This is a different version of the same post, below. This one I wrote to the YSC boards. Writing as therapy, I suppose. Maybe by writing it I can write it out of my system.

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I just have to rant.

I had Herceptin today. My onc ran into me and said, "I knew you'd be in and I wanted to discuss something with you." (uh-oh) She said, "It's really probably nothing but there was a 2.2cm spot on your chest on your last (6/14) MRI, and you need an X-ray to confirm that it's nothing."

CRAP.

She repeated all the things that it probably was (probably not mets), and she's so fabulous and wonderful and thorough, and reassuring, but the thing is, nothing can reassure me any more. The statistics are almost meaningless to me. I mean, I've heard "it's probably nothing" before, and I got breast cancer (and double mastectomies, chemo, etc.). "Probably" doesn't mean a damn thing to me any more when it comes to this beast.

So then I sat through Herceptin, x-ray paperwork in my hand, telling myself to stop having a fit and to calm down. Of course, that didn't work.

And it was nothing. The tech said, "Don't bug your doc until Monday at earliest" but, not being overly compliant with such things and being utterly unwilling to have another ruined weekend, I marched straight to my doc's office and asked if she could pull up the results (thank God for computers with instant information). She viewed the x-rays, and declared that I "have the loveliest lungs [she's] ever seen." Nothing to worry about.

But now I'm exhausted, and madder than hell.I have fought so hard to put this behind me. I wore a sassy cleavage-revealing dress to Herceptin today, proving to myself and the world that I Do Not Look Like a Cancer Patient. I wanted to show everyone in the treatment center that they, too, could be healthy and look great again. I wanted to prove to myself that I did not fit in at the chemo ward. I wanted to look like -and feel like- the antithesis of a cancer patient.

But the thing that makes me mad, furious, boiling, is that there is not a damn thing that I can do on the inside to prevent the fear from boiling over again. The cancer is in charge, not me, and a pretty, hip dress and lip gloss can fool the world, but if cancer wants to come back, it will. Simple as that. I can dress to impress (to impress myself, mostly) and I can run and mother my daughter and volunteer and fundraise and speak for the cause and it doesn't make a damn bit of difference. I did a ton of treatment, and that may not make a difference either.Two years out, and cancer still knows how to grab me by the neck and shove me against the wall, just for fun, just to mess with me. The fact that cancer walked away without leaving a mark this time doesn't placate me....I'm just so damn tired of being messed with. And I'm tired to realize that I just have to accept this behaviour, to live with the fear when it arises, and to acknowledge that it's out of my hands.

Cancer is a bully and I can't report him to the principal to get him expelled. Instead, I slink along the hallways, furtively glancing left and right to see if he's there, and with every scan or test I feel him throw me into the lockers and frisk me for my lunch money. The fact that he chuckles nastily and then walks away without leaving a bruise is of little consolation; I know that next time I might get beaten senseless.(And I have no idea where that analogy came from. I was never bullied....!)

So I'm venting, ranting, raging at the unfairness of it all. Two years out and I'm doing everything right and I'm cancer free and god-damn-it I want to be past all of this! I want to be invincible, and you'd think it wouldn't surprise me any more to remember how mortal I am, but each reminder hurts just as much as the one before.Damnit.

(And for the girls out there who are newer at this than I, I will add just one little tiny PollyAnna note at the bottom. Most days are much, much, much better than this. Sometimes I do forget about the bully....and that's perhaps why I'm so mad about him today. I thought he was gone for good, or at least for a few more months, and he surprised me. I don't like that kind of surprise. But most days are pretty darn good, not like what I'm describing here. Today was just lousy.)

Thanks for letting me rage at it all. I thought if anyone understood, it would be you ladies.