Some things they don't tell you about cancer

 I've talked to a lot of people who have been impacted by cancer, either having it themselves or caring for someone who does.

There are a couple of common threads.

The first one shouldn't be surprising if you're at all familiar with the US health system: Cancer is expensive. You're going to hit your max out-of-pocket. Even with good insurance, this can be a lot. You'll quickly learn what counts toward deductibles, what's covered, etc. You'll never look at insurance policy choices the same way again. And if you're unemployed, tenuously employed, or self-employed, you'll be incredibly grateful going forward for the fact that insurers are no longer allowed to deny coverage for pre-existing conditions.

The next one is that it's time consuming. Sure, there's the emotional work in the beginning of coming to terms with the diagnosis, but I mean beyond that. I had it somewhat easy, with no chemo or radiation because of the surgery I chose. Those take time. All of these will knock you down. You'll be out of your standard routine for a long time. I am now somehow over 2 years out past my diagnosis. I see my doctors every few months. I get labs every time I see the oncologist. I have had multiple ultrasounds on things that feel suspicious. It's still expensive, but less so now. But I am still spending substantial time seeing doctors. I have the luxury of living 5 minutes from the place I get treatment, but I have heard many people there mentioning that it took them over an hour to get there. This quickly adds up. I've also known folks who have had to leave home to get treatment when their best treatment options were not close by. Another friend spent months in the hospital getting her chemo done as in-patient. Time and money both add up fast.

Finally, even on the other side, you'll never be the same. Your body will be changed. You'll be tired for a long time. Your sense of invincibility will be gone. You'll have new symptoms and side effects from whatever medication you may be on. And the specter of cancer will always lurk. You'll wonder if you have it again, still. You'll wonder about whether something you're doing will bring it back. You'll wonder. I know this applies to any big event in a life, but I was so focused on getting through the first part that I never stopped to consider what happens *after*.

Also, if you go with mastectomy, you'll spend the first year feeling your lumpy rib and being convinced the cancer is back (it's probably not but ask your doctor). I try to be positive --- I know how lucky I was --- and use all of this to make me more likely to seize the moment and do the things I want to do (and don't do some of the ones I don't want to do!). But I am not the same person I was before cancer.