My scan from last month came back stable, and now, I’ve decided to discontinue my regular MRI scans indefinitely. For the first time since my surgery, I didn’t foresee trouble while I waited for my results. I allowed myself to sit within, instead of fearing the unknown.
It didn’t seem possible, but I think that I might actually be letting go of some of the fears I’ve held about recurrence over the past two years. I’ve realized in recent weeks that I might be subconsciously living in perpetual fear that I might escape it, that I might break away and suddenly elude my condition. When you are so used to living in one mindset, it’s easy forget what it’s like to live in another. And while I like schedules, concrete plans, and always being in the loop about what’s going on, these scans are one component of my life that I no longer want to know about. I’ll know when I need to have another scan either by identifying a new symptom, or by feeling in my heart that it’s time. With this matter, it’s ok not to plan.
To put it bluntly, I’m over it. I’m done with the alarms going off in my head that there’s bad news because Dr. B is taking longer than usual to get back to me. I’m done with my heart beating fast enough to outrun Usain Bolt when I see an email from Dr. B sitting in my inbox. I’m done with the stress that comes with scheduling MRI appointments just to hear that everything is still the same (which I recognize is a good thing, of course). I’m done with waking up the week before a scan, and wondering if next week is going to be the week I’m told that I’m dying.
But to be honest, I’m afraid to abandon the super-sick normal I’ve been living in over the past six or so years of my life. I’m afraid that I’ll get a taste of a brilliant, new normal, just to go back to being sick..because that’s what happened last time. It was in the spring of my junior year of high school when something like this last happened. One day, I just woke up feeling free. I had accepted that I had been living with a brain tumor for years, and reached a point where I became comfortable believing that it would probably just stay that way. I let my worries go, and it felt incredible. I spent the next two months feeling what I can only describe now looking back on it as open. I was open to myself as a complete person. I got to know myself and other people without worrying that one day my health would come swooping in to steal the show again. But then, it did. I am afraid that the new life I’m about to adjust to might only be temporary. This also might be the beginning of the rest of my life in the best, and healthiest way possible.
“But, don’t you need those scans to make sure you’re still healthy?”
Healthy isn’t panicking over the possibility of bad news every 4 months. I’m not really living while I still have those scans to think about. I’m not saying that I’m done with them forever, but, I’m done with them for now. Maybe my next scan will be in a year. Maybe it will be in two. Or, maybe it will be in another four months.
Having a brain tumor is part of my identity, there’s no doubt about that. I am still a college student, though, and I want to be able to wake up, feel, and live that way too. Living is not thinking that I’m going to die every four months. Living is somehow taking time to forget that you were ever sick in the first place. Living is not being afraid of dying. And while I’m not afraid of dying, I’m afraid that I haven’t really been living for a while now.
This isn’t “giving up.” This isn’t giving in to pressure from anyone or anywhere. This is opting-out, for now.