073- Being a cancer survivor is HARD

Last Friday, August 23, was my one year sarcoma cancer-free-iversary. If you haven't read my blog posts about how my sarcoma diagnosis came about, you can find it HERE. There are a few other posts about what I went through last summer, and then one where I was declared cancer free HERE. Since then, I have been getting CT scans every 3-4 months at UC David Medical Center. Last Monday was the first time that I didn't need to see the surgeon right after the CT appointment, which meant we didn't get the results of the CT right away. It took about 48 hours to hear back from the doctor with the results. It was a pretty stressful 48 hours.

It’s strange to hear the words, “you’re still cancer-free” after months or years of living in fear every time I have a mammogram, blood work, or a CT scan. You’d think those words would give me peace and certainty. But what comes after isn’t that simple. Being a cancer survivor isn’t a destination; it’s a journey—one full of unique challenges. The physical scars may fade, but the emotional ones never disappear. Even if we don't think about it daily, we carry with us the nagging fear that the cancer might return..

There’s a term many of us have come to know all too well: scanxiety. It’s that gut-churning anxiety that creeps in as you approach your next scan or follow-up appointment. The days leading up to it can be a blur of worry, fear, and what-ifs. You try to live your life and stay positive, but the thought of that upcoming scan hangs over you, making it hard to focus during the day and to sleep at night. What if they find something? What if it’s back? What if, this time, it’s worse? As we drove to the last CT appointment, and neared UC Davis Medical Center, my scanxeity went through the roof. Just being near the medical center brought back all those feelings.

People often assume that once you’re declared cancer-free, you return to normal life. But what they don’t see is the internal struggle, the battle that continues long after the last chemotherapy session or tumor removal surgery. Every ache, every pain, every symptom—no matter how minor—can send your mind spiraling into dark places. Is it just a headache, or is it something more? Is this fatigue normal, or is it the cancer rearing its ugly head again?

You try to be strong, to reassure yourself that you’re okay. But the truth is, living with the fear of recurrence can be exhausting. It’s a constant balancing act, trying to live in the moment while that dark cloud lingers over you. You remind yourself to breathe, to focus on the positives, to embrace the life you’ve fought so hard for. But the fear is always there, just beneath the surface.

And then there’s what they call survivor's guilt. The guilt of surviving when others haven’t. The guilt of feeling afraid when you should be grateful. The guilt of not being able to just “move on.” People tell you how strong you are, how brave, but inside, you don’t always feel that way. You feel vulnerable, fragile, like a glass that could shatter with the slightest touch. I will say, though, that I don't always feel this way. Maybe it would be easier if I did feel this way; it just tends to creep in occasionally.

But despite all of this, we keep going. Because that’s what survivors do. We keep going, even when it’s hard, even when we’re scared, even when we don’t know what the future holds. We learn to live with the uncertainty, to find joy in the little things, to appreciate the moments of calm between the storms. We cherish the days when the fear is quiet, when we can breathe a little easier, when we can look in the mirror and see not just a survivor, but a warrior.

Being a cancer survivor is not just about surviving the disease; it’s about surviving what comes after. It’s about finding the courage to live each day fully, even when the fear of recurrence looms. It’s about recognizing the strength within us, even when we feel weak. It’s about knowing that, no matter what happens, we have already faced one of life’s greatest challenges—and we’re still here.

So, to all my fellow survivors out there, I see you. I know your fear, your anxiety, your pain. But I also know your strength, your resilience, your courage. We are more than our scars, more than our fears. We are survivors, and that is something no scan, no diagnosis, can ever take away from us.