Sugar Crash (Yes, I Know This Post is Ungrateful and Snarky and Poorly Written, and No, I Don't Care)

Ever since I found out I was in remission, I've been so happy.  I mean, I just walk around thinking to myself, "I didn't know anyone could be this happy."  I'm happy all of the time.  Well, not all the time, no one is happy all the time of course, that would be crazy.  But definitely most of the time.  Who wouldn't be happy that they are in remission?  Not me, because I am happy a good portion of the time.  At least half.  Give or take.  Why, aren't you?  What's with the third degree anyway?

Okay, I give in.  I have no glow, no cancer-free natural smile, no rose-colored glasses, nothing.  I am an ungrateful wench who doesn't know how good she has it.  THERE, you happy now?

I don't feel any different.  I still have to go to dialysis, I'm still hard of hearing, I still hobble around from arthritis, I still have to take chemo for Christ's sake!  I thought being cancer-free would be a little more... well, cancer-free.   But every day is still all about cancer.   I can feel the black cloud of Recurrence hovering over me as I try to live a normal life.  I don't know what to talk about when people ask me how I am doing.  I just don't know how to take cancer out of the equation. 

And I feel guilty, oh God, so guilty.   I know there are millions of people who would kill for what I have now.  I was one of them for so long, I would have given up all my worldly possessions and my eternal soul, cut off both my arms, to see that clean CT scan that I saw last week.  So why aren't I happy?  Why am I not jumping for joy, sucking the marrow out of life, spreading laughter and good cheer to all those I pass and...  you know, that kind of shit?

I never would have expected to be in such a funk after receiving such good news.  It is one of those strange, crazy unpredictable human emotions.  I literally don't know what to do with myself.  I am currently trying to cultivate a middle ground between sobbing hysteria and paralyzing fear in which to live my post-cancer my days, but I am pretty much stuck in hardcore blase.  Have I become so accustomed to disappointments and letdowns that I have forgotten how to be happy?  That's what scares me the most, the possibility that cancer has ripped from me all my residual cheerfulness and made me fearful of being happy, lest it be unceremoniously jerked away yet again.

Or maybe I'm just pissed off that I don't feel better yet.  Or I don't have enough distance yet.  Or any one of millions of possible reasons.  Either way, don't be surprised if you get a sneer instead of cheer if you excitedly tell me, "Congratulations!"

Comments

[Katie]

I think that instant sense of relief and joy you want to happen is often overshadowed by the reality of not feeling well. I know I equated remission with feeling well, good health and all that crap. Sometimes that takes a while to catch up and it sucks.

Just because you aren't throwing a block party to celebrate doesn't mean you don't deserve it. You're allowed to be bitter and angry, even once you hear those words.

[Jeannette]

As much as we would like to say that cancer doesn't change us, it does. But at the same time, healing changes us too. Both take time. I remember just finishing my last chemo (literally the needle coming out of my arm) and people congratulating me and making me feel weird for not being happy. I still had chemo and still had side effects to deal with and I felt crappy! Then the feelings of 'it-isn't-really-ever-over-is-it-?' started in. It was a tumultuous time for me and I still have those days now almost nine months since my last chemo (not that I am counting).

Just yesterday I was at an early morning meeting and I hadn't had coffee yet and I found myslef singing along with the music that was being piped into the room. I do not even smile before coffee. I couldn't understand it. I kept singing all day (much to the chagrin of anyone who could hear me). When I found it happening again today I really stopped to think about it. I have found joy sneakily creeping back into my life since my six month check-up. Just as slowly as the cancer died in me, the joy is slowly coming back. It is not a switch you turn on and off. I haven't returned to the pre-cancer me, but I likely won't. Give yourself a break.

Enjoy the new house and just be sure to shut the blinds, lock the doors, and extinguish all flames BEFORE you turn up the music and start dancing with youg dog!

[Kathleen]

It's entirely possible to be very thankful for something while still dealing with the day to day reality that things still kinda suck.

Also, you've been through hell. The CT scan does not change what you've already been through and what you are still going through.

