cancerversaries

 I've been meaning to write about the experience of hitting my first set of cancerversaries since I started feeling them looming ahead of me, but it's also been such a strange and complex experience I don't even really know how to begin.* Last summer (2024) was a flurry of cancer-related milestones... there was the one-year anniversaries of the whirlwind experience of finding my lump, discovering it was cancer, and starting treatment, all punctuated by also finishing my full year of Herceptin infusions, and, two days later, getting my port removed. 

I knew hitting those milestones would feel significant, but they were an even more profound experience than I'd anticipated. I think the most surprising part was just how significant it felt to have my port removed. 

I've been deeply grateful for my port throughout treatment. It was weird and a little annoying, and never stopped feeling a bit tender, but it was SO MUCH BETTER than an IV for getting my infusions. I sang its praises to anyone who was debating between a port vs IV for chemo. 

It was only as I got close to finishing my infusions, and knowing I could get it removed soon, that I think I let myself acknowledge the fact that I absolutely hated having it. I knew it was necessary and important to have for treatment, so feeling negative towards it didn't really make sense (well, yeah, ok it totally made sense, but wasn't a helpful thing to think about). 

My last Herceptin infusion was Monday, July 29th. I was able to schedule the port removal for two days later, which was also the day right before the anniversary of starting chemo (Aug 1). 

Getting the port taken out completely transformed how I felt about facing that chemo anniversary. It was like I'd been holding my breath for a year, and could finally let it out. The procedure itself was super quick, and had such a unique feel given that the doctor, nurses, everyone involved was so elated about it. I realized it's probably one of the few procedures where patients are 100% happy about getting it done, and how fun that must be as a medical professional to be a part of. 

Afterwards, I sat in my car crying/laughing like a maniac. It took a while to stop. The relief I felt was... indescribable. I was positively giddy. Even though the incision was still sore from the removal, I immediately removed the little pillow from my car seatbelt. I was just so ready to be done. 

Before then, I'd been looking at that Aug 1st anniversary with some dread and apprehension. With my port removed, it was like this massive weight was lifted, and that date felt more like a true celebration than a reminder of something awful. I was blown away by the difference. 

A constant refrain since last summer has been "what a difference a year makes." That phrase has echoed in my head probably a million times. How strange and wondrous to look back 365 days and be in such a different phase of life (I wrote about this some on my birthday post). 

One of the strangest aspects of time passing is realizing when it was no longer correct to say "I got cancer last year." Having to stop and think about how much time has passed (it not being such a close, constant beast in my rearview mirror) is bizarre and wonderful. I now need to attach a year to my diagnosis date. 

These dates will follow me every year. I don't know what it will feel like to revisit them each time. It's been a fascinating exercise, seeing what catches me by surprise-- what feels significant in a way I hadn't expected, what actually passes almost without notice that I'd expected to be emotional. I imagine that all fades and eases each year. But is also an inescapable fact. 

The strangest part, to be honest, is knowing the statistic that 1 in 8 women will get breast cancer, most of them at older ages than I am now. Which means, some number of women I know are likely to face this diagnosis and go through at least some of what I did. (Some number of women I've known have gone through this and I may never have known of it) I hope I'm able to provide whatever guidance, support, reassurance, "hey look there's life after cancer" reminders, etc, whenever that is the case. 

*I wrote much of this back in September, but am just now actually publishing it