When I posted about this last week, I actually had no idea it was a real thing.
Shortly after my post I thought, well, let's just look up post-cancer anxiety. What do you know? I found this and this. Interesting. I will reiterate here that, having had papillary thyroid cancer, I don't feel that I'm someone who has truly looked death in the face. Others may disagree with that, but this year, having known of a couple of guys in their late thirties who have really fought aggressive cancers (one has lost, and one continues to fight his colon cancer), it feels disingenuous to put myself in the same camp with them.
However, I will own up to the fact that I was scared, especially in the beginning, when I was just learning what it meant to have thyroid cancer. And I will also own up to the fact that cancer took over my summer. It was with me from May through August. I couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't get it out of my head. At times it would seem to leave, only to come back a few minutes later. 'Oh yeah. I have cancer. Damn it.'
So, to have something with me pretty intensely, and then to have it just gone... It's hard to just drop it and move on. In reading these posts, I don't think I have depression- although I haven't made my follow up appointments (*cough cough* I need to get on that...). I'm also not sleeping much. Otherwise, though, I would say that I'm enjoying life.
I think my issue is that I'm enjoying it so much. So much, that I'm worried that something- cancer, heart attack, whatever- will come along and take it from me before I'm ready to let it go. It's no longer the cancer that is ever-present. It's the anxiety that cancer, or something else, will return and ruin everything. Worry, lack of sleep, and probably doing too much because I don't want to miss anything. It's all coming together to make me anxious and restless.
You should see it around here. The place is a wreck. I'm too tired by day to get much done and too worried at night to get the sleep that I need. In addition to obligations, I'm also trying to work in things that I want to do- namely write, exercise, cook, and see friends. It's making my days packed with stuff to do while other things (cleaning!) are falling through the cracks.
I think I may be slowly coming to the realization that my life needs a little more balance in it and that (gasp) I may not be able to do everything. At least not with a one year old at home. I also need to realize that, realistically, I probably will not die next week. Or next month. If my grandparents are any indication, I should have at least another good 35-55 years left.
Realizations are good. Convincing myself may be a bit harder.