Will the fear of recurrence disappear?

Kathy LaTour is a breast cancer survivor, author of The Breast Cancer Companion, and co-founder of CURE magazine. Although cancer has not cost her her life, she has agreed to do so to educate, empower and enlighten newcomers and those who care for them.

For many years after my diagnosis, the autumn and winter months have been difficult to live with. My birthdays related to cancer all fall in October, November and December. I was diagnosed with breast cancer on October 15, 34 years ago. I saw my daughter taking her first steps on November 1st, two weeks after my diagnosis.

Thanksgiving came three weeks later. I've always loved to cook, but frankly, I do not even remember giving thanks, except that the day before, my husband had shaved his head. I had started chemotherapy and I'm sure my family was there, looking at me with pitiful eyes. OK, I was pitiful – bald and with a mouth full of blisters that meant I could not appreciate the food I could smell and the nausea that ensured that I was a nice shade of green .

Christmas, my daughter's second, almost did it. I bought her things she would not play with for years, especially my favorite books as a girl.

The question that arose these days and many others was:

Is this the last time I'm going to do it? Will I be here next year? Was it my last Thanksgiving and Christmas with my daughter?

When February arrived, the black cloud began to rise. The chemotherapy ended, and I bought a wig and I went back to work to teach second – year university students who are hosting two C and two Ms.

It took me years to realize that in those early days, I did not know anything about what it looked like when the cancer came back. I had just enough information to be dangerous. I even remember calling my nurse at a time when I was certain to die and that cancer had returned to my spine. It really hurt, but I chose not to look at what could be other causes, such as lifting a plant too heavy. Instead, I focused on the friend I had talked to that week and whose breast cancer had returned to her spine. Suddenly, my back pain was a recurrence.

I asked my nurse for a bone scintigraphy and she prepared one. When I went to get the results, I was sure to die. My back was worse and I had told my husband that it was just a matter of time. When the nurse arrived with the results, she said, "All is well, why did you want that anyway?

I felt free as my husband said, "Do not ever tell me that again."

Over time and learning more about the realities of metastatic disease, I've been somewhat reassured. I still had these panic attacks that sent me to the oncologist for blood tests and the causes are still the same: if a friend has a recurrence, if a famous person is diagnosed or if I have pain or that I do not suffer far in a few days.

We all have to find our own schedule so we do not worry anymore. I remember specifically my visit on the 10th^e year of survival. I saw my oncologist during an annual visit and I told him, "Guess what he is today." He replied that it could not last five years, so it must be 10 years .

"When can I stop worrying about it coming back and killing me?" I asked him.

"When you die of something else," was his answer.

So, I continue to be wary of strange aches and pains or another symptom of recurrence, but I have to admit that most of the problems I now encounter are due to aging.

Oh, and my daughter, whom I thought I would never see growing up, lives in New York and the 33^rd birthday this month.