Written on Wednesday 8 October, Airport Departure Lounge, Minglardon International Airport, Yangon. Travelling to Suvarnibhumi Airport, Bangkok. Silently willing the upcoming monitoring oncology tests to be reassuring.
“It’ll be fine. Trust me. I know.”
Words of intended reassurance, which make me crumple. I’m sorry but actually you don’t know. I don’t know either. Yes, I know that seems odd, how can I not know what is going on inside my own body. Yet the truth is, I don’t know. Nor do the doctors until they carry out their routine, or not routine, tests. Only then will we know if it is fine or not.
The reality is that not only do we not know if it is “fine” or not (do I get a prize for the highest number of negatives in a sentence?), but we do not have control over whether it is fine or not by our attitude. I can neither keep cancer at bay by a jolly positive attitude, nor entice it by fear and anxiety. My attitude plays a part in how I live through cancer, not how the experience will play out.
The other reality is that no matter how we try to keep our conscious thoughts in rein, the subconscious can play very clever games.
This morning, I was sitting on my travel bag, trying to persuade the edges of the zip to meet before snapping the padlock shut, picking up my passport and ticket, and checking that I have my bank cards for the umpteenth time since breakfast. I had a last quick peek at the world before I disappeared offline for a few hours and was stopped in my tracks by a Facebook status update from Liz of Paw Paw Salad, one of my online BC blogging friends. She is also facing her checks (next week) and has been making Very Deliberate Efforts to Not Think About Checks. However, her subconscious had kicked in and she described a dream which could have been one of my own. She had been at the hospital in her dream ………..
The next review by my breast cancer team is coming up very soon, and I am determinedly Not Thinking About It – but my subconscious hasn’t got the memo. Had a dream last night where I was at a huge, mysterious hospital at which my (lovely, distinguished) oncologist was only going to be available to see patients for one day. I knew he was worried about me – I just didn’t know why. I then proceeded to: (a) meet with friends off the premises while waiting for my appointment, letting time stretch on until I realised it was getting dark and I was hopelessly late; (b) have a gazillion action movie adventures trying to run back to the hospital with various walls, ladders, and other impediments in my path; (c) bump into said oncologist in the corridor where he was speaking with some eminent colleagues and make a Wiggle joke about the skivvie he was wearing, thus imperilling his willingness to speak with me (!!!), and (d) realise I’d left my handbag and sandals (!) in a distant ward of the labyrinthine hospital and that I simply had to find them before my appointment. I woke without ever seeing the Prof, and feeling more wrung out than when I went to bed. Good grief.
I know these anxiety dreams so well. There is a pattern to mine and they are particularly creative around the time of upcoming checks and also before (particularly long haul) flights. Travelling to Bangkok for checks combines two anxieties for exponential bonus effect. Not difficult to interpret! Mine are not set so often in hospitals, but in airports, and also in places where I am trying to pack and depart for the airport. But all of them are labyrinthine! My checks always begin with a flight. I am writing this in the departure lounge right now. Attempting to take control, and manage those thoughts. A vain hope, but worth an attempt.
In another situation or context these dreams would be amusing and they are most definitely creative. I dream that I am packing but the case is filled with all of the wrong things – other peoples’ clothes, papers, even food shopping from the supermarket! And I am unable to find my own belongings. Or passport. Or I don’t know the time of the flight and I can’t find my ticket to check, so I do not know what time to leave for the airport. Or I just can’t quite work it out. I start from the time of the flight and subtract the necessary time to check in in advance, then take away the travel time plus a margin for traffic and delays. And I have forgotten what time the flight was and have to start over. And over. And over…. Once I even dreamed that I had to accompany a close friend to the dentist on the way to the airport. I became extremely agitated while she was having treatment because I should have checked in ages before and the departure time was approaching! Oh and then the airport. So many corridors, stairways and procedures to get through before check-in. I have had to climb escalators which had no solid ground at the top. I have had to sit at a coffee bar drinking coffee I don’t like, sipping slowly as it is far too hot, while the check in desk is closing within my sight. In that dream, I was not allowed to proceed to check in until my coffee had been consumed and paid for. I have had to walk miles along carpeted corridors to get to another terminal building which is not signposted and impossible to find. And the other night I dreamed I was on a Qatar Airways flight (how specific is that?) and takeoff was aborted. For some reason, I had to get out of the plane on the runway and walk back to the departure lounge. No one else did, just me. Have you ever realised how long a runway is? This one was like a dual carriage way and miles away from the airport building. Each time I wake up exhausted, stressed-yet-relieved and there is a tiny part of me which is quite impressed at the nonsense I can manufacture!
