The sudden terror that came to me, who had forgotten about cancer

I woke up with a vague pain in my stomach.
Looking at the clock, it was still early morning.
I went to the bathroom and then back to bed.

"What could it be?"

I thought that, but I didn't think too deeply about it.

I lost half of my rectum due to rectal cancer surgery.
Even now, two years after the surgery, I still have bowel dysfunction, and my intestinal condition has its ups and downs.
There are days when I feel good, and days when I don't.

So that morning, too,

"Maybe today is just a day when I'm not feeling well."

That's about all I thought.

However, as time passed, the discomfort gradually grew stronger.

The number of trips to the bathroom increased.

Straining.

It hurts.

Going to the bathroom again.

Repeating that cycle.

I couldn't even tell if it was pain from defecation or if it was happening because my stomach hurt.
It was just a little different from usual.
I only had that feeling.
And, my body felt somewhat heavy.

I headed to the supermarket immediately.
It was just me and my daughter this week.

It would be a problem if I got sick.

From experience, when I feel like I might catch a cold, it's reassuring to buy a few days' worth of food.

So, I was in a bit of a hurry.
While shopping, I suddenly shivered.

I'm cold.

Even though it shouldn't have been cold inside the store, it felt like a shiver coming from deep within my body.

Still, I finished my shopping and went home.

By the time I got home, the chills had become even stronger.
I tried taking my temperature.

38 degrees Celsius.

I reflexively checked the thermometer again.
I didn't feel like I had that much of a fever.
No runny nose.
No cough.
Almost no lethargy.

My stomach just hurt.

That was all.

That's why it was even scarier.
I didn't know the cause of the fever.

Stomach pain and a fever.

That combination suddenly made me anxious.

Then, a forgotten memory came back to me.

Three years ago.

It was before my cancer was discovered.
An indescribable pain that felt like a throbbing deep inside my body.

Days spent taking Loxonin without knowing the cause.
The anxiety of not knowing even after going to the hospital.
I felt like it was somewhat similar to the feeling back then.

Could it be?

That thought crossed my mind.

Could it be that something is starting again?
Could it be that the cancer has worsened?

Lately, I really hadn't been thinking about cancer.
I was living my days normally.
I had new goals.
Studying was fun, too.
I was spending more time thinking about the future.
It wasn't a life where I thought about cancer from morning till night like before.

That's exactly why my heart couldn't keep up with the terror that suddenly appeared.

I desperately looked for other reasons.

It must just hurt because I went to the bathroom too much.
The fever might be the start of a cold.
Come to think of it, my eating habits were messy last week.
I drank alcohol, too.
I had been having days of sleep deprivation.
Fatigue had also accumulated.

So it must be because of that.

It's okay.

The fever will surely go down by tomorrow.
Telling myself that, I went to sleep early that day.


The next morning.

The fever hadn't gone down.
38 degrees.
And the pain had become even stronger.
I thought, this is really bad.
I rushed to the hospital.

My feelings were wavering even while driving.

It must be enteritis.

It's just fatigue showing.

The part of me that thinks that, and...

Maybe it has finally come.

The part of me that thinks that.

Hope and anxiety came crashing down alternately.

I just wanted to get to the hospital quickly.

I was thinking only of that.

At the hospital, tests continued.
Blood test.
CT scan.
Because my fever was high, they even did a COVID test.

I told the nurse,

"I'm sure this fever is coming from my stomach,"

but she replied with a smile,

"It's the rules, you know."

Thinking about it now, it's natural, but at the time, I wanted to know the results as soon as possible.

The tests were long.

The waiting time was also long.
While waiting, my heart was wearing down more and more.
It was strange.

I thought I was okay now.
I thought I was prepared to live with cancer.
I had experienced recurrence.
I had heard about life expectancy.
So, I thought I could accept whatever happened.
But reality was different.

What's scary is scary.

What's anxious is anxious.

Humans are weak.

I still have a long way to go.

Thinking things like that, I waited to be called into the examination room.

Eventually, my name was called.


I entered the examination room.

My throat was parched.
The doctor started talking slowly while looking at the CT images.
And said,

"You're okay."

At that moment, the strength left my whole body.

"The cancer in your pelvis hasn't changed."

When I heard those words, I took a deep breath for the first time.

It seemed like I had been holding my breath the whole time without even realizing it.

The inflammatory response is high.

It seems like inflammation is occurring somewhere.
However, there are no major abnormalities in the range visible on the CT.
I decided to take antibiotics and monitor the situation.
When I left the examination room, my strength left me all at once.

I sat down on a nearby chair.

For a while, I couldn't think of anything.

I was just relieved.

The cancer hadn't grown.

That alone was enough.

On the way home, I suddenly thought.


Come to think of it, lately,

I hadn't been thinking about cancer, I thought.
The old me was different.

Wake up, cancer.
If some part of my body hurts, cancer.
Think about the future, cancer.
Cancer occupied most of my life.
That's why this time,

when the terror from back then returned, it was truly scary.
But at the same time, I realized something.

I was able to come back properly.

From the terror.

From the anxiety.

Back to my daily life.

Cancer is still inside me now.

Even so, it is no longer everything in my life.

That day,

the cancer that was 100% of my life,
has now become just a small part.
And today, I am,

thinking about my daughter,
thinking about what I want to learn,
thinking about tomorrow's plans.
Such ordinary days,

felt somehow a little precious.