Scanxiety: Life After Cancer Treatment and the Lingering Fear of What Comes Next

The world goes quiet when treatment ends. No more appointments. No more countdowns to the next infusion. No more late-night Google searches, medication alarms, or labs to monitor every cell in your body. But for Josh, the silence was not peace—it was uncertainty.

My brother, Joshua, was diagnosed in November 2024 with Stage 4 non-small cell lung cancer (NSCLC). A punch to the gut, but even in the chaos, there was a thread of hope. The cancer had not spread to any major organs—only the pleura cavity. Even more promising, Josh had a genetic mutation—EGFR+, which meant he could be treated with Tagrisso, a targeted therapy with a strong success rate in shrinking tumors.

He took the pill every day. No missed doses. He also braved four rounds of chemotherapy. Although the original plan was six, his oncologist was stunned at his progress—the tumor shrank from nearly 7cm to under 2cm. Two rounds were canceled. Everyone called it a miracle.

Then came the talk of surgery. A lobectomy. Removing part of his lung. Josh hesitated. Half a lung? After all he had already endured?

A second opinion gave him a lifeline: SBRT—stereotactic body radiation therapy. Four high-dose treatments, non-invasive, targeted. He was in. But fate had one more twist. That same day, a pulmonary embolism was found by chance. Another silent threat. Another reminder of how unpredictable this journey can be.

After treating the embolism, Josh completed his radiation therapy. His scans were clear. There were no signs of disease.

But here’s where most people stop listening.

Because what comes after the battle is the part no one talks about.

      Welcome to Scanxiety

Scanxiety is a term cancer survivors and caregivers know too well. It’s the fear, anxiety, and emotional spiral leading up to follow-up scans. Every headache feels like a warning. Every chest spasm is a whisper of recurrence. Every “normal” ache is anything but.

For Josh, life no longer moves at the same desperate pace. There’s no regimen. No surgeries to prep for. No countdown to the next treatment. The hustle to survive is over, and what’s left is... stillness. And in that stillness, fear grows.

He doesn’t say it out loud often, but he feels it deeply:
“What if the cancer comes back?”

That fear creeps in quietly:

• While brushing his teeth and noticing a tension in his shoulder.

• When he yawns and feels a tightness in his chest.

• When a simple headache sends his mind into a tailspin.

He tries to tell himself it’s just life. Just aging. Just being human. But cancer has changed his relationship with his body forever.

      The Emotional Weight Survivors Carry

The world often sees remission as an ending, but for patients like Josh, it’s the beginning of a new kind of battle. A mental and emotional one. A battle that’s invisible but heavy.

There’s guilt—why did he respond so well when others didn’t?
There’s grief—for the life that used to be his.
There’s isolation—because few understand that healing doesn’t mean healed.

       What Helps When Scanxiety Hits

If you or someone you love is battling scanxiety, here’s what can help:

• Talk about it. Whether it’s a therapist, support group, or a trusted friend, saying it out loud helps.

• Stay present. Mindfulness and grounding techniques can help pull the brain back from catastrophic thinking.

• Limit over-Googling. It’s hard, but constant symptom-checking creates more anxiety than answers.

• Track your emotions, not just symptoms. Journaling helps differentiate fear from fact.

• Create a scan-day ritual. Some survivors wear their favorite shirt, play a playlist, or light a candle—small acts that reclaim control.

  
  

  Holding Space for Josh—and All Survivors

Josh is still here. He’s breathing. Laughing sometimes. Loving deeply. Trying to live a life that feels full, even when fear tries to take up space.

This journey has been long. And while the world may measure success in clear scans, we measure it in courage—the kind that shows up every day, even when the world no longer sees the battle scars.

If you're navigating scanxiety, know this:
You're not broken.
You're not alone.
And every breath you take is proof of your fight.

If this touched you or you’re walking a similar path, share this post and help raise awareness about the hidden side of survivorship. Scanxiety is real—and so is your strength.

Image from The Wellness Corner