Part seven. A first follow-up after radiation treatment, and the unexpected response of the body.

It has taken me some time to write this blog post. I didn’t think I would react this way. I wasn’t prepared for it. It came as a surprise.

After a summer of feeling so strong, so alive, and so happy, I returned to everyday life and its routines. My first follow-up appointment after radiation treatment was coming up. It had been planned since the spring, three months after my last treatment. I had hardly thought about it during the summer. Almost not at all. As the day approached, I checked in with myself. Why wasn’t I worried? How did I actually feel?

On the morning of the appointment, I began to feel something stirring inside me. And the closer we got to the hospital, the stronger it became. We entered through the same entrance as before, passed the same reception, and took the same elevator. But it wasn’t until we reached the ninth floor and sat down in exactly the place where it had all begun that my body really spoke up.

It remembered this place so well.

And it wasn’t happy to be there. It was worried. My heart was pounding, and something was pulsing through my body. My mind wasn’t saying much, but my body was telling me everything.

This is not where I want to be.

When we entered the doctor’s room and sat down, I got the usual question: How are you doing? We talked for a little while, and then he told me that everything looked fine. There was nothing concerning in the results, and he had no particular reason to expect problems ahead. He examined me and asked me to come back in six months.

I felt light. Relieved. Happy.

As I closed the door behind me and left the ninth floor, I had the biggest smile on my face. I could hardly wipe it off. Ahhh, yes. Well done. Good job, both of us.

After a lovely lunch with my husband, I went back to work. I shared the news with a close colleague, who responded, “Wow, congratulations! That’s wonderful news. Take some time off to enjoy this. You must be exhausted.”

Exhausted? No, I thought. Everything is fine now. This news gives me energy!

But it didn’t take more than a couple of minutes when something shifted.

Suddenly, I felt completely exhausted.

I can hardly describe it as ordinary tiredness. It was more like a heavy blanket lying over me. I carried it when I walked, when I talked, even when I tried to think. Everything felt heavier. I continued working, kept up with daily routines, and went to social events. I managed, but everything felt slow and heavy inside.

I couldn’t understand why.

It took time for me to realise what was happening. I thought I knew myself well, but sometimes it is much harder to see what is happening within ourselves than it is to recognise it in someone else.

Perhaps I had been so focused on getting through each appointment, each examination, and each treatment that I hadn’t fully understood what I was going through. Perhaps I had carried the worry on my shoulders without noticing. Perhaps the relief of receiving good news allowed something else to surface. I don’t know for certain.

What I do know is that it took me two months to feel like myself again. Two months after receiving the best news I could have hoped for.

The doctor was happy with how things looked. I was relieved and grateful. And yet, my body seemed to need more time to catch up with what my mind already knew.

…

This is part seven of my personal story of living with a lymphoma diagnosis, going through treatment, and discovering what the experience has taught me along the way.