Facing the fear of a cancer diagnosis again

Today was one of the most triggering days I've had. The weird thing is it came out of nowhere. I started the week in a positive frame of mind. I've built up some momentum over the past couple of months since being discharged from the hospital. Initially, it was rough, but I've risen up, worked on my website, and published some posts that got nice feedback. This has encouraged me to work harder and given me a sense of purpose, which had a positive effect on other aspects of my life.

After about an hour or two of working at the cafe, trying to organize my documents, rename folders, and declutter my digital space, it dawned on me that this was all good, but I was procrastinating on my most important task: my health. I realized I had missed my appointment with my doctor last week and needed to pick up new medication, so I decided to see him. I knew he worked on Monday mornings and that I could see him as a priority. I also realized that my annual CT scan was due soon. At the time, I was a little nervous but thought, “Yeah, cool, I can do that, no problem.” I got a tuk-tuk right away and went to the hospital.

I was seen within about 20 minutes of arriving. Initially, it was nice because I hadn't seen Dr. Utarn in about three weeks. He had been on holiday in Japan for a week or two, and I had missed my appointment last week. We had a nice catch-up about how much things had improved with my emotional health since last seeing him, and how in part that was due to my writing and some of the incredible feedback I had received. He was elated, so happy to see me in a more positive frame of mind, commenting on how crucial that is to my recovery. I told him about the post I had written about being diagnosed with cancer. I even read the post to him because it was complimentary to him and genuinely from the heart. It was rough to be diagnosed. It came out of nowhere. Dr. Utarn was there; he was the one who initially diagnosed me and has been with me every step of the way since. We discussed the events of my blog post. Like me, he remembered the events of that meeting vividly.

Once that conversation finished, we talked about the change in medication I needed. Then I brought up the CT scan. Dr. Uttam immediately checked the records and confirmed that it was about time to do it. This is where things really changed. As soon as he started looking at the records, he sucker-punched me by offering to schedule the CT scan for today, literally this afternoon. I was so freaked out. I wasn’t expecting to do the CT scan today. I thought maybe in a couple of days, but certainly not today. It threw me, and I initially said I needed at least a couple of days to mentally prepare. He then suggested sometime next week. I met him halfway and suggested Thursday, which gave me a couple of days. He agreed, called the nurses, and said this needed to happen, and I would need tests for this.

As soon as he booked the dates and phoned the nurses, talking about blood tests needed in preparation for the CT scan, an avalanche of memories from my cancer treatment hit me. I remembered my first CT scan four years ago and the roller coaster of 48 hours of continuous tests. I started having flashbacks and intense, intrusive memories of desperate times during my cancer treatment. Many messed-up things happened during COVID, and the isolation was mentally and physically hard to endure. I couldn’t compartmentalize everything.

Normally, I have to wait for about half an hour to pick up my medication and wait for my shot, but during that time, my stress levels went through the roof. After all my cancer treatment and operations on my stomach, I feel nauseous a lot of the time. I have problems with my stomach and often feel sick. I'm used to that post-cancer, but this was drastically different from my normal stomach problems. I really had issues and became very restless. Normally, I can chill and look at my phone or read the news, catch up on YouTube, or sometimes take my laptop in and game while waiting for different appointments, but this was really different. I became really restless.

During this half-hour period, my anxiety skyrocketed. I was thinking about how I could literally be diagnosed with cancer on Thursday and possibly start my cancer treatment on Friday. That would be a complete 180 from my life over the past couple of years since finishing my cancer treatment. I know how bad and difficult it can be, and I was genuinely terrified. I think I tweeted, 'I'm fucking terrified.'

The hospital was busy, and it took more than 30 minutes. I was restless and stressed and really didn't feel comfortable just sitting down and chilling. Then I was given the paperwork that I had to fill in—the legal documentation for the CT scan, asking about my previous health conditions and such, which is basically a formality. I filled it in with my mind on a different planet, and that just made things worse. It brought back a lot of different experiences from my previous cancer treatment and diagnosis.

After filling in the paperwork and signing my name, the anxiety kept rising. I asked how long it would take, and the nurses said probably about another 20 minutes. I waited for another 10 minutes and then decided, 'fuck it, I'm gonna go home and come back later,' because I wasn't feeling well. My stomach was actually, I don't know, the stress or whatever it was, I really did not feel well physically, and mentally I was just all over the place, more than normal. So I decided to come home.

I came home in a daze, trying to keep my mind busy with TV and cleaning. I tried to watch TV to get my mind off it, but that didn't last more than 10 minutes. I tried doing some cleaning to keep myself busy, but my room ended up looking like I didn't know what I did. Then I think I spoke to my mum, and as usual, kind of blew up on the phone. She didn't really understand the emotional impact of some of the stuff that happens in my life, which is understandable. We're from different cultures and different generations, and she thinks wildly differently from how I process stuff. So that's understandable. But yeah, regrettably, I got angry on the phone. I was trying to convey that I'm scared, and you're not here, and I don't want to go through this again on my own. I felt sad and frustrated that I'd got angry on the phone to my mum.

