中Every small step forward on the recovery journey still took a few weeks, and one had to observe quite closely to spot it. Therefore, when suddenly on one April day I had uninterrupted meals and ate without a runny nose all day, I almost missed the occasion completely.
Yes, the long-awaited pain-free eating day has gently arrived unannounced.
Remember my “side effect easing order wishlist”, and what’s top of the list? I actually made a personal deal that I would regard myself as fully recovered if the top issue, mucositis, healed to the extent that allows me to eat and drink pain-free all day. Other problems have simple relief even if persistent for life, except for that pain.
A few friends reminded me not to jump straight back into work right after reaching this important milestone, for I would be in an even better shape in another month or two’s time. I remembered what my medic friend said too about the minimum six-month recovery period post-radiotherapy —— she’s pretty spot on (October to April)! Honestly, I was also keen to take my time and enjoy this new peace and freedom, with less daily hassle of organising what and how best to eat.
Finally it’s my turn for the COVID-19 vaccine in May! Upon leaving the vaccination centre, volunteers were handing out “I’ve had my COVID vaccination” stickers. Many of us, myself included, happily stuck it on our coat or the back of the smartphone. The last time I got so chuffed by just a sticker must have been from my childhood days when a teacher handed me one! Some people asked if I was concerned about some rare side effects from the vaccines. Well, as you know, thanks to the ninja, I’ve had to deal with rather “rare” physiological issues. I didn’t bother to calculate which is more rare —— the ninja or the side effects, since the chance of getting hit by either is so tiny. Managing one’s life with a fixation on very rare events is unwise and unproductive, so I certainly am not expecting readers of Zoe’s Ninja to all panic and check the back of their throats just because they’ve read about my very rare genetic “jackpot”. I would rather focus on events which are much more likely, such as the chance of me getting seriously ill from COVID-19 or passing it onto others had I remained unvaccinated and led a “normal” social life.
A combination of vaccination, warmer weather and further healing from mucositis opened up more opportunities for my daily routine. I was comfortable having even longer walks, taking pit stops at local independent restaurants and cafes, either on my own or catching up with friends whom I hadn’t met for months. It felt great that I could support small businesses which have pulled through the pandemic and at the same time tick items off my long “to-eat list”!
Meanwhile, my hair and skin also showed strong signs of recovery. Who could offer a better perspective on that than my hairstylist?
I started noticing a thin layer of new fine growths on my bald patch around Chinese New Year in mid-February. For the hair which had stayed on throughout and beyond radiotherapy, it hardly grew a tiny bit, probably because my body rationed all energy and nutrients to run and repair more vital organs. It wasn’t until late April —— around the time of the pain-free milestone —— that I could consider booking my next haircut appointment. My stylist has experience dealing with hair issues caused by cancer treatments, and she noticed straight away how the fine and curly new strands contrasted those old ones of the exact opposite texture. She skillfully blended the two together so it wouldn’t appear that I was wearing an ill-fitted wig! At an appointment two months later, such blending was still required but the new strands had grown thicker, albeit still a little curly. We’re pretty sure that given another few months, the regrowth would be indistinguishable from the old strands in look and texture. Wouldn’t it be an understatement that a professional hairstylist “only cuts hair”?
The proximity of my surgical scar to the hairline also offered my stylist a really up-close view. What used to be a pink and fresh scar before radiotherapy has become so faint that it would take some effort to look for it even at close range. When front-facing, the scar is completely obscured by my jawline, even I can’t see it when looking into the mirror. Mr J predicted it so accurately in our very first consultation: “it’ll be similar to what happens after a facelift —— very faint and well hidden in natural neck folds.”
Summer arrived a little late in June, so did the concomitant blaring sun. Finally it’s time to take the issue of post-radiotherapy sun protection seriously if I want to spare my irradiated skin from cancer. Putting on SPF 50+ lotion was a must, but how about clothing? Turtlenecks or snoods would protect the right patch of skin but were far too warm, whereas scarves just slid and rested on my shoulders no matter how I tied them. Headwear? Caps are only good for blocking the dazzling sun from the front. Mexican sombrero? Wow, that’s a bit too flamboyant for me. Phew, it was quite a relief when I found a hat that fit the bill!
I was in pretty good shape indeed in June. Notably, lymphoedema seemed to have resolved by itself, as I no longer had to rely on daily walks to open up my voice. The repair of my salivary glands was going well too. Verbal conversations have become a lot more natural as I didn’t have to take a sip every few minutes.
Appearance, normal. Energy levels, good. Mind, sharp. Voice, full-bodied. Speech, fluent. Ah, sounds like it’s the right time to open some messages from headhunters......
After months of deliberation, I decided to stay in science. Having been away from the professional world for almost a whole year, I took myself by surprise that I had spontaneous answers to pretty much every question without much pre-interview preparation work. Is work so ingrained in me, just like how I was clearly still thinking about it while being operated on!? Or perhaps it’s thanks to my ex-colleagues’ sharing of work anecdotes so I wasn’t that out of touch?
It’s natural that all headhunters and potential future employers got curious about the reasons behind my career break. I just told them straight that cancer made me give up my last job and I had finally recovered sufficiently to start working again. This didn’t seem to have concerned them at all as interviews and offers kept coming. I’m grateful that in the 21st century I have the privilege to engage with inclusive recruiters and organisations which don’t regard “cancer” as a shortcoming of mine.
A job interview is a mutual opportunity to assess my fit with the role and the organisation. I paid extra attention to how well the organisation’s senior management and culture fit with my post-cancer life. As an old schoolmate put it, in front of me laid a blank canvas, it’s now up to me how to paint it the way I like. With that in mind, I politely declined a few opportunities. I also decisively withdrew from an interview process with an organisation despite having passed the first three stages, mainly because of serious doubts in my boss-to-be’s communication skills and professional experience when I repeatedly received vague responses to my technical questions.
Has this long journey towards rebirth inspired my career decisions?
Yes. While not losing sight of the plethora of issues obstructing various aspects of my daily life, I actively sought purpose and enjoyment in things I could do. I’m rejoining the professional world with a similar mindset, focusing on what I could contribute and being less self-conscious about my limitations and weaknesses, for that’s what teamwork is for —— I’ll have my colleagues to fall back on.