The Best Christmas Gift I May Never Receive

Last night, my husband asked what I wanted for Christmas. To say he's a last minute Charlie would be an understatement. I've been waiting and waiting for an indicator that he's been thinking about something special for me, but I know he hasn't. In the past, he's gone out on Christmas Eve trying to find that special something but has come home discouraged. So this year, I'm going to tell him what I really want and it's something I don't think he could ever give me.

I've thought about it long and hard. The gift that would mean the most to me isn't a tangible gift but it is a life long gift and one I'd treasure forever. What I really want for Christmas is for the post cancer PTSD and anxiety I suffer to completely disappear.

I never thought I'd suffer with either one, but for the past few years, it seems to be getting worse. Loud noises startle me, sudden movements freak me out. I get anxious in public venues and have found myself longing for the safety and security of my home.

I first began to experience anxiety after surgery to remove the breast cancer. I didn't seek medical help but realize now, I should have.

When my sleep became affected, I talked with my primary care physician who prescribed an anti-anxiety medication. He did offer a stern warning -the medication, he said, is a controlled substance. That frightened me, but the doctor assured me, if I took it only at night before bed, I should be okay.

The medicine has definitely helped with sleep but there is a draw back. Since it's a controlled substance, I have to report in to my doc every three months. It's required by law, so I do it.

Oh how I wish I'd find a magic gift under my tree this year! I wish I'd find a stocking filled with perpetual peace and tranquility. Attached to the gift, I'd love to find a note stating I'll never be overcome with fear or worry again, especially relating to a recurrence of cancer.

There's a place in my chest, just above the initial location of the breast cancer. Whenever my clothing brushes against it, or my fingers touch it as I'm bathing, I wince in pain. It's so tender. I don't want to think it might be another growing tumor, but I can't help it.

I've had so many scans over the past few years, surely they couldn't have missed anything important, could they? I'd like to think not, but the fear in me says it's possible.

My husband doesn't know what I'd truly like to receive this year for Christmas and I won't tell him. I know it would break his heart knowing he couldn't fulfill my wish.

So instead of hoping for something I'll never receive, I've decided to do the next best thing. I've decided to settle for today. I think I can manage to get through one day without being overcome with feelings of anxiety over future what ifs.

And I prefer to concentrate on giving rather than receiving anyway. I have all the material possessions I could ever need. But if I could find a way to get what I really want for Christmas, I'd take it in a heartbeat. Who wouldn't want a life free of fear, anxiety, and worry? Those three emotions can steal a person's joy so fast.

I'm glad my husband loves me enough to want to give me a special gift. It means a lot to know he wants to please me, so I'll try to think of a close second and give him the suggestion tonight after dinner. I've always wanted to learn to play guitar, maybe guitar lessons would be a constructive way of managing stress. And if I learn to play well enough, I could use the music to soothe my savage soul. And if not, I guess I could torture a few of the neighborhood cats with my instrumental failures.

Thank goodness Christmas only comes once a year. Trying to think of the perfect gift is hard especially when the gift is for me. Maybe I'll just tell him to surprise me and see what he comes up with. Yes, I think that might be the best option instead of waiting for the gift I want but won't receive.

Sometimes I just want to pull my hair out

Sometimes I just want to pull my hair out, especially when I read a friend's blog post and I just can't wrap my head around it. This morning, I was reading a post from a fellow breast cancer survivor. She said her cancer has returned and is growing in her spine. As soon as I read the words, I burst into tears. I just didn't understand! We'd been diagnosed with the same type of cancer in the same year. How could it be that her cancer had returned and mine had not? And what made it even more difficult to understand and accept was the fact that she'd chosen to go the traditional treatment route. I'd opted not to do that. She'd endured chemotherapy, radiation, and the anti-hormone therapy afterward. I'd refused chemo, had done 28 rounds of radiation, and had only taken the anti-hormone drugs for a couple of months. It just didn't compute and it certainly didn't seem fair. But that's what sucks about cancer. It doesn't follow the rules.

Cancer the gift that keeps on giving - the high cost of cancer

There's a basket of bills sitting in the corner of my bedroom. I try not to look at it as I enter the room but I know it's there. Its contents spill out onto the floor whenever my husband stuffs another bill into the basket. Usually, when the mail comes, he gets it first so he can filter what I see and what I don't see. Since he's the only one working, he takes care of our financial responsibilities and while I'm thankful for that, I'm not ignorant about our mounting bills. Cancer is expensive. Even if you've reached maintenance phase, it's costly. There are always tests to be run, blood to be taken, doctors to see. It never ends. Just knowing this will be a continual process for the rest of my life frustrates me and the alternative, death, will be my only way out. It would be nice to know that cancer could be a once and done kind of thing but that's only wishful thinking. Everyone knows cancer is a long and very involved illness. I had no id

Annual checkup yields good news!

Yesterday I went to the Cancer Treatment Centers of America for my annual check up. For those unfamiliar with the cancer treatment center, it's an integrative facility that provides services for the body, mind, and spirit. My day began in the survivorship department. While there, I met with the doctor and was asked about how I'd been feeling both physically and emotionally. We talked for about half an hour. The doctor and I had a few laughs and it was probably the most pleasant visit I've ever had. Instead of making me feel that she was the doctor and I was the patient, I felt like we were old friends just having a good chat. It was refreshing and I left her office feeling very optimistic. Next was the port lab where I have my blood drawn. It's always a challenge there because I always have to explain about my lymphedema and why it's necessary to have blood drawn from my hand instead of my arm. You'd think, after 4 years of being a patient there, they'

Journey Out of Pink

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