The sequel

Someone told me that the hardest time comes after you’ve been cleared from cancer. It's as if I’d convinced myself that I’ve been able to manage it all.. I had prepared my mind that any day could be my last, any seizure could end up in a collapse that I wouldn't return from. Any interaction could be the last, always concious of my possibly final words before parting. Never go to bed arguing. Not with anyone.Being in a losing game and end up winning. Talk about conflicting emotions.. so yes, it is difficult.... could they really be certain? Nobody else seem to doubt it's real, The doctors would never lie, they look at results objectively and they only tell you what they can see.. and they see nothing. No need for more treatmets. They will send refferals for new scans. They will call me back every three months up to a year, then it'll be every 6 months up to 5 years. Passing that 5-year mark and you're free. Cancer free.Councelling and my nearest repeatedly reminding me of what the professionals said finally sunk in. Yes. I was so unfortunate getting that tumour but I had the overpowering luck getting rid of it. This was the end. After two years being sick, needing several brainsurgeries, radio and chemo it was all over. I will now be someone that have a story to tell, a story that will inspire. I can say that this happened but the light was always there at the end of the tunnel. Everybody loves a happy ending... but could I really be telling a story that I didn’t believe in? Well yes, I’m a fighter... but a winner?  This also caused guilt. All this guilt.How can I not feel happy? All the people who has carried me, all the medical efforts that has saved my life. How dare I not being happy. Well, fake it til you make it.. I started getting practical. My employers had been so supportive all the way through this journey, helped me and kept in contact. Again, so lucky. I started discussions of the possibilities of getting transferred to the Stockholm office, maybe start a new role, build it all up again.I started looking if I should move or commute to work. I looked up if I could get daycare for my dogs. I was worryng if I would be able for the busy Stockholm and all the noise. Everytime I'd gone to visit my sisters or the office, all the impressions had been so overwhelming. My head buzz in noisy surroundings. Will I get used to that? Will I ever get my full energy back?  I had to allow myelf to fantasise about my brand new future. I prepared questions for my next consultancy at the hospital. I had a list. Am I ready to return to work?Do I need any rehabilitation?Can I go straight back to full time or is there a need to ease in slowly?What difficulties could I expect and what should I avoid?Is there any physical sensations I should pay attention to and how do former cancer patients normally react to stress? I went back to my next consultation with anticipation. I was dressed in a shirt, all ready for business.Hand shake. That chronic lump in my tummy felt more intense. Why do doctors always seem so serious... there's no need for that anymore. "We've found some activity again. There has been some growth" No. No. No. Could'nt hear because of the sudden ringing in my ears. But I could see, I could see my sisters looking  down and I could see my fathers face buried in his hands and my mother staring at the doctor. No, I don't think that the worst time is when they say it's gone. The worst time is when they say it's back. "We'll try a new type of chemo " Take my mindAnd take my painLike an empty bottle takes the rainAnd heal, heal, heal, healAnd take my pastAnd take my senseLike an empty sail takes the windAnd heal, heal, heal, healAnd tell me somethings lastAnd tell me somethings last (Tom Odell - Heal)