Hi, Anissa ~
I'm sorry to learn that you've been feeling more vulnerable than usual and I can totally understand those feelings. As Steve and many other posters have correctly noted, the AN experience can be life-altering, on a number of levels. Not the least of which is one's sense of mortality. My AN adventure was complicated by a pre-op cancer scare. Thankfully, a false alarm - but one that generated a couple of very tense days until the biopsy proved that there was no cancer. As a committed Christian, I was prepared to leave this life but not exactly complacent about the possibility. My wife, who shares my faith, made it clear that even if I was ready to go, if that was God's plan, she wasn't quite ready to be a widow. Although we can joke about this today, it was a real tough thing to deal with during the few days the cancer scare was the 800 pound gorilla in the middle of the room, if you'll forgive the metaphor. I'm sure it brought us closer together, as these situations often do.
Another reason my AN diagnosis was a bit of a shock was that, over the years, while my wife has struggled with Fibromyalgia , IBS, Crohn's Disease and some fairly serious spinal problems stemming from a 1992 auto accident (she was rear-ended) I've been 'the healthy one' with no real physical problems. Suddenly, I was the one running to doctor's offices and eventually, having surgery and being hospitalized. I had always been the one visiting her in the hospital. Now it was me...and I didn't much like it. Although I was cooperative with the doctors, nurses and other medical personnel I dealt with, I was a bear at home. That finally dissipated as I recovered and 'got my life back' (my characterization) but the experience reminded me that I'm not immune to physical problems. I've always had sympathy for my wife's medical issues but now I have empathy, too. I feel that I'm now more tolerant and sympathetic to others physical challenges. That wasn't always the case. I used to ignore other people's physical problems, mostly due to an immature, self-centered attitude that age and my AN experience helped remove, and for which I'm thankful.
As for wondering "what comes next" - that sounds like a form of fatalism that I don't adhere to. Although I'm well aware that I'm quite mortal and subject to Hamlet's 'slings and arrows of outrageous fortune' I refuse to dwell on the possibility that my debulked-and-radiated AN may somehow resurrect itself or that I'll develop cancer or whatever bad development I might imagine. I could work myself into a real depression doing that - so I don't. Just as I'm well aware of my shortcomings (I can't cook, sing very well or play the piano) I also appreciate what I do have; a good marriage, a fine adult son, a comfortable-if-not-luxurious lifestyle. At my age, I'm quite aware of my mortality. That doesn't mean that I live in fear of not living anymore. Of course I hope I don't have any more serious medical issues to deal with, but if I do, I'll face them, as I faced my AN. I think you will, too, on the slim chance that ever becomes necessary, Anissa. In the meantime, I follow the advice of Jesus, who stated quite succinctly (in Matthew 6:34): "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own": That works for me.
Jim