5-Year Cancerversary

There is a lot about life that is cyclical. Trends, for instance. The 90s are really “in” right now, or so say my students. We were at a roller rink a few days ago, and every song they played was from 1990-2005. It was definitely creating an intense wave of nostalgia for this Millennial. Even though I haven’t roller skated in over a decade, I gave it a try, and I was painfully slow. Still, I kind of remembered how to turn and stop, which, I believe, are the most important bits. The boys are really enjoying ice-skating and rollerblading, so I’m sure we’ll be back again soon and that I’ll get more practice in.

Every few years, the Gregorian calendar will repeat itself, or at least certain days of the week will fall on the same day again. Because of Leap Day this year, March-December had the same date-days pairings as 2019. I didn’t notice that until the week before Christmas, when I recognized the pattern from five years ago: the weirdness of Christmas and New Year’s Day each on a Wednesday, breaking up the usual work week.

I remembered rushing home from my parents’ house on Christmas Day, a Wednesday, in 2019, in order to get to my biopsy on the morning of 26th, a Thursday. We spent the weekend after Christmas in 2019 driving down to visit family near Madison for our yearly extended family reunion. I spent the car ride trying not to be too nervous about the unknown biopsy results. Then on Monday, the 30th, I got the call with the cancer news.

I am incredibly grateful to be here to celebrate five years since that call. It has certainly been a whirlwind. Thankfully, I didn’t have any sort of health news that I was waiting on over this past weekend and no awful calls today. My scans have been clear since the end of treatment, and I’m very fortunate. I have to admit, though, that it sent a shiver down my spine reliving that calendar rotation, especially as my extended family rotates who hosts family Christmas, and– sure enough– it was my relatives near Madison who were up again this year! It was a pleasant visit and all, but these are the sorts of bizarre little coincidences that both interest me and freak me out a little.

There’s a phrase that’s tossed around a lot in the writing world: “imposter syndrome”, though I know it can apply to any field. Personally, I most often see it in social media groups where writers are querying literary agents and facing lots of rejection, losing hope that their writing is truly as good as they’d been told it was by teachers, family, other writers, etc. for years. I’ve felt that in my own writing life from time to time, and it usually brings me down for a while before I start writing a new novel, thinking this one is *the one*, the manuscript that will get through to an agent. It’s sort of a painful pattern, but it’s one that I’ve been relatively fine with repeating for years.

I feel something sort of like that as a cancer survivor occasionally, but it’s more complex. It’s a mixture of shock (did I really go through that?), extra shock (how the $%@! did I go through that?!?), sorrow (why did I survive when so many others don’t, and what can I do for them/others like them/in honor of them?), and determination (now that I have this extra time, what is my plan?). It’s all wrapped in a crunchy layer of self-doubt, like the writerly imposter syndrome.

Like with my writing, finding a new plan but sticking with the same general genre has been helpful. I’ve had this motivation to help others in some way, which led to my initial creation of bookmarks to hand out to other AYA patients/survivors at local cancer centers with a QR code link to resources. That led to working more closely with Mayo Clinic, where I received treatment; first, I volunteered to be part of a video resource to help other cancer patients and then I worked with the local cancer social worker to form a young adult-specific cancer support group, the first of its kind at Mayo. Amazingly (or maybe not), it was difficult for a major hospital known for being a leader in cancer treatment to help me get this much-needed group started, even though I’d be the one doing most of the work (without any compensation, of course). Maybe I was naive, but I was surprised by the number of hurdles. Despite struggles, the group finally got the green light and what last November was a tiny, uncertain meeting has grown to having a strong core of eight survivors and others asking about our group. We have found new resources and built strong connections for others. I’m so glad to have been able to start this support group.

I’ve also been lucky to get to know a lot of amazing people in the AYA cancer community over the last five years. Some of them make steps to distance themselves from the community after treatment because it’s what’s best for them, and I 100% support that decision. For me, I know that, like with my writing (and there are other connections!), this is something that is always going to be a part of me and that I need to use to help others. That’s always been my recipe for overcoming imposter syndrome, and, hey, since so many things are cyclical, it doesn’t seem like any reason for me to change that recipe now. 😉❤️

Every year at this season, I have something new to say about my experiences in survivorship. And next fall, I’m looking forward to throwing a party to celebrate 5 years cancer-free. I think my latest motto is, “There is always something to celebrate.” Happy New Year, all!

• 4th Cancerversary
• 3rd Cancerversary
• 2nd Cancerversary