Cancer is a major health concern, which is why beating it is such a boost to your wellbeing. But what happens after you defeat cancer? In 2012, Kathryn McPeake noticed a lump in her chest—again. ‘I had just gotten my hair back and was feeling pretty,’ she recalls, but her doctor confirmed she had relapsed.
Wellness writer Nina Strochlic details, ‘It was a nightmare scenario—a realisation of a nagging fear that occupies the thoughts of most post-treatment survivors for the rest of their lives. Overshadowed by a focus on recovery through the months or years of chemotherapy and medical procedures, the aftermath of being declared cancer-free can be unexpectedly harsh. In the year following treatment, survivors say they’re unprepared for the reality that dawns instead of the expected bounce back into “normal” life. There are the long-lasting side effects, dismissal and isolation from family and friends, financial burden, and constant anxiety that sickness could return. Finishing treatment, they find, is just the beginning of lifestyle adjustments and reevaluated priorities that fall into place in the post-chemo year.’
McPeake explains, ‘It’s almost like you’re holding your breath through treatment and then, after, you breathe and everything else comes to the surface. I was almost bothered when people were like, “Congratulations, you’re done.”’ Traci Brundage, a 29-year-old mother of two who finished treatment for triple-negative breast cancer in February 2013, confirms, ‘Once you hit the “you’re-cancer-free” mark, you’re kind of forgotten about. People say, “Move on…why do you keep bringing it up?” I can’t snap my fingers and be back to who I was.’ Brundage started an online survivor’s support group one month after finishing her last treatment, to battle the isolation and find the help she felt she needed. She points out, ‘It’s a club you don’t wanna join, but the bond is unbreakable.’
McPeake is quick to note that the lack of preparation for these after-affects isn’t the doctors’ fault: ‘They’re just there to cure cancer, and once the cancer’s cured you almost don’t want to tell them about problems you’re having.’ After her second remission, McPeake – who once eschewed support groups – joined two on Facebook. ‘A big thing we talk about is how stupid we are,’ she comments of her fried mental capacity known as “chemo brain.” Brundage suggests that it’s especially hard for younger victims of breast cancer, as the diagnosis is traditionally associated with a later generation. She outlines, ‘I think there’s a lot more support for older women than for us. I think they think we think we’re invincible, but cancer brings us to our knees.’
Daniel Bachove, who got married one month after he finished his last dose of chemotherapy for stage 4 small bowel cancer, asserts, ‘We don’t know how much time we have or what kind of time we have, that’s why every moment is so important.’ Unexpected donations meant Bachove didn’t have to cut corners for his fiancé Mindy, which would otherwise have been a certainty due to the financial strain that the cancer put on their finances. He recalls thinking, ‘I want her to have a real wedding, not something to look back on and say, “Because I had cancer we couldn’t do this and couldn’t do that.”’ Now the wedding is over, Bachove needs to figure out the next chapter of his life. ‘I got used to a life of treatments every other week,’ he says. ‘It’s kind of like being released from jail. You are incarcerated when you have chemo, everything stops.’ Brundage adds, ‘Every day means a little more—you don’t take life for granted, you just take every moment and treasure it.’
