If I had any energy left after my one-year follow-up appointment this afternoon, I would probably blow up some balloons and put them up in my flat.
It was hard. My eyes are raw from crying. I used about two boxes of tissues – one in the waiting room and one in the exam room.
I cried in front of the receptionist. I cried in front of the nurse who checked my height and weight. I cried in front of the doctor, and I cried in front of the cancer nurse specialist.
Follow-up appointments are rough. You can go about your life for months, but you know that everything could change in a matter of seconds, in that same room where you first got the news. The. Exact. Same. Room.
I had a new doctor again, who asked me plenty of questions about how I was diagnosed, how it came to be, what tests were done, how thick the lining of my uterus had been on the MRI scan (I have no idea). As I was battling my way through my tears, she told me it was ok to cry. It was ok to be overwhelmed, to be traumatised. She told me that I had gone through a lot for someone so young – terribly young, and she could say that because we were exactly the same age.
I do not know why that comment struck me as odd. Why of all the things she said, that is the one that stayed with me.
But it is all said and done now. A quick exam, a lot of background info, a chat about any symptoms I could have had, an inventory of the medication I am on, and I have been declared cancer-free, until my next appointment in four months.
I will have more to say in the coming days. About how they told me if things remained the same, I would be discharged after one more year, instead of four. About how my dedicated nurse was self-isolating so I was not able to speak to her, but arranged a phone catch-up in a couple of weeks to discuss my ongoing mental health problems.
For now though, I will crawl under the covers, put a good audiobook on and try and get some much needed rest. I may order a celebratory takeaway later, making up for the fact I have had maybe 4 meals in the last 6 days. I will make myself a hot chocolate and put the Christmas lights on.
In the wise words of Adore Delano – Party.