Hello everyone. I debated writing this, or simply skipping it and retreating into my depression hole. In the end, I decided it was better to explore how I’m feeling through a short writing exercise. So I apologize this release is not as well planned and thought-out as my normal posts.
Sometimes I forget that people are reading this. My partner always tells me I’m not socially aware, and sometimes I say things out-loud that might sound better in my own head. I tend to agree with this assessment, and I’ve been thinking a lot about why this is. What I’ve come up with is that it’s a lingering effect of my adolescence as a wall-flower.
My nickname in high school was “The Ninja” because no one noticed when I entered or left a conversation. I think after such formative social years being ignored, unnoticed, or forgotten I’ve formed the subconscious opinion that people aren’t listening, aren’t paying attention. I’m socially oblivious, and it appears the rest of the world is oblivious to me. So I can say what I want when I want and to whomever I want because it has rarely made a difference to me before.
Writing this SubStack has opened my eyes to the fact that people are listening to me, and what I say and how I say it is really important. This has put a pressure on me that I haven’t felt very often in my life, as I recover from my socially stunted teenage years. You know, the rewards of being loved and the mortifying ordeal of being known, type of stuff.
All this is to say that I got some bad test results at my 6 month follow-up this week, and I’m struggling with how I feel about it and what I want to share about it. But first I think it’s important all of you know the results of the test are NOT related to my cancer returning (thank god). But rather the potential that in the wake of treatment I developed an autoimmune disease that requires life-long medication and management.
On the one-hand I’m relieved to know these side-effects I’m still experiencing years after chemotherapy might have a quick fix in the form of medication for this new condition. A strange part of me is ecstatic to have an explanation and a pathway to better quality of life, after years of being in the area of medicine where the cure is more painful than the disease.
On the other hand, I’m depressed as shit and extremely triggered in the PTSD sense. Waiting for test results to come back, even though the results aren’t tinged with my potential mortality, still sends panic down my spine in a sort of biological reaction that I can’t control. Walking into a new doctor’s office to talk about this new condition and what it means for my life feels just as scary in my body as my first time walking into Dana Farber Cancer Institute.
This all being said, I’m going to take the next few weeks to figure out what’s going on and get on this new medication, which will take some time to get used to. With that being said, my plan is to be back with a new post the first week of September.
Enjoy these hot and humid dog days of summer. I’ll be back in September when it's officially spooky season. And man, I’ve got some great scary stories to tell all of you.
Corinne