A Pain in the Neck

People often ask me how I’m feeling, following up with, “You look great!” My hair has returned and has grown in just enough to the point where it looks like it could be an intentional short cut. A few weeks ago, a punk rock girl passing by me as I waited for the bus told me that she loved my hair.

My eyebrows and eyelashes are back. My mustache also has returned. My minimal beauty routine is back to involving mostly hair removal.

“Great!” is my usual response to the query about how I’m feeling. Physically, I’m almost back to normal. I still have a few joint aches left from losing muscle quickly during my hospital stay. I have a few surgery scars along my neck and a tiny bump from the chest catheter, but otherwise, I feel no worse for the wear.

Truthfully, though, I’ve been battling some post-cancer depression. It’s been nearly two weeks since my doctor told me that it was “all good news,” despite the remaining spot lighting up on my PET scan. I feel as if I should be out jumping for joy and painting the town red.

But I feel as if I have that lead weight of depression banging around and sinking in the middle of my chest. I wish it would land on the troublesome pancreas spot and blot it out, and then all my issues would be solved. It’s not a crippling depression or that I’m incapable of being happy. The weight is sometimes buoyed by good feelings and events, yet the gnawing feeling keeps coming back. Sometimes, I don’t feel like getting out of bed.

It’s frustrating, because I’ve spent so much time—more than a year and a half—longing for things to return to “normal.” But I don’t know where that place is anymore. It’s as if, by trying to return to some sense of normalcy too quickly, I have the emotional equivalent of the bends.

It’s somewhat comforting that this is normal, and that cancer patients often put some of the scariest feelings away while in treatment, only to have it come back later. It’s odd, because I felt as if I was dealing with my emotions through treatment, but I feel as if some things are finally hitting me now.

I’ve also found it helpful to talk to people. A lot of people have been through depression at least once. Like panic disorder, people just don’t tend to talk about it much. Depression often makes no sense from the outside. It often seems to strike when things seem to be going well. Those who have dealt with depression know that it’s not a simple matter of cheering up.

So even though I know this is normal, it’s still hard not to beat myself up a bit for feeling bad. (Also a normal thing, if not constructive.) I’m (probably) cancer-free! I have an amazing life. What do I have to be sad about? It’s difficult not to apply the Bob Newhart “Stop It” therapy to yourself. (Hyperbole and a Half has an excellent description of what it’s like to beat yourself up about feeling depressed and about slowly emerging from it.)

I’ve also had a little bout of my old companion, anxiety. A few weeks ago, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. I’ve been trying to deal with the old fear of fear, a vicious cycle I’d like to not get caught up in again.

I’ve been trying to stay busy and push away the depression and anxiety. A few weeks ago, we went to brunch with a friend and didn’t return home until the evening. I kept trying to find new things to do so I wouldn’t have to be alone and still long enough for the lingering gloom cloud to descend upon me.

When thinking about returning to normal life, I feel a little overwhelmed. Sometimes small decisions leave me incapacitated. Not that I’ve ever been very capable of making decisions. Every choice I make is full of deliberation. It drives my boyfriend crazy.

Last weekend, four people who have known me for a long time happened to be in town, and that helped me shake off a little bit of my depression. It was good to see and talk to people who knew me long before all of this happened.

What struck me was that after surviving something, there’s this pressure. Whether you think you’ve been spared for some reason or have to live life to the fullest, there’s a new pressure, a self-imposed stress. My own demon has been a feeling that I have to get back to normal, work-wise, which is impossible. Last year, I lost my full-time job while undergoing chemotherapy and, before my hospital stay, I was taking on as much freelance work as possible to prepare for not working. So I feel as if I should always be working now, but that’s not normal.

Taking some time off when friends were in town were therapeutic. I’m also taking a weeklong vacation soon. It’s going to take a while to restore balance to my life.

I have been feeling a little bit better, though the melancholy found its way into my dreams. The other night, I had a dream that I went to a high school reunion, but it happened really fast and I didn’t feel as if I had time to talk to anyone. In the dream, while everyone happily chatted and went on their merry ways, I was overcome with melancholy.

I know dreams don’t always mean something. I had a dream a month ago or so in which I was taking an online quiz where the multiple choice question was based on the Andrew W.K. song and my options were: “What kind of partier are you? A) It’s time to party, B) We will party hard, C) Party hard, party hard, party hard.” But I felt as if this recent dream was trying to tell me something. I’ve had a hard time dealing with the passage of time lately. I think I’m belatedly dealing with the issue of mortality, something I pushed away during treatment.

Eventually, I know I’ll emerge from this. In the meantime, I’m going to keep my chin up and remember that this is normal and it will pass.

Photo note: I realize I said it’s difficult to cheer up, but in case you do need cheering up, here is a photo of my cat wearing tiger shoes.