The latest revelation

Last Monday I spent the morning with my parents at Dana Farber. And even though there's nothing to worry about, I think I still get this subconscious anxiety that puts me on edge. I was quiet, kept to myself, and became easily annoyed with my parents' accompanying me to see my doctor. It's a double-edged sword for me. On the one hand, I don't want to be by myself now going to Dana Farber. If anything were to happen, I do not want to be alone. I also like someone to come along so that I'm not the only one going through this. I imagine it's easy to forget my experience because I act fine, I look fine, and the last thing I'd do is draw attention to my leukemia. But coming with me to my appointment is a reminder: I still take all these pills, I'm still prone to side effects; while the cancer may be gone, aspects of it still remain. But it's really personal for me, and I'm not totally comfortable having others privy to all that I share with my oncologist.

On Monday I felt as if my parents were asking my doctor more questions than I was. I got annoyed because in my head I thought, "This is my check-up, so why are they talking?" It sounds ridiculous, but I was being possessive: of my doctor, of my nurse, of my cancer - it's mine. I was venting later though to my sister and she made me realize the alternate perspective. As much as this whole experience has been me going through it all, I have in no way been alone. This leukemia has been just as much of an ordeal for my parents, my siblings, and everyone who has supported me along the way. I've borne the physical brunt, but emotionally, we've all suffered in some way. So while my doctors and my nurses have been healing me, they've been healing my family too. It wasn't just me going to my Wednesday DF appointments, it was my parents, it was my sisters, it was my brother. There's an infusion chair and a companion chair, and in my corner, both spots were always taken.