If you’ve never lived through cancer, it’s hard to explain what a scan means.
To most people, it’s just a medical check. Routine. Clinical. Tick-box.
But for those of us who have walked this road, a scan can feel like standing on the edge of a cliff—waiting to find out if the ground beneath you is still solid… or about to give way.
This is what we call scanxiety.
And I know it well.
Living Between Scans
For me, life has often been measured in intervals—three months, six months, then back into that familiar cycle again.
Scan booked.
Scan done.
Then the wait.
That wait is where the mind goes to work.
You start off steady, telling yourself:
“I feel okay… everything’s probably fine.”
But then the thoughts creep in:
What if it’s back? What if it’s spread? What if this changes everything again?
Even after being told I’m NED (No Evidence of Disease), those thoughts don’t just disappear. Because once you’ve heard the words “you have cancer”, they echo forever in the background.
The Weight of Experience
Scanxiety isn’t just fear of the unknown—it’s fear shaped by experience.
I’ve had surgeries.
I’ve had life-changing treatment.
I’ve lived as a stage 4 patient.
So when I go for a scan, it’s not hypothetical. I know exactly what bad news looks like. I know how quickly life can turn.
That knowledge is both a strength… and a burden you start to remember those phone calls, the places and the dates that will become the very fabric of you. You never forget.
The Waiting Is the Hardest Part
Oddly, the scan itself is often the easiest bit. You lie there, go through the process, and it’s done.
But the days—or sometimes weeks—waiting for results?
That’s where scanxiety really bites.
You carry it everywhere:
Sitting quietly with a cup of tea. Trying to sleep at night. Smiling in conversations while your mind is somewhere else.
It’s like a background noise you can’t switch off.
How I’ve Learned to Cope
I won’t pretend I’ve mastered scanxiety. I don’t think anyone ever truly does.
But I have found ways to live with it.
1. Accepting it’s part of the journey
I used to try telling myself to “be strong” or “don’t worry, it sink be fine”
Now I accept it:
This is scanxiety. It’s normal. It’s part of my story. Part of me.
That acceptance takes away some of its power.
2. Staying present
When my mind runs ahead into “what ifs,” I try to bring it back:
What do I know right now? How do I feel today?
Most of the time, the answer is:
Right now, I’m okay.
And that matters.
3. Keeping life moving
One thing cancer teaches you is this: life doesn’t pause while you wait.
So I make a conscious effort to keep living:
Getting outside.Spending time with family, friends and loved ones. Working on awareness projects Planning the next adventure – nothing like my adventures to Kilimanjaro and Toubkal.
Because life isn’t just what happens after the results. It’s happening now.
4. Talking about it
There’s a temptation to bottle it up—to protect the people around you.
But I’ve learned that sharing the worry actually lightens it.
A simple:
“I’m struggling a bit with the wait”can open the door to support, understanding, and a new connection.
5. Remembering how far I’ve come
When fear takes over, I remind myself:
I’ve faced this before I’ve come through it. Treatments today are incredible.
There was a time I didn’t know if I’d be here writing this.
And yet—I am.
A Message to Others Facing Scanxiety
If you’re reading this and feeling that knot in your stomach as a scan approaches, I want you to know this:
You are not alone.
Scanxiety doesn’t mean you’re weak.
It doesn’t mean you’re not coping.
It means you’re human—and you’ve been through something that matters.
Be kind to yourself in those waiting days.
Fill them where you can. Sit with them when you need to.
And most importantly—keep living your life in between the scans.
One B thing I have found recently is Lego – the more advanced stuff and the crazy lighting kits that can bring your efforts to life. It’s amazing to completely lose yourself in the tranquility of the build and then the intensity of adding the insanely tiny lighting. They look incredible.
One Life… Live It
Cancer has taken a lot from me. But it has also given me something powerful—a deep awareness of how precious life is.
Scanxiety may always be part of my journey.
But it doesn’t get to define it.
Because at the end of the day, there’s one truth I hold onto:
One Life… LOVE IT… LIVE IT.