If people don't understand your perfectly normal emotions right now, then fuck 'em. As for the guilt? Show it the door. Your dealing with a lot and doing your best. Don't beat yourself up for being human...and a very cool human at that.

[Jen]

Oh, I am with you my friend. I too had the same reaction last year. I remember my friends all threw me a kind of "remission party" and I was planning on getting wasted and going nuts, but I was stone cold sober and miserable. Because unforunately, you want and want and want to get to where we are, but once you are there, it's almost not enough in a way. I know for me, I just want it all to be over, totally, and infact while I am wishing, I want it to never have had begun. But we can't change those things, so don't feel bad about your lack of great enthusiasm. I think it's natural, or at least that is what I tell myself. By the way what happened to the beaglel / jack russell mix you found, I wanted to hear about it. Not that you don't have more important things to think of! hugs!

[Cary]

Hi, I just found your blog via cancerbaby :)

My wife's been fighting satge IV Unknown Primary cancer for 3-years, and I can imagine that if and when she goes into remission it will probably be very, very difficult to move past the trauma and constant dissapointment of all these years of being told, "no, the tumors haven't shrunk," or "you've failed treatment." (Who are you kidding, doc? The treatment failed me! moron.)

Anyways, it's true that many envy your remission, but that doesn't mean that you don't have a right to envy those who've never been through treatment at all :)

I think the psychological trauma, and all the side-effects, will probably take a long time, and some good TLC, to finally fade off into memories. I'll be praying that you start feeling better soon. It's summer. I hope you can get out and enjoy it!

[lauren]

Ah Rae you never cease to amaze me. You have every right to feel exactly the way you do and fuck and forget anyone who would call you ungrateful. The fact that you're in remission doesn't erase the fact that you've been thru some really shitty stuff.

So with that being said I leave you with a SATC moment that seems appropriate b/c I know you'll understand. Remember when Miranda got pregnant and she went around "faking a sonogram" just b/c she didn't get all warm&fuzzy after finding out she was having a boy? And then finally, on her own time, when Brady 1st kicked, she felt connected to him and happy? Same goes. You'll be happy when its time for you, not when a million people yell "congratulations" at you.
Wait for the first kick.

[Maureen McHugh]

I just read that you're in remission! I'm happy! I'm dancing! I don't care if you are or not.

On the other hand, the longer I was in chemo, the nastier I got and nobody understood. I was clear in all scans and tests, and everything was going good, so why wasn't I happy? BECAUSE, MORONS, I WAS STILL BEING SYSTEMICALLY POISONED ON A REGULAR BASIS! Chemo sucks. Dialysis sucks. Being deaf sucks.

We'll all be properly grateful when we're dead. For now I intend to be snarky about my crewcut (charming on a waif, bull-dyke on a middle-aged woman) and irritated about post-chemo fatigue. And I'm fat. And I don't care if I could have been dead, it still really bothers me that I'm fat. Cancer, even cancer-lite, has not made me wise. This is not Tuesdays with Morrie.

[Spike]

Rae,

I totally get it.
I finished chemo 9 months ago and I have been in such a wretched funk the last while, it's horrendous.
I remember when I was doing chemo and all I could think about was how sweet it would be to be done and to get my life back.
It's been 9 months and I have been busting my ass to get everything back on track and then some, and all I feel is that I am falling behind. That I am just an imposter and that I can't keep up with the pace that "regular" people set.
And me, another middle-aged bull-dyke visiting your page (so Rae, what is it with you and the old bull dykes, eh?), I find myself crying at the most unfortunate times.
My oncologist warned me that life wasn't just a parade of sunshine and puppies the minute one finishes chemo, but I thought I would be different than that.
Turns out, I am not so different from that.
I have decided that it's just another part of the cancer escapade that I have to go through. The hard part for me is that I had lots of support from my friends and loved ones for the treatment, but people don't understand that one often becomes a new variety of basket case after the treatment, so I have felt pretty alone when it comes to dealing with it all.
I don't know if that rings any bells for you or not.
I hope that it gets better for you soon and that you know it's a part of the bigger picture of getting back on your feet.