Eternally in a hurry, I uttered my standard-issue, “No, I’m sure it’s all fine. It’s just the typical surveillance testing,” excused myself from the call, and walked quickly toward the hospital.

Five hours of testing later, and I would find myself deflated and wondering if that statement had jinxed things, as I dressed and gathered the paperwork to schedule my next, unexpected biopsy.

Sometimes we become so very used to a particular behavior that it becomes second nature. This is true of a wide variety of both adaptive and maladaptive behaviors…eating healthy, working out, drinking enough water, smoking, working too much, gossiping, shutting people out, making excuses for other people. Actions are so powerful that, when repeated over time, they simply become part of who we are. And after 30 years of cancer survivorship, eleven surgeries, more than eleven procedures, sixteen different types of biopsies, and twenty-one MRIs, I am no different in that regard. Long ago I became so accustomed to reassuring other people that I would fine, that it is literally reflexive. My arguably canned response is always “I know it will be OK.”

However, this is a little more complex than merely trying to placate others with a submissive, disingenuous statement. Though I must admit I am more prone to doing so when really busy and lacking the bandwidth to really comfort other people. But there is something more than just mere habit and convenience at play. For starters, I really do believe that God and the universe (and perhaps a pinch of karma) will ensure that things will work out fine, one way or another. While faith, like anything, may wax and wane at times, it is always there anchoring the journey.

Furthermore, as I have written before, I really do believe survivorship is a “good problem to have.” I try to not lose sight of those who are no longer among us, but who would have given anything to have this type of “problem.” I have also had decades of hearing the phrase “it is probably nothing…but because of your history, we should biopsy… just to be sure.” In fact, during the otherwise seemingly endless days awaiting pathology results, it is not unheard of for me to temporarily forget that I am waiting for that call. Additionally, I recognize how fortunate I am to have insurance and access to great care, and appreciate that I have been blessed with doctors who do their due diligence to ensure that I remain cancer-free. Thus while it may not be ideal to have yet another biopsy, the benefit of those needles and sterile surgical steel is that it is what ensures I remain here…for my kids…for my patients…for anyone else whose life I might have the opportunity to touch…and to continue to share my musings on surviving cancer (and so much more). So bring on the betadine and lidocaine. God-willing, it will all be OK.  

*** Photo credit: @auskr (IG)