This is what it's like to have scanxiety

Last night I had a meltdown. The fear that had built up inside of me spilled out on what should have been a normal Sunday night. While my partner sorted dinner and fed the dogs, I lay in bed wrapped tightly in a blanket riddled with the night before my yearly mammogram fear.

It's the coldness of June, the visceral feeling this

time of year brings and the Facebook reminders of 'here's what you were doing three years ago'. I'm right back there remembering every moment of my diagnosis. I can't shake the thoughts rushing through my head, 'the cancer is back', 'no you can't plan the family you want', 'you can't grow the business you've started' and 'no life won't be gentle on you'.

(Image: me about to have my first post cancer mammogram in 2019).

Once you've experienced cancer it's very hard to trust your body and that life is going to go as planned. Every pain, cough, tiny niggle in my body sparks 'it's back!'I have even found myself doing what I tell people not to do and Googled 'signs cancer has come back'. You hold your breath until you are told 'there's no sign of cancer' and can let go again for another year.

My life hasn't so much as flashed before my eyes in the past few days, rather it's played in painful detail until 3AM. People want cancer survivors to be stoic and inspiring but I just want the chance to live a normal life. I want to have a child, walk my dogs and have a pedestrian life with my partner. I would give anything not to live with the ongoing fear of reoccurrence hanging over my head.

The rush of relief didn't come straight away. Sitting in the waiting area after having my mammogram my head ran through all the possible scenarios. Not even the thumbs up and 'everything is OK' from the sonographer released the anxiety. Standing in the dressing room I wanted to double over and cry, I waited until I got to my car and let out a sob.

Slowly my body relaxed as the knowledge I had been given another reprieve from cancer sunk in.

(Image: sleepless nights and a clear mammogram 2021.)

Cancer teaches you we do not have any control over our bodies. No matter what we do there is always the possibility of a rogue cell causing havoc.

I wish I had a pearl of wisdom to end on, I am grateful for a clear mammogram. I am relieved to be and cautiously optimistic about starting the embryo transfer process. And for another year I will try and live my life as if the cancer will never return.