After the kind of stupid phone call with my mum where I made her feel like shit and made myself feel like shit, I realized that not only am I just a complete idiot that's not helping myself and hurting those closest to me, but that time was running out and I needed to head back to the hospital to make sure I get everything done. So I jumped in the shower to kind of freshen myself up and mentally purify the trauma, if that makes sense. After the shower, I went to the cafe to have a cappuccino and chill to calm my mind before heading to the hospital again.

I tweeted, "Alright. My cappuccino is finished. Time to face the music & head back to hospital. Got stuff to do #CTscan #Cancer."

I got in the same tuk-tuk that I had taken earlier in the morning and went back to the hospital. This time, I was in a completely different mental state. I knew what I was getting myself into. It wasn't the kind of shock that it was that morning. My stomach issues had calmed down and were back to normal.

I got my medication, got my shot, and double-checked all the paperwork to make sure I ticked the right boxes. While waiting for my medication, I met some foremer neighbors who used to live in my condo and are from the States. They recognized me and turned around because they were sitting in front of me. They were masked up, so I didn't initially recognize them. My instant reaction when they started speaking to me was to apologize for not wearing a mask because today had been such a whirlwind that when I came into the hospital the second time, I wasn't wearing my mask. Normally, I'm really conscious of that.

We had a conversation where I opened up and told them about what had happened today. They had met me during my radiotherapy but didn't know I was having cancer treatment. It wasn't obvious to them. We had only exchanged passing hellos and goodbyes. We spoke for about 20 minutes after I picked up my medication. I sat down with them for a bit, and they were so lovely. I was so grateful for emotionally connecting with them because I was trying to do what I normally do—laugh it off and say that I have my CT scan and I'm a bit scared. I was being honest but trying to put on a brave face.

At one point, my mask dropped when I said I was scared of finding out on Thursday that I have cancer again. My voice trembled, and my eyes started to water. I physically tried to control myself to hold it in, but I really felt scared. It was so nice to have a mum and dad figure who were genuinely understanding. I really connected with them. They were really lovely. They told me they were from Orlando but that they had returned to Chiang Mai and moved into a house. We exchanged numbers.

I am so grateful for that meeting. I think I would have left the hospital in a completely different state if I didn't have that grounding before I left. They understood that I was quite scared. The wife's sister had just recovered from colon cancer, so they were very empathetic to what I had been through. They also knew how amazing Chiang Mai Ram Hospital was. I told them about Dr. Utarn and all the complications and how amazing the treatment I've had here has been. One of the top colorectal surgeons from Australia had come over to the UK, and through a family friend, my dad had shown him the specially prepared medical records from Chiang Mai Ram Hospital. He told my dad that after looking through the records, Dr. Utarn had worked miracles for me to not be living with a permanent colostomy bag. He said I would never have been able to get this treatment on the NHS. They wouldn't have kept on giving me operation after operation. At some point, they would have cut me off. That didn't happen here in Thailand, and I am so, so, so grateful.

They understood how amazing the treatment here was, so it was nice to be able to speak to someone who understood the difference in healthcare between the States or the UK in my case and that of Thailand. That meeting was really nice. On the way home, I felt calmer and decided to stop of and have a beer, to take the edge of the day. I only had the one, after all the major operations during my cancer treatment my body can't really deal with beer well, because of the gas. I savored the taste while trying to take my mind off going through Cancer treatment again. The beer hit the spot. I came back to my condo in a completely different mental space than previously in the day.

Dr. Alan Frances once tweeted about me, saying, "Best way to tame terrifying flashbacks of #PTSD is to face, not avoid, cues that trigger them." In terms of my own treatment, this was through trauma-focused cognitive behavior therapy, where I would write about the trauma in a way that allowed me to reprocess and deal with it. My writing and this blog have been integral to my journey. The sense of community I've found here has been invaluable. The positive feedback I've received has helped me rise out of the dark space I was in a couple of months ago. If it wasn't for this community and the encouragement I've found through my writing, I don't think I would have been able to come home and been able to deal with this so effectively.

Even when I was having my beer, maybe two or three hours ago, I considered, should I write about this? I thought, there's no way I'd be able to do this. Even at that point, I didn't have the confidence that I could even sit down to write about this, to contemplate writing this. However, on reflection I think through the serendipitous events of meeting that lovely American couple while waiting for my meds and the overall feedback that I've had from my writing over the past couple of months, it's got me to the point where actually, even though a few hours ago, when I was having that beer, since coming back, I've effectively gone through my trauma-focused cognitive behavior therapy of writing about this experience.

Probably the most effective way for me personally to deal with this was to process it by writing and sharing this with you. You've actually helped me get to this point to deal with this, so it's only fair that I share it with you. I'm incredibly grateful for you being so supportive as a community, for following me, and for all the heartfelt comments, likes, and encouragements. You, in part, really got me through today.

Endless Respect.

Thank you.