After surviving cancer I wanted a moment of triumph – but I’ve come to terms with a less dramatic process

‘I expected other people to somehow put it all together and interact with me in a way that would help me understand’: Megan Maurice at home in Sydney. Photograph: Jessica Hromas/The Guardian

I thought I was prepared for anything when I finished cancer treatment. I had endured the worst days of my life – from multiple surgeries and their slow recoveries, to having the chemotherapy drug that cancer patients call “the red devil” pumped into my veins, losing my hair, being unable to get out of bed, holding my breath 11 times each day to protect my heart from radiation beams – I had got through all of it.

In the months since my diagnosis I had been pushing through in survival mode. I put my head down and followed all the steps that doctors told me would keep me alive. I distracted myself with work, parenting and volunteering and braced myself for the impact of all the feelings that I had been keeping at bay finally overcoming me.