The C Word

No..not that one. I rather like bandying that one about in the right company. The other one, the one that really fucking sucks. Cancer.

I'm not going to apologize for not talking about this sooner. It's not that I've really cared who knows. But it's taken a lot of energy...understatement of the year. And I've been waiting to be in a place where I'm feeling well enough both physically and emotionally to write it all out. Sympathy and outreach, while well intended, can often serve to soothe the one expressing it more than the one receiving it. Especially when they are feeling overwhelmed.

So...here goes.


October 22nd

I had my first Well Woman exam since Milo was born. I knew it was overdue. I was seeing a doctor that I don't normally go to. I'm not terribly old fashioned, but I still don't want to go to my primary, toss my feet up in the stirrups, and then have to look at him like he didn't just see that at my next appointment.

Everything was pretty normal, but she noticed a lump in my neck. I told her I was just getting over a bad cold, maybe it was just my lymph nodes. Honestly, I had noticed my neck looked a little thicker, but attributed it to not being very observant. Others probably failed to noticed because I'm a big gal, so why would some extra weight there be out of place? Anyway, she suggested I follow up with my primary physician.


November 2nd

My primary physician saw me fairly quickly and felt up my neck. He said it could be several things of no concern, but it could be something...so it was better to rule them out. I left with referrals for a CT Scan, Ultrasound and ENT.


November 30th

I had an ultrasound of the lump. I had a CT scan prior to this, but failed to mark the day on the calendar. It was all starting to run together. Going into the ultrasound I was told if it looked conclusive, I wouldn't have to do a biopsy after...sadly it wasn't clear enough and I had to start planning for that as well.


December 5th

I met my ENT for the first time. After a long wait in the office he wheeled in on a rolly chair and pronounced, "Welp! It's gotta come out!" Referring to my thyroid. I was fairly in shock, didn't they need to find out more first? Nope. On the left side it was almost five inches, a third of my windpipe was obstructed. Regardless of what was going on, it wasn't gonna shrink back down, so...it had to go.

He looked at me like I had grown a third eye when I asked him, "How soon can I drive after?"

"Ma'am you're having surgery and will be in the hospital 1-3 days after. There will be no driving."

All I could think was, I'm a single mom, I don't have time for this! I had to call my own mother, at a loss for how the hell I was going to manage surgery, my son, recovery, etc. Luckily, and many of you know this, my mom is amazing. Not only did she and my dad plan to come down for the surgery, but they also got me a ticket to come home for the holidays, since my son would be spending it with his father. They didn't want me to be alone.

Surgery was scheduled out for January 29th.


December 14th

I was insanely nervous about the biopsy. Like an idiot I had googled a bit and seen just how big the needle going into my neck would be. Bad idea.

I was fortunate to have my wonderful Auntie Barb (or Tiny Auntie, as my son has dubbed her), to chauffeur me and sit with me during the process. I didn't want to try driving with my nerves so raw and if it happened to be sore after.


December 20th (ish) 

I honestly don't recall the exact date...I think this was it. Every day waiting after the biopsy made me more and more anxious. Waiting for the phone to ring, praying for the best possible outcome. After the predicted result day I left messages with my doctor's nurses, and called frequently to check if the results were in. Bless them for not getting annoyed by me.

Finally my doctor called...Papillary Cancer, a form of Thyroid Cancer.

He told me that, of course no one wants cancer. But if you wind up getting it, this was the kind to have. At my age, my prognosis was 85% - 93% positive. Still, and of course, I had been hoping for another outcome. It was overwhelming.

I've put the dates in here to show just how quickly everything happened leading up to the diagnosis. I was incredibly grateful that they were able to schedule everything quickly of course, but it felt...surreal.

I didn't want to share the news...not with Christmas so close. I didn't want to bring anyone else down, or be a "charity case" for lack of better terms.


January 29th

I went home for Christmas the weekend after my diagnosis and was there for New Year. Came back as my son's winter break was ending and went back to life as usual as possible, beginning to plan for surgery.

I had my pre-op, my parents arrived. An Aunt and Uncle even drove over from Oregon to be with my folks and support us. It was all a nice reminder that I am indeed loved.

As a small side story that was touching during this time...my mother had requested a pastor to pray with her before surgery. My dad's cousin Doug lined someone up, and the name felt very familiar. When we met him before surgery he mentioned that he had once pastored in Southern Oregon and had members of his church that were related to some Gildersleeves in Alaska. Did we know a Milo and Vernadell Mann? I immediately started crying. He had been my mom's parent's pastor. No wonder he sounded familiar. I'm not the most religious individual these days, but it was very appreciated and he was such a blessing. Mom and I have kept in touch with him since.

