Survivors Guilt

I got some good news this week. Thanks to that pesky hospitalization where they were concerned with an infection, I got a chest x-ray. And the radiologist threw me a bone by adding in that my lymph nodes were smaller than on my June chest X-ray. Sweet! I talked to my oncologist, who agreed this was good news, and told me I could stop the med that is most like causing the super ugly rash on my legs. So overall, it’s been a good week for me.

And then, while I’m basking on my high that this is working, despite the issues, a friend of mine from college got some bad news about her cancer. Metastatic color cancer, and moving to palliative care. Got dammit! She actually sees my original oncologist down in Alexandria, and we’ve laughed over that a couple of times.

And I guess this triggered my first real bout of what they call “survivors guilt” in the cancer world. Cause here I am being all happy that mine is showing signs over going away after two treatments (or really, 1.5 bc the second wasn’t finished). Not that it’s been a cake walk or anything, but at least there is a light at the end of my tunnel.

This is where I should take my own advice. I really don’t like comparing experiences. Life is not the Tragedy Olympics, and if it was, IMHO, hodgkins wouldn’t even medal. But, I almost got kicked out of the hodgkins Facebook group for that attitude. Yet it’s hard not to think about how you seem to be getting off easy. 6 months (15 years ago) and maybe another 9-18 weeks. Measuring it in weeks and months, not years. I can still count my cancer-related surgeries on one hand. It’s probably one reason I’ve never really identified with all the cancer “survivor” and “fighter” platitudes. It’s a really sucky year, but then it’s over (hopefully). Chances are I won’t be able to put it out of my mind as easily this time, since it decides to tell me it’s never really over. But it’s not going to kill me.