I have eventually realised that in fact, the airport in my dreams is exactly that – one entirely of my own fabrication, yet intriguingly it is familiar and consistent from dream to dream. I originally believed it was Heathrow or Bangkok but it bears no relation to the reality. It is purely my own creation. My very own virtual airport. And if I never visit it again, I will be extremely happy!
So no matter how much I try and restrain my fears and anxiety in the light of day, the brain keeps on processing and whirring and spits out the most incredibly detailed interpretations of these fears when the darkness falls.
My fears have been cranked up an unkind and steep notch in the past few days. Capt Paranoia, or cancer, has played a particularly nasty trick. On Sunday morning, I attended a very interesting session in Yangon for General Practitioners to enhance their awareness and understanding of cancers. There were a number of presentations highlighting the most common cancers and their key signs and symptoms. Breast cancer came first (this is how I have connected with the Foundation which is working in this area – more about them in another post), followed by ovarian, colorectal, lung, oral….. As a lay person, there is always the twinge of worry when you see lists of symptoms but I was shocked into a cold sweat when I saw the list of symptoms for cancer in the liver. I mentally ticked off symptoms I had not realised were connected to the liver. Last week, feeling uncomfortably full after a meal. That funny little twinge I had been feeling off and on under my right shoulder blade. Symptoms which are incredibly specific. My mind did its own “sift and search” function and spat out the suddenly remembered detail that I have nodes on my liver, noted during previous CT scans which have remained unchanged but monitored. Have these nodes developed sinister cells? Cancer in the liver. That is a whole new ball game. One I don’t want to play. I am in that limbo space now waiting for the checks. Can these symptoms be caused by other things? Or am I entering a very new and feared territory? One thing which I am thankful for, is that I already have these checks booked. There is already an upper body ultrasound booked as well as other checks. I am prepared for CT and bone scans as it has been two years since the last ones. Oh how I hate CT scans, but they do tell a full story. I don’t have a horrendous wait, not do I have to think through a “do-I-go-or-do-I-wait-and-see” decision. Wait and worry while this could be nasty. Or speak with my GP and find I am overreacting. (not that my wonderful doctor ever tells me that – he either quietly reassures me, or asks me if I have my passport in my pocket!) This could not have been timed better in fact. Routine checks that will reveal whether this is cancer reappearing or whether it is all in my mind.
When I arrived at the airport this morning, I pushed my travel bag, laptop back and handbag onto the security screening machine, and walked through the twinkling, screening frame towards the frisking security station. As I went to step onto the raised block I slipped. I didn’t go down, but just slithered momentarily. Glancing down, I realised that I have been so preoccupied that I left home in my indoor shoes, affectionately nicknamed my tsunami sandals (another long story, but I associate them with protection). Those sandals never leave home now, they are too precious and besides they are hardly appropriate formal footwear. Happily they are not quite “slippers” but still I delved into my bag and pulled out another pair for the flight. But my mind has already made its own interpretation. My slippers have come with me to look after me and remind me of other dangerous situations I have been in.
The thing about cancer is that while it is very much a physical disease, it pervades the mind in the most sinister of manners. It causes such torment and torture and brings those expressive dreams.
So please, don’t tell me it will be fine. Only the tests and the Doctors can do that.