The Scanxiety Olympics

The most dreaded and most welcomed test for someone who has completed their course of chemo happens tomorrow.

The PET scan.

Also known as:
“Please tell me the chemo actually did what it was supposed to do.”

This magical little test should determine whether chemotherapy killed off the cancer.

If YES — I celebrate. Possibly loudly. Probably with inappropriate language.
If NO — I dissolve into a small emotional puddle on the floor and may need to be mopped up with paper towels and grace.

The fun part?
I don’t even get the results right away.

No, no. That would be far too humane – or not.

I get the scan…
and then I wait five long days to get the results – from the Dr. of course. No PET Scan tech deserved the melt down (if it comes).

Which means I will spend the days in between riding the emotional roller coaster from hell.

Let me introduce you to the schedule:

• Morning: I feel hopeful. Strong. Optimistic. A survivor.
• Late morning: Mild dread creeps in.
• Afternoon: I am convinced the cancer is hiding like a tiny evil ninja.
• Evening: I am absolutely certain there is cancer in every single cell of my body and I will not survive the week.
• 2:17 a.m.: I have never had cancer at all and these bitches are just trying to mess with me.

Up.
Down.
Middle.
Then WAY WAY OUT into left field where logic goes to die.

That’s the thing about cancer.

You can get rid of the cancer —
but the mental trauma sticks around for years. Sometimes decades.

Your body may heal, but your brain keeps receipts.

Every scan becomes a psychological event.
Every appointment feels like a pop quiz you didn’t study for.
Every “we’ll know more after the test” sounds suspiciously like a threat.

So if I seem a little off this week —
a little quiet, a little emotional, a little extra —
please know I’m just riding the scanxiety roller coaster.

I’m doing my best to stay positive.
I’m doing my best not to spiral.
And I’m doing my best to remember that right now, in this moment, I am here.

So y’all be patient with me this week.

I’ll be the one strapped into the front seat of the emotional carnival ride,
white-knuckling the bar,
trying not to scream…

…but probably screaming anyway.

🎢💪