What No One Tells You After Chemo and Before Surgery

That strange time between chemo and surgery, where everyone expects relief, but your mind and heart are still in survival mode. Here's what it really feels like.

The Space In Between

They told me chemo would be the hardest part. That once it was over, I’d feel better. Stronger. Closer to the finish line. But here I am, in the space between chemo and surgery, and nothing feels certain.

My energy has returned, not only physically. I catch myself thinking about what’s next, making plans, applying for jobs. From the outside, it probably looks like I’m getting back to life. But inside, I feel stuck in a strange emotional in-between. Halfway back to normal.

Halfway still in survival mode.

Halfway healed, halfway terrified.

There are days where everything still feels surreal. Like I’m doing all the things a functioning adult would do, but quietly carrying around this invisible weight. And no one really sees it. Not the sadness, not the fear, not the spirals in my mind that still come and go.

Because yes, I’m scared. Scared of the surgery. Not just of the procedure, but of the anesthesia. It’s an irrational fear, I know, but it’s there.

And then there’s the bigger fear. What if the cancer isn’t gone? What if surgery doesn’t bring the answers I’m hoping for? What if, after all the chemo, the exhaustion, the waiting, I’m still not done?

Will this ever be over?

People tell me I’m “almost there.” That I should feel proud. Or relieved. And I do. But mostly, I feel like I’m still in the middle of something far too big to grasp. Like I’m not quite here and not quite past it.

When Loneliness Kicks In

And then there’s the loneliness. Not in a dramatic way, but in those quiet moments, when you see the world keep turning and everyone else just gets on with their lives.

I miss my friends.

I miss exploring the world with Isa.

I miss picnics in the park with Juliane.

I miss going to the gym with Sara. I miss the boat trips with Fabian.

I miss those cozy evenings with Klara.

I miss dancing into the morning with Ari.

I miss trying out new cafés with Tati.

It’s crazy how much you start to appreciate those things, when they’re no longer part of your everyday life. Health. Human connection. Shared moments that felt so normal..and that I often took for granted.

Now they feel heartbreakingly far away. And in moments like these, all I want is to hold them tight (fuck, I'm sitting in a café writing this and fight to not cry over this now haha).

And no matter how grateful I am for this time of being able to slow down and to rest and heal (because honestly - when do we have that?), there’s a strange paradox: I long for the routine of everyday life again, while knowing I needed this break to feel and process. Without it, I would’ve never made space for the emotional healing I’m doing now.

And now I keep wondering: What comes next? Is there a “life after”? Will things go back to how they were, or be completely different? It all feels close and far at the same time. Like I’m on the edge of something new, but I don’t know what it looks like yet. So weird.

It’s okay to not feel okay.

In the middle of this emotional rollercoaster, I’ve started to shift my own narrative. I used to label the heavy days, the ones where I cried, or felt angry, or deeply sad, as bad days. But now I know better. Now I see them for what they truly are: essential.

Essential for healing. Essential for release. Essential because these are the moments where emotions finally have space to move, emotions that would otherwise stay buried beneath the pace of daily life.

All our life, we've been taught to suppress anything that’s not cheerful or “productive.” But that’s not strength, that’s survival mode. That's what made us sick in the first place. Real strength is allowing yourself to feel. To let the sadness be there. The fear. The grief. The mess. And to know that none of that makes you broken.

Please, don’t let anyone, not even your own inner voice, tell you you’re “too much” or “too emotional” or “depressed” just because you’re finally feeling what’s real.

This isn’t weakness.

This is healing.

This is how we break the cycle. By changing the story.

So if you’re in it, deep in the feelings, the questions, the weight of it all, don’t run. Stay with yourself. Let it out. It’s the most freeing thing you can do.