Surviving Cancer Didn’t End My Fear — It Changed It

I’m writing this because I need to get it out of my head. And maybe, if someone else is feeling the same way, it will help them feel a little less alone.

🧬 When Survival Becomes the New Normal

A little over two years ago, my life split into a clear before and after.

I was diagnosed with a serious illness that required major surgery and aggressive treatment. Most of an internal organ was removed. Recovery was long. The treatment was harder than I expected, and at one point my body simply couldn’t tolerate it anymore.

And yet — I surprised myself.

I handled it like a champion.

I stayed positive. I stayed grateful. I stayed focused on being alive.
Looking back now, I honestly don’t know how I did it.

I was just happy to be here.

🖥 Living Between Scans

After treatment ended, a new routine began.

Regular scans.
Every few months.
Over and over again.

Each one was meant to bring reassurance. Each one confirmed the same beautiful truth:

The cancer hadn’t returned. I was still clear.

On paper, this was the best possible outcome.

In my mind… something else was happening.

Instead of relief, the scans slowly rewired my relationship with my own body.

I started living between appointments.

Not fully relaxed.
Not fully panicked.
Just waiting.

🫁 When Fear Finds a New Target

As my final frequent scan approached — the one that would allow longer gaps between tests — I expected to feel excited.

Instead, my mind chose a new enemy.

I became almost convinced I had another serious illness.

Not because a doctor told me.
Not because tests showed anything wrong.

But because I noticed sensations in my body.

I had once read about warning signs. Just once.
And now, two of them lived rent-free in my thoughts.

Every day.

Every hour.

😵‍💫 The Spiral of Sensation and Stress

The more I thought about it, the more exhausted I became.

And the more exhausted I became, the more convinced I was that something was wrong.

It felt like a closed loop I couldn’t escape:

• stress created fatigue
• fatigue created fear
• fear created more stress

I became hyper-aware of every sensation — every breath, every ache, every unfamiliar feeling.

I wasn’t listening to my body anymore.
I was interrogating it.

🩺 When Good News Still Felt Like Too Much

Recently, I visited my doctor for something unrelated.

Unexpectedly, she shared results from a blood test.

The results were excellent. Completely normal.

And I snapped.

Not because the news was bad — but because I didn’t want to know yet.

I’m someone who copes by avoiding results until the “right moment.”
I needed control over when information entered my mind.

Instead of relief, I felt anger. Panic. Overwhelm.

That was the moment I realised something wasn’t right.

🧠 Realising the Problem Wasn’t My Body

Watching a video about health anxiety helped me see something I had been avoiding:

The danger wasn’t in my body.

It was in how my mind was protecting me — too aggressively.

I had survived something traumatic.
My brain had learned one lesson very well:

“Never let this happen again.”

So it stayed alert. Constantly scanning. Constantly preparing for the worst.

Meditation helped me calm down.
But the anxiety never fully left.

And I wouldn’t wish this feeling on anyone.

💭 When Fear Becomes Worse Than the Illness

This is the hardest thing to admit:

Having cancer was awful.

But catastrophising about cancer — long after being declared clear — felt worse.

The fear stole moments that should have been peaceful.
It turned gratitude into vigilance.
It made happiness feel fragile.

To anyone else living like this, I see you.

And I’m so sorry.

🌱 Holding Onto Hope — Carefully

I have another scan coming up soon.

If it’s clear, life will finally slow down a little.
Fewer tests. Longer gaps. More breathing room.

I hope that when that moment comes, I can gently put this fear to rest.

Not by forcing it away.
But by reminding myself that I’ve already survived something unimaginable.

I want to live again the way I used to:

• with happiness
• with self-love
• with trust in my body
• with space for joy

And if writing this helps even one person feel less alone — then sharing my messy, anxious head was worth it.