For many years, I heard and read people use the term "scanxiety" to talk about the feelings they had as time came closer to either having scans done or their loved ones having scans done, usually to check for signs of recurrent cancer.
At the time, I could only imagine the whirlwind of emotions they must have been feeling after going through their cancer treatments, which are usually brutal, with fears of recurrence being top of mind, whether symptoms have been present or not.
It wasn't until after my mom's colon cancer diagnosis in October 2022 that I began to understand.
I wasn't the cancer patient; Mom was. But about a week and a half later, she was scheduled for CT scans by her surgical oncologist to obtain additional info and to determine if the cancer had spread. Already feeling overwhelmed and terrified over the news of her diagnosis, we were a bundle of nerves, fearful that it had spread to other places.
What they found, thankfully, lent credence to their belief that it had not spread to other organs. The surgery she had to remove the tumor two weeks later resulted in them finding evidence of disease in three of the 15 lymph nodes they also removed.
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Mom did six rounds of FOLFOX5 chemo sessions in early 2023. Though they were tough on her, with the Oxaliplatin part giving her neuropathy issues in her feet and hands, she soldiered through and rang the bell three months after starting the treatments.
Four months after that came her first scans since the original ones in October 2022. Because everything was still so fresh in our minds and she was still recovering from chemo, we were both very anxious about what the results would be, me much more so than her.
Fortunately, the results were encouraging, as were the numbers from her labwork, which showed a low CEA number. The same held true in July 2024.
Though we've both felt immensely blessed with what we've heard so far in the monitoring phase, there is always that fear lurking, the worry that can sometimes consume a person when it comes to their health or that of a loved one or friend.
We know that sometimes people don't get the news they want to hear after they have scans done, and that possibly one day it could be her, though obviously we pray that her reports will always be good.
The scanxiety has been very real for me this time around, more so than perhaps any other time beyond the first time, with mom's next round of CT scans happening in the next week.
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Though mom hasn't openly shown much anxiousness about it, she has talked about them some, with both of us stopping to pray together for no signs of recurrence and good numbers when it comes to labwork. For me, on the other hand, the anxiety has at times gotten to the point that it was almost debilitating, grabbing hold of me and not letting go.
Fortunately, I'm doing better, and I pray that when the day for the scans and labwork comes that I'm strong enough for both of us to help get us through the challenges with our heads held high.
But how will I be if, God forbid, they give us bad news? Will I be strong enough to be mom's eyes and ears in the aftermath, as I was after the diagnosis, and for the conversations that likely would follow in the event of recurrence?
I pray we don't have to find out. I pray that she's okay, that this time next week we can feel relieved and hopeful and thankful. I just pray a lot. Please pray for my mom, too, and anyone else who is going through cancer or who has gone through it (and their loved ones who are caring for them), because the roller coaster of emotions is something else.
