A Roaring River

As cancer survivors, we all have a worry that lingers in the back of our minds waiting for bad news. Most of the time we're told things are good, keep moving forward. We feel a sigh of relief and move on until the next test or scan or weird symptom. Then we have those moments, the ones where results indicate something's wrong. I had that moment recently.
I honestly forgot about the GYN. My appointment was standard, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. However, I had a transvaginal ultrasound to check my endometrium lining since Tamoxifen is known to cause cancer after long term use. Afterwards I was told I needed to see the doctor.
Now all cancer patients know this feeling, it's the - wait, no, that's not normal - the sinking feeling you know something's wrong. You're put in that room... the room you never really go into. The one away from the others... stuffed with information sheets.
Immediately the doctor had the head shaking, dang-it, let's rip the band-aid off, "well, it isn't good news" talk. She talked about how my endometrium lining had grown significantly, it should be less than 4 to 5 mm... mine was over 18 mm. There was other talk, but I only heard... potential endometrial cancer.
I left the appointment feeling frustrated, angry, confused, bewildered, worried, heartbroken, and afraid. However, I still held on to hope and the knowledge that the worst-case scenario of cancer was something I'd just have to deal with if I had to deal with it. I could only take it one step at a time, and there was no room to worry until I was told to worry.
Like most cancer survivors will say, we always live with hearing-cancer-again-worry forever after we're first diagnosed. For some, it is like a constant blaring red warning sign that rages and roars in front of them, always present. For some, it is a lingering trickle of noise that can occasionally become a roaring river when reminded of. I live with the lingering trickle, who that day had a roaring river.

Amy Brock
Huntsville, AL