A few other nearby family members were there to support as well. Tiny Auntie even brought me beautiful tulips.

I was anxious. Various members of my family don't react well to being put under and I wasn't looking forward to finding out if I was one of them. Turns out, anesthesia and I aren't buddies. I woke up after surgery sobbing, puking, having an anxiety attack and begging them to tell my mom I woke up so that she wouldn't worry.

I was in the hospital for two and a half or three days. A lot of pain, and out of it a bit.

Unfortunately the day of surgery, I also contracted this horrible upper respiratory crap that was going around. Needless to say, coughing with a throat incision...not so fun. It developed into walking pneumonia as well once I was home.

It took me three weeks to start feeling like myself again. When I could finally drive and be able to turn my head a bit. I spent a lot of those weeks on the couch, icing my incision. Grumpy over not being able to do much, not being allowed to lift over ten pounds, and feeling rather useless in general.

Sadly Dad had to leave shortly after surgery, back to work. But I was so glad he was able to be there. And there are no words for how thankful I was to have my mom during everything. I couldn't have done this alone...most literally.

During surgical recovery I had post-op appointments with my ENT, met my endocrinologist, and had blood tests. They told me that the cancer had spread to my lymph  nodes and they removed twelve nodes during surgery. The good news, was that they didn't think it had spread past that. After that I started planning for the next phase...radioactive iodine treatment.

Incision after being released from hospital. Yay, skin paste!



March 13th 

I started thyrogen injections. During daylight hours I prefer never to witness. Mad props to the amazing radiology staff at the hospital for making it a less miserable experience...as fun as getting shots in the ass at sunrise is. I had to have this done two days in a row. Good times. 

On the third day, the 15th, I went in early and did tests of various bodily fluids. Waited for my pills for quite awhile. It's kind of nerve wracking going into a little room with radiation warnings everywhere, and ingesting pills that the staff won't even touch. 

I had prepped like mad for this. My son stayed with his dad and then his grandma and aunt for the four days I needed to be isolated. I tried to touch as little as possible, wipe down things constantly and the day it was done I did an incredible amount of laundry. Everything had to be washed twice...toilets had to be flushed twice...I sang "Radioactive" to myself a lot. 

It's pretty incredible though. That I was able to do this outside of a hospital. I was also told what side effects were likely, especially given my severe IBS, but managed to feel pretty well. 

On the 18th I went back to the hospital's radiology department. I got fairly fond of the staff. They scanned me and said to avoid holding, hugging, and laying or sleeping next to my son and dog. But otherwise, I should be ok to be out in the public again. 


March 22nd 

Back to radiology. Metastatic Survey / PET Scan. I was anxious again. Tests have that effect, don't they? Hoping again for good results and positive outcome. As someone that isn't a fan of sitting terribly still, I'll say it was tough waiting ten minutes for a single image to be taken. I don't know how anyone manages those that take even longer. 


April 1st

Another appointment with my endocrinologist to go over things. I'll admit that a lot of the time, I'm completely lost with so much medical terminology. So I'll spare you most of it. The take away is that it's looking good. My levels are what they hope/expect after surgery and radiation.

My doctor mentioned that the carcinoma they found during my biopsy was so small on that particular area, that had they moved even a millimeter in any direction they would have missed it. She, a medical professional, used the term "miraculous." 

In a few more weeks I'll do more blood tests. And in six months an ultrasound. If things stay positive, they'll then move to yearly scanning. So here's to keeping a positive outlook for October's scans! 


A week ago, look at me heal like a pro. 

Today

I'm less self conscious than I thought I would be about my scar. It's just...there. People either avoid it, or ask blunt questions. I've taken to telling them I got in a knife fight, or got bitten by a shark...maybe I got in a knife fight with a shark. My ENT says it will fade to a thin white line eventually. A friend that enjoys anime suggested maybe I have another mouth underneath it. My mom thinks I need to tattoo it with a zipper. 

I am feeling...more grateful than I know how to express. To the doctor that noticed my lump, to the ENT with amazing steady hands that performed my surgery, to my primary care physician and his staff for their continued care and concern, to a wonderful endocrinologist that is to the point and open with all my questions, to the amazing radiology department I dealt with, the dozen nurses during my hospital stay, and to all my friends and family that have been there to support and help.

I have cancer. But I also have a thankful heart and a hell of a lot of hope!












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Welcome to my little corner of the crazy. I can't promise I will always have something intelligent to say. Or that my wit will always leave you laughing. But I can say this much...what you see is what you get. I am me...and I'm going to endeavor to share that uncensored. So, pull up a seat. Enjoy yourself and if I perhaps entertain you feel free to...

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