Cancer Recurrence, Getting Past the Anxiety

Sue McCarthy received diagnoses of breast cancer in 2001 and lung cancer in 2018. Catch up on all of Sue's blogs here!

Can I ever get past cancer recurrence anxiety?

Less than two weeks from today, I will have my annual lung cancer “Check-Up”. This June is the seventh anniversary of my diagnosis with stage 3b non-small-cell lung cancer. Lung cancer was my second experience with the disease; in 2001, I was diagnosed with early-stage breast cancer, duct carcinoma in situ, which was cured with surgery that year.

I was deemed a lung cancer survivor in 2023, but there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that I would want Dr. L to follow me beyond the five-mark. I knew how very fortunate I was to be officially cancer-free that June, and I continue to count my blessings that God’s grace has kept me safe from recurrence these past two years.

However, my trips to the Radiology Department of my local hospital and the subsequent consultation with my oncologist in his office have not been easy. As of last year, I have continued to suffer from significant anxiety.

I have struggled with anticipation before and during each visit to the hospital’s Imaging area. Beginning approximately five days before test day, periodic anxious thoughts have danced around in my mind, and in the last couple of days, it’s been hard to focus on my daily activities. Those last two nights, it’s been virtually impossible to get a good night’s sleep.

But this year, I hope it will be different.

My life has changed a lot in the past month. I am facing the fact that in the near future I could lose two very important people in my life to cancer: Lenny and Dawn. Lenny reached remission from pancreatic cancer for the second time about six weeks ago. It was good news, but wasn’t as special as it might have been.

He had also reached remission in April 2024, and at that time remained cancer-free for only two months. Lenny has been back in treatment since late summer of last year, receiving challenging chemotherapy, followed by radiation therapy, which is targeted at the particularly troublesome area of his pancreas. His original treatment plan included a successful resection surgery, recreating his formerly damaged pancreas from some of his stomach tissue. Now he is receiving yet another chemo, this one more and more difficult for him to tolerate. He tells me it’s also been taking longer between treatments to get his strength back.

Lenny is my first cousin whom I have gotten closer and closer to as a result of our mutual cancer diagnoses. He is a strong guy, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I’ve been so proud to be an important source of support in his life. Sometimes I feel that Lenny is more of a mentor to me than I am to him. Yet now I feel concerned about his circumstances.

And then there’s Dawn. She’s a close friend of mine, and like Lenny, is also a mentor to me as much as I am to her. Dawn was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer in the spring of 2021. I met her as a result of recruiting for the cancer support group at my church. Her name was on a list of individuals who might be interested in our group. She was. Dawn is a very strong woman, takes excellent care of her body, and has a quality relationship with her oncologist. She has received various chemotherapies, via infusion, and in pill form. I often visit with Dawn at the cancer treatment center, largely because I am comfortable in that environment, more so than her other friends. Dawn has the utmost of confidence that God has a plan for her, that involves much more than a challenging cancer journey. Her faith is formidable, her worries seemingly nonexistent.

Then, a week ago, primarily because her immune system was hugely compromised by the toll all the chemotherapy has taken on her white and red blood cells, and her platelets, Dawn was hospitalized for five days. She received a CT scan during her stay. Her cancer had grown and spread, and her doctor let her know she is not up to any more chemo. She thought she would receive radiation soon, then two days later the radiation oncologist told her that radiation treatment was no longer an option either. Dawn will have liver surgery within the next few weeks; that may be her last cancer treatment.

Next week is my third return visit to my oncologist since I reached cure status. And this June it’s hard to imagine I will suffer much anxiety leading up to my CT scan. My attention will probably be focused on Dawn and Lenny, both loved ones, both fighting for their lives. Any worries I start to sense as I anticipate entering the Radiation Department at St. M’s hospital will be more beneficial as prayers, love, and sincere wishes for the best for each of them.

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