Something happens when you hear the doctor diagnose the dreaded "C" word. No longer are you able to go back to believing it won't happen to you. After you survive all the surgery, radiation and chemotherapy it is time to recouperate and find a new normal. You adjust to growing hair again, scars fading and missing parts. Right about then you are due back at the doctors office for tests and scans, and suddenly you realize you could be told it is back.

The anxiety a cancer survivor endures manifests itself in many ways. Loss of appatite, loss of sleep, a shorter fuse. My personal battle for survivorship sanity was and sometimes still is, the inability to make plans beyond my next check up appointment. My current schedule is scans and bloodwork every three months - anything further out on the calender can be distressing. My stuggle with the fear of recurrance is shared by most of my survivor friends as well. Left unchecked the fear only gets stronger.

  It starts with a realization that the check up is quickly approaching. Trying to calm the fear with a quick, "You'll be fine" works a time or two. But then fear crosses my mind again, and again. Now it is getting stronger as I think about all my aches and pains. Eventually it consumes me and becomes the only consistent thought racing through my brain. What to do when worry has a tight grip?

    During the first year after surviving the cancer I tried many methods to ease the madness. I was keeping a journal, blogging in the wee hours of the night, sought therapy, even medication. Still I felt powerless until I faced the beast head on.

  Worry exacts a heavy toll. It is challenging to wake up cheery when you spend half the night tossing and turning and the other half staring at the ceiling. The constant distraction makes it hard to focus and thoughts get scattered. Nerves get raw and tensions build incidiously. Before you know it, you are a powder keg of fear and anger ready to explode at the first unsuspecting loved one to cross your path. Soon it will be their problem too.

   Facing the fear of recurrance was not easy for me. The advanced cancer diagnosis had ravaged my body, my career, my finances and my dreams. My badly shaken faith was bruised but still breathing when I decided I had had enough. No longer would I tolerate the intimidation as fear and I faced off one night in the kitchen. As I set the timer for five minutes, I declared war on the worry which had me cornered.

   Rather than flee the very thought that the cancer might be back, I chose to let the worst case scenario play out for just five minutes.. Like a freight train headed for hell the fears climbed on board. "What if the cancer is back? What if it has spread and nothing can be done? What if I lose this fight and never see grandbabies?" Everything I was afraid could happen ran through my head without restraint. Through my tears I could see the timer still had two minutes to go.

   Audibly I fought back. "So what". I admitted each and every one of the fears could be true. Without cowering anymore I accepted the fragility of life and how powerless I was to change it. As I recognised my vulnerability for what it was, the beast was diminishing. The tears I had previously believed to be a show of weakness had now become a cleansing rain washing away the fingerprints fear put on me. For the first time in a long time, I felt free. And the timer went off.

   That night I found peace with the cancer that had tormented my recovery. I wish I could tell you it was the only war I had to declare, but that would be less than truthful. The battle occurs less frequently, yes. And yes, I always am the victor. Regarldless of whatever the scans may show.