Yet cancer has this way of hovering, like that black cloud that continues to follow you wherever you go. I’ve felt this black cloud every day since I was diagnosed, though the way I picture it is more like a Dementor from the Harry Potter series. A few words I think to best describe a Dementor: Dark. Powerful. Evil.
My black cloud has taken on this shape. This is cancer, marking its territory. Even though I’ve completed my treatment, the Dementor is still there. Some days it’s simply lurking behind me, other days it taunts me, and then there are the days when it slaps me so hard in the face I feel all the wind has been completely knocked out of me. Those are the days when sadness and fear rule the roost. And it appears silly Katniss went out without her quiver.
Stories of people losing their lives to cancer, whether I knew them or not, cut right through me now. I feel an actual constriction at my throat, and that damn Dementor sneaking in to chisel away a little piece of my spirit. Why did they lose their battle? Why did they have to go to battle in the first place? Why, dammit, why?
And then there’s recurrence – every cancer survivor’s worst fear. My heart honestly can’t take me doing research to see if there’s any validity behind this claim, but based on people I’ve met and stories I’ve heard, it seems as though cancer comes back with a vengeance. It’s as if the first go around was just a small sampling of what’s to come. Something bigger, something badder, is lingering in the distance. In these moments, fear like I’ve never felt before takes residence. That could be me. And here comes the Dementor, threatening to cut off my air supply, leaving me practically frozen in my place. The doctors can rattle off statistics that reveal better odds regarding recurrence, but they’re just not enough to keep the Dementor away.
I look at photos of myself from just a few years ago and all I can think is, “I miss that girl.” I miss the girl who had no idea what it was like to have a Dementor creeping overhead. I miss waking up and not thinking about cancer. I miss the carefree steps I took each day and didn’t even realize it. I miss going to the doctor only once or twice a year for merely a check-up, when an oncologist was someone I had only heard of other people having to visit. I miss going to bed each night with just the daily stressors on my mind, versus the leaden weight I now bear on my shoulders. I miss so much about that girl that I often find myself squeezing my eyes shut and wishing I could be her again. I know I can’t.
It is a challenging task, but I’m trying to find peace with the girl I am today. That girl in the photo didn’t know the treasure she had sitting right under her nose: the people in her life. Fancy clothes and extravagant things didn’t get me through cancer – my supporters did. There is no greater gift than the relationships I have with my family, friends, and loved ones. My life is very rich because of this, and it serves as the fuel that keeps me moving forward each day.
Having a little inner Katniss isn’t so bad either.
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