I’ll never forget the moment when my husband called from the Emergency Room to tell me that his CT results were back and “they found a mass”.
They found a mass.
Those words still barely register seven months later. Seven months, one colonoscopy, eight rounds of chemo, and three scans later. I know it’s not MY body that was overwhelmed by the cancer, but once cancer comes into your life, it will never not be a part of you. Over the course of the last seven months, I’ve come to realize that despite it not being my own personal diagnosis, my body feels the weight of this burden every day. All of my senses are heightened to react or respond to the memory of when cancer came knocking on our door.
The night of that phone call, I got into the car to drive to the hospital and immediately turned off the music. I did not want any song to be ruined by the memory of the scariest moment of my life. I did not want to risk the possibility that one day five years from now, I’d be brought to my knees in the middle of the grocery store if “that song” came on over the PA system.
I will never be able to look at another red jello packet without thinking of our time in the hospital. The beeping of a blood pressure machine at the doctor’s office still rattles me. I’m constantly scanning my husband’s body for jaundice in the eyes or whether he’s warm to the touch.
In the shower this morning, I felt a lump in my armpit. Upon further examination, I am pretty sure it’s an ingrown hair. But I can’t stop thinking about it. Every mole, every red spot, every headache feels like….maybe.
The reality is that cancer will never not be a part of my mind and body. He finishes his last round of chemo on Monday, but it doesn’t feel like a thing that we can ever check off of the list of things to worry about. This awful disease has made a home in our collective psyches and though we are walking through the process of finding therapists to start the mental part of the healing journey, I know we are in for a long road. As they say….the body keeps the score, and the score from this one is high.
PS – Get your colonoscopy!
Unruly Bodies 
Cancer is one of those illnesses that just…touches everyone involved. One way or another. I had three of my family members be diagnosed with cancer at the same time…and I lost all of them that the same time as well, only weeks apart from one another. Trust me, I know what it’s like. Those endless hospital appointments, the fear of receiving the results of each test they have to run, it’s so physically and emotionally exhausting; it makes you just want to…wake up and sigh in relief that it was all just a nightmare. I know the deep seated fear of “Am I next?”, I feel it every single day, you’re not alone there. I just want to say, you are so resilient, you and your husband. Both of you are so strong and I commend you for sticking together and supporting one another through this difficult time, not everyone has that privilege. Keep each other up, this is just one moment in time, I know its easier said…but you’ve come this far. Congratulations to your husband and congratulations to you too, your entire family as well; I wish you all the best on Monday and every moment after.
Music is so powerful in that it can take you right back to these traumatic moments. My younger brother passed away from childhood cancer many years ago, and there is a specific song that played at his funeral that I have to skip every time I hear it. The crazy thing it that my body’s reaction to the song is the same even after almost 15 years and despite the fact that I was 7 years old at the funeral. The body remembers things so vividly, even though I couldn’t tell you a detail about the funeral.