auburn

I found some comfort in taking on Evelyn’s Auburn rush wardrobe needs, which put me into a familiar space: a list, a budget, a spreadsheet; hunting for bargains and exchanging links of possibilities via text. What the twins needed was less predictable, more time-intensive, and usually, ran directly counter to my desire to SOLVE versus just listen (when they were willing to talk) and/or just be with them (when they weren’t).

I got better at this sort of caregiving over time; and more than once, I found myself grateful to have the stamina and energy required to sustain it.

Past 7th grade! The first day of 8th

It feels like everyone has now settled into their respective school years, and now I’m focused on taking care of some delayed maintenance for myself, with so many doctors’ appointments sprinkled across the weeks that one of my colleagues asks me if I’m ok.

I’m fine, mostly.

My gynecologist tells me I don’t have to worry about the fibroids a radiologist thought was a problem that would eventually require my attention.

My vascular specialist wants to keep me on the twice-a-day blood thinner, probably forever.

I had a clear colonoscopy, the first since my diagnosis.

A podiatrist schedules an appointment to “pop off” the toenail on the toe that has been painful and on-and-off infected for three years, since chemo initially made it vulnerable to paronychia.

My primary care doctor wants me to see a dermatologist about a similarly regularly infected fingernail, which I’m secretly hoping clears itself up before I face losing that nail as well.

Less straightforward is the cause behind my on-going fatigue, bad enough that I struggle to make it through a workday without a nap. At first, I attributed my fatigue to chemo, and when it didn’t go away, I wondered if it was a function of menopause. I started exercising more and changed the way I ate and quit TikTok and eventually asked my doctor if I just needed to make peace with this new reality.

“Is this just the way life is now?”

“No!” she said, emphatically; and thus began a series of blood tests, of which we are currently in the midst, with a plan to try a few things over the next few months to see what might help.

Until then, I’m trying to be gentle with myself—which includes trying not to feel guilty about all the things I feel like I should do, even if (especially if) they are good for me.

So, you’ll hear from me here, occasionally—and when you aren’t hearing from me, you can safely assume my life is continuing to be “unremarkable”.

My next scans will be in mid-January—beginning a pace of being scanned every four versus every three months, until I graduate to every six. Hopefully by then, I’ll have figured out how to curb my fatigue, and my nails will be growing back. And whether with ten nails or not, my fingers are crossed that by the time I share that update, I’ll also be in position to start writing again more regularly about our increasingly unremarkable life.

The good life: pizza, Wisconsin old fashioneds, cuddles