They Seem to Know Something...

...that I don't -- or at least something that I won't admit to myself.

I'm talking about my three cancer-related doctors: my chemo doc, my radiation doc and my E/N/T doc. Three wonderful docs that have been a huge help to me over the last year. And I wouldn't trade any of them. But in the last month or so, each of them have told me:

-- I look great,

-- they can't find any sign of cancer re-occurrence, and

-- they were planning on scheduling some kind of scan (CAT or PET or MRI or whatever), but I'm doing so splendidly that we can postpone the scan.

Just today, my radiation doc told me that he had been considering scheduling a PET scan for April or so. But given my 100% clean scan record over the last 8 months, he's now talking about August.

I suppose I should be thrilled. And goodness knows it beats the alternative scenario -- that the scans and physical exams are not clean and more treatments are necessary!!

Now, these three guys are seasoned pros at their business and my faith in them is very high. And they're looking at my condition from three slightly different vantage points. Sort of triangulating in on my well being. If they feel everything is okay, I guess I should feel very good about this. And I do.

Mainly. Mostly. Logically, of course I do.

But I want absolute assurance that I'm fine. I told my radiation doc this morning (after he informed Deb and me that there were no indications of re-occurrence in the area where the primary tumor had been) that if I could get an MRI once a week, first thing Monday morning, that I would do it happily.

And this after he verbally revisited and summarized the decision we had to make last year: to have more surgery (which would necessitate the postponement of radiation and chemotherapy by at least a month) or begin the radiation and chemo as quickly as possible (with the notion that these would eliminate any residual tumor). And his observation that our choice was validated by the all the clean scans and physical exams that I've had since then.

In other words: things worked. What we wanted to happen has happened. Nothing could be better than this.

And what's occurred to me after our doctor visit is that, if I got those weekly scans, it still wouldn't be enough. That there is no amount of external testing that will make this anxiety go away: I never felt sick from the cancer itself, and I don't feel sick now. So I need to take my state of wellness as an act of faith:

If I had a broken arm, I could test it after the cast came off to confirm that it worked okay. If I had the flu, I could take my temperature and ask myself how I felt and confirm that I was okay again. If all my hair fell out, I could look in a mirror to confirm I wasn't bald any more.

But I don't know how to validate this cancer-free-ness. And I feel as if my doctors -- my support team for the last year -- are putting me on a longer and longer leash. But I never asked for a longer and longer leash!

My radiation doc, sensing (I think) my anxiety, said, "And, of course, if you have any questions or concerns any time in the next three months [i.e., until our next scheduled appointment] you can always call me." Now, that's a good doc.

Maybe I should just ask each of them to call me first thing each morning to tell me that I'm doing great... naw, that won't work either.

I guess I'm just going to have to call myself first thing each morning to tell me that I'm doing great.

And maybe I'll start to believe it. Not up here in my head (which doesn't need convincing), but down here in my gut.

Where the anxiety lives...