If I could define survivorship in one word, it would be complicated. I would go a step further and say it’s really complicated. On my last day of chemotherapy, I was elated. I could not wait to have my port de-accessed for the (hopefully) last time. The only thing I remember from my last day of chemo is that I had Lady M cake, and I just wanted to go home and have this nightmare be over. 

I was 23 when I finished treatment. I thought the days and months after chemo would be simple. I would go back to work, my hair would grow out, and I would never have to think about cancer again. But you know life doesn’t always work that way, which makes me feel like my life is being directed by Shonda Rhimes. I thought I could go back to where I left off. And I tried to do that, but it led me to question myself even more.

I felt isolated from my friends because they continued with their lives (as they should), but I felt stuck. I didn’t know who I was anymore. What I even liked to do, who I wanted to surround myself with, and what to even do with my life. 

I was supposed to be living my best life in my 20s, but I was bald, fatigued, and unable to do normal things like eating ice cream (without having to run to the bathroom). If I picked something up, I was terrified I would drop it because I could barely feel my fingers from neuropathy. I’m now 3 years out from active treatment, my hair has grown back, and I am starting to look like myself again, but I still experience side effects from chemo. I take a bit longer to understand things or remember where I put my phone, but then other times I forget cancer even happened. That is why I say that survivorship is complicated.

I’m thankful to have spent the time in quarantine during Covid figuring out myself. Speaking to my therapist about boundaries and how to tame my people-pleasing habits. I wanted to live for myself and start doing things I like to do. I figured out I like to knit, draw, drink nice cocktails, and watch comedy shows. But I sometimes feel guilty for being able to do these things and be on the other side of cancer while many of my friends are not. I question why the treatment worked for me. I question why I’m here, able to do things I like and figure out who I am again. It makes little sense, and that is why survivorship is complicated. 

When you finish treatment, no one really speaks about survivorship. There is no road map or guide. Everyone is just happy that you’re here. But in survivorship, you must go to follow-up appointments with your oncologist, scans every year, and have to fight your insurance on an incorrect bill. Those things don’t stop when your hair grows back. This is why survivorship is complicated.