The day I got my first scan results to find out if the cancer treatments were working was nerve-racking for me. I sat in the waiting room crying. I didn’t care who saw or heard me. I was afraid. I was afraid to hear what my oncologist had to say.
My husband and I entered her office and sat down. She seemed happy. Why wouldn’t she? She didn’t have cancer, I did. Then she told me those words I longed to hear, “Your scan shows no sign of cancer.” I was crying again, this time it was tears of joy. We killed it! We killed the Big C!
I was so relieved and over the next few months that relief turned into what some might call, “crazy time.” I wanted to run away. To run away from what, I didn’t know. I just wanted to run. Maybe it was … an urge to run “toward” life. I wanted to be outdoors. To drive places. To go dancing. To live life. I mean really live life! I stopped caring what others thought of me. My comfort and happiness became number one on my priority list.
I developed a crush on my colorectal surgeon. It was more a schoolgirl crush, I found myself thinking about him all the time. I wondered if he was thinking about me. Looking back, I can laugh at my behavior. My surgeon is almost twenty years my junior and happily married with children. Other survivors told me that it was natural to feel that way about my doctor. After all, he saved my life.
My crazy thoughts and crush eventually calmed down but my new attitude about life never changed. It’s my new normal and I am happy to be living it.