Surviving Cancer and the Tension of Not Knowing

By John Bach

Julie and I at a wedding that overlooked downtown Cincinnati earlier this month.

Julie called me in tears the other day.

She had her four-month check-in with the oncologist to be sure her numbers are normal. I could hear the emotion in her voice, and I immediately regretted that I hadn’t gone with her to the appointment.

What had I missed? What was the news? My mind began to race, and panic set in within seconds of the call. We are three years into her breast cancer journey. She was diagnosed with triple-negative breast cancer (TNBC)  in July of 2021, and only in the last few months have I stopped coming along for every appointment. 

As a quick refresher, her cancer is particularly aggressive, so she opted to treat it aggressively by enduring months of chemotherapy, a double mastectomy, a hysterectomy, a year-and-a-half of additional immunotherapy infusions, plus multiple breast reconstruction surgeries.

Sadly, there are so many trips to see cancer doctors when you are in this fight that what was once novel can actually become routine. There’s a numbness that patients and caregivers can feel after dozens of appointments and years of trips to meet with oncologists and surgeons and so many specialists. 

So here we were: Me walking across campus pressing my phone harder against my ear aching for details. Her sounding upset as she navigates her way back to her car after getting some news.

“It’s nothing bad,” she said, almost immediately — mercifully knowing this is no time to bury the lede.

Exhaling, I ask: “What’s going on?”

The oncologist shared that everything looked normal, and she could now start spacing these check-ins to every six months. He followed this excellent news with even better headlines. Given the proclivity of triple-negative breast cancer to return, every passing chunk of time with clear results becomes increasingly significant. 

Julie immediately cried at the news. And apparently so did the team in the room. She left feeling both joy and fear. How could she go six months without knowing where she stands? This is one of the many cruel examples of the tension that cancer survivors live with daily. 

For today, we cling to the good news, but deep down we also know that six months is a long time to hold your breath.

Recent roadtrip