Rest and Recuperation After a Cancer Diagnosis and Treatment

Sue McCarthy received diagnoses of breast cancer in 2001 and lung cancer in 2018. Catch up on all of Sue's blogs here!

It’s very necessary to spend time resting and recuperating after a cancer diagnosis and treatment.

Many of us who survive lung and other life-threatening cancers are thrilled to be told we have reached remission, or even declare ourselves as survivors. Many feel great and are eager to jump right back into work, and a variety of other responsibilities they managed before being diagnosed. Some of those individuals successfully resume all their prior responsibilities without significant issues.

Despite longing for what I thought of as normalcy through 1 1/2 years of treatment, and finally reaching remission, my body and mind still needed rest and recuperation. Yet, I wanted to move on and resume my enthusiastic, active life. As a result of not getting ample recovery time, I struggled through most of the year in 2020, suffering from physical, mental and emotional health problems. What a shame that I hadn’t read something similar to what fellow CURE blogger Bonnie Annis wrote in early September of this year.

Yes, 2020 was the primary pandemic year, but that year certainly didn’t bring normalcy for any of us, and for me, it brought several new and different challenges in my life. I’m sure it was suggested to me by more than one caring person in my life that I slow down and rest more, but I wanted my normalcy back. I wanted to fully participate in the second chance at life, which God had granted me.

Like me, Bonnie sought to live life with intention after cancer, making sure she accomplished everything she wanted or needed to. She wrote that after mentioning to her husband one day that she was tired, he reminded her that she could finish that day’s project the next. As she thought about it, she realized he was right, that adequate rest was necessary and valuable after a cancer diagnosis and treatment; Bonnie slowed down.

I absolutely needed to slow down, as well. My journey through the steps leading to diagnosis with stage 2 lung cancer was challenging in itself. Then I had the first of what would be two lung surgeries which led to the restaging of my lung cancer to 3B after the lymph nodes removed from my chest were found malignant. My second surgery was followed by chemotherapy, radiation and immunotherapy. Soon after completing my immunotherapy, I reached remission and believed the arrival of my normalcy was right around the corner.

I don’t know whether it was a physical reaction to fighting the life-threatening disease, or that I was emotionally unable to see myself as weak, even after I’d been told my cancer was unlikely to recur. Regardless, and unfortunately, I didn’t have the presence of mind to slow down and rest, eventually resulting in a diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

I was able to enjoy my “I-Used-to-Have-Cancer" party, on March 1, 2020, but two weeks later, the COVID-19 pandemic caused a nationwide lockdown. For 20 years before my diagnosis, I had run a successful and hugely rewarding tutoring business. When I began treatment, I lost about half of my approximately 20 school-aged students. Then with the pandemic, things got even worse, and the number of students further dwindled…10, seven, four, three… Not at all technologically oriented, I had to learn online tutoring, which was a challenge, to continue to help a couple of students. I also had to master the Pennsylvania Unemployment Assistance website, to receive the compensation I was entitled to, and truly needed. My business was not successful or rewarding at that point, and I was frustrated.

My daughter and son-in-law both have jobs working in essential services. However, there was no daycare, and the schools were closed. I watched my grandchildren, which was fun, with the exception of needing to master cyber school for my active, social granddaughter in second grade…the tech was hard for me, as was keeping my granddaughter focused and behaving. I was starting to feel a little depressed.

Then the following month, my elderly father passed away. He’d had a good long life, but the end of his life, confined in his room in assisted living with no visitors, must have been devasting for an outgoing, mentally proficient 94-year-old.

In the next two months, both my physical and mental health deteriorated. An online celebration of life was planned for my father, and I was mostly disinterested. In my mind, it was not a real memorial for him or a real celebration of his life. I joined the Zoom meeting but was not there in spirit.

The high point of that online session for me was when my sister-in-law shared with me that a few days before her mother’s death, her mom had told her a similar story to that which I told the group about my dad. I had shared with our family group, “I spoke with my father a few days before his death, and he told me that when looking out the window of his room, he had seen a big bird sitting on a small tree branch; the branch did not break and the bird flew away.” We understood each other’s grief.

Several weeks later, I made a truly wise decision. In early August I called and made an appointment with my primary care physician, who I had seen for about 15 years, and I was very fond of. Since my doctor’s office is only about a mile from the hospital cancer center where I would have my semiannual meeting with my oncologist, I scheduled it for an hour later. My reply was, “I don’t need a sedative, and I’d be afraid to take it.” Turning to my husband, the doctor asked, “How long has she been like this?” By that point, I stopped listening, but by the end of that week, I had realized something was terribly wrong.

In addition to side effects resulting from the chemotherapy and radiation I received, I have a dry eye condition which causes a lot of irritation and squinting. Despite all the discomfort, I had canceled two eye appointments. I had been in psychological therapy during my cancer journey, but even as I struggled emotionally, I had told my counselor that I no longer needed help. I made appointments with both healthcare providers in the next two weeks.

My youngest daughter was planning an outdoor bridal shower in September 2020, and a Florida beach wedding in November 2020, and although it was challenging at times, I took charge of the shower, and it went well. I felt almost my normal self by November and enjoyed her wedding in my mother-of-the-bride mask.

I felt joyful to reach the almost normal self-mark. 

Thank you, Bonnie, for your simple solution, which I will use at any time in the future that I overdo it on a special project, Christmas decorations or even mastering yoga.

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