Facing the fear and anger

Four years ago when I was first became aware that I may have cancer, I wrote a great deal in my journal.
I wrote about how I hoped I would be remembered - really rather sappy stuff. I even wrote about how I felt a certain excitement about seeing what was on the other side. In my early writing I never talked about being angry or even afraid of dying. I did write about feeling of deep sadness that the little ones in my life - the ones that I feared would need me so badly as they grew up, wouldn’t - well, I just wouldn’t be them for me.
Now, 4 years later, 4 years this month - I know beyond a doubt that I have cancer and that I will die from it.
I can honestly say that many of my early writing still hold true. But now I can see the denial in my reported lack of fear and anger. I by no means dwell in sadness, fear, or anger - I can just look back and see those emotions - more in my action than in my written word. For instance, I can remember telling everyone about my cancer, it didn’t matter who else was around. If I saw someone I knew, I was going to tell them, if there were a few people between us I would just talk louder. I always replayed these instances in my mind and eventually I recognized my actions as shear panic. Because of past histories, I have spent the last 25 years trying to control my emotions. So, Since I could not allow myself to shout, scream, or cry about my dx -( I guess I didn’t and still don’t allow myself to really have an emotional connection to the truth of my being, ) anyway, the outburst of loud talking were my way of screaming. When I would replay it, I could viscerally feel the panic in my voice - I could feel it building to ever higher vibration. Those days have pasted me and I have realized that now days I seldom mention my dx / px to someone unless they ask. I do feel much calmer, and maybe a little sadder.
I now feel the fear of impending death, but only occasionally. Something will happen, maybe I will see something on TV, hear something on the radio, read something on the list, or and most often, I just suddenly
feel the reality of my own death. It is a gut wrenching all absorbing fear. Fortunately, theses frozen moments in time are few and far between.