I’m facing an end. A good end, but an end all the same.
My appointment next week in Ann Arbor is most likely going to be my last one. I received an e-mail from Marcia, my primary contact at the clinic earlier this week saying she would not be there for my appointment and then she said,”Most likely, we will not schedule another follow up, as you are now so many years from your treatment, and also, you have a good primary medical doctor.”
This has been part of my life, my medical care for the nearly 25 years (next February marks 25 years since I was diagnosed). It has been my “safety net” in knowing that all the important things that need to be checked are being checked. Yes, I do have a good primary medical doctor. But he has hundreds of patients and this isn’t his thing, not even something he is remotely interested in. At least by going to Ann Arbor, I have had the reassurance that if there was something serious regarding a late effect from my treatment, they would be aware of it because they follow up on the reports and studies that cross their desk with regard to childhood cancer survivorship.
I’ve already cried over this, in fact, just writing this has made my eyes tear up and my anxiety to kick in. And yes, I have already had a session with #5 devoted to processing this and how to get some sense of closure about it.
But truth be told, I’m scared of letting go of these appointments. I don’t think I realized how much of a support system this was for me.
And I will miss Marcia. She has been there for this whole experience, beginning to end.
