"Hi guys! I'm broken." - Janet, The Good Place

“Come on, you know how this works. You fail and then you try something else. And you fail again and again, and you fail a thousand times, and you keep trying because maybe the 1,001st idea might work. Now, I’m gonna and try to find our 1,001st idea.” - Michael, The Good Place (I only quote The Good Place now.)

It could be worse is true, it turns out, and I know this because things keep getting worse. 

I don’t want to be writing this. I’d rather break all my fingers than write this and put it out there and make it even more real. 

The problem with squamous cell carcinoma, or any head and neck cancer, really, is that the chance of recurrence is fairly high. It’s most likely to happen within the first year or two of treatment and about 40% of oral cancer patients will have a recurrence at some point. 

Unfortunately, I’m now part of that 40%. 

A couple of weeks ago, I found a new bump on my tongue. The minute I felt it, my stomach sank. I imagine that all cancer patients are terrified of a recurrence, and assume anything out of the ordinary means that the cancer is back. But instead of immediately freaking out (much), I contacted my doctor and they scheduled an appointment so they could take a look. 

At the appointment, four different medical professionals came in and poked at me and exchanged worried looks with one another and I kind of knew at that moment what the outcome was going to be. But they did a biopsy, just to be sure. Unfortunately, they weren't the results we were hoping for. Obviously. 

I can’t really say much more at this point. I don’t know much more yet. The only thing I know is that it’s not good that it’s back so soon, so quickly after my scan just two months ago. And I hate this. I know that, too. 

Since I’ve found out, I can’t seem to stop moving. I try to watch something dumb on TV (thanks for existing, America’s Next Top Model!) but then realize I could be doing laundry or straightening up the kitchen or (true story) taking everything out of drawers and then VACUUMING said drawers. I try to read a book but then remember I’ve been meaning to go through all of my clothes and purge everything that’s now too big. I try to go for a nice, quiet nature walk, maybe to follow some ravens, and end up running down the trail like Phoebe Buffay, like if I run fast enough, I could leave all my problems behind me. 

I know the reason I’m doing all of this is because everything feels so out of control right now, and I can control whether or not we have clean clothes or things are organized. I push my body to run because I want to prove that it will still do what I tell it, even though it feels like it’s actively working against me. Maybe that’s why I’m running. I’m trying to punish my body for not doing what I want it to. 

I’m feeling so many things right now and I’m having a hard time sorting through all of it. I feel sad (obviously) and angry (even more obviously), and really, really tired. Mostly I’m dreading people starting to say things to me again about being a warrior or that everything happens for a reason or, worst of all, “you got this!” and…

Sometimes I forget this is happening (again) and then, when I remember, my stomach sinks and my entire body goes numb, just for a moment. I feel guilty for making people sad, for making the people I love go through this with me again. I feel like I failed everyone. I did all I could, I did everything the doctors told me, but I still feel like I failed a test. 

I feel a bit hopeless, to be honest with you. This is going to be something I’m dealing with for the rest of my life, and it feels like all of my good days are behind me, even if I logically know there are still things to look forward to. I’m just having a hard time locating those things right now. 

So I’m going to keep moving, I guess. I’ll keep following ravens, Monica Geller-ing our stuff, running like a fool, for as long as I have the energy, and maybe I’ll find some hope again.