Before my last scan–the one that showed progression–I was anxious. But that was because I knew something was up.
In the four plus years prior, I had let go of scanxiety. However, that was possible because of a sustained period of stability. Stability was the closest thing I’ve had to feeling truly safe in the last fourteen years and it was freaking glorious.
Now that I’m back on that active cancer rollercoaster, scans are once again something to be dreaded. However, there is a difference in how I feel this time around. It is not anxiety. Hell, I know what’s coming; it’s more like I just don’t want to know. It’s as if there’s a big fat court summons lying in a sealed envelope on my kitchen table and as long as I don’t open it I can keep pretending that it’s just not there.
Scanvoidance. That’s my new terminology. The goddamn it why-do-I-have to-live-these-month-to-month blues.
Gets old, it does. But then again, so have I. Older. And that’s something to embrace.
I’ll keep you posted.