It's Been a While

Nice way to leave you hanging, huh?  Not knowing if I have cancer and all.  Eh, I figured no one was all that worried.  You all discovered via e-mail or phone call or in person or on Facebook (how good am I at the e-communication?!) that all was good.  Actually, come to think of it, if there's anyone reading this who didn't already know that my final path report was benign, I'd like to know who you are.  'Cause you might be one of the El Anonymous commenters.  So stand up and take a bow.  Or something.

Truth be told, I've not been in such a bloggish mood lately.  I think of something to write and I'm all, "Huh. I suppose that could be interesting.  If I could be bothered to drag out the ol' laptop and actually place my fingers upon the keys.  But Ye Olde Laptop is all the way over there.  And I'm tired from all the surgery and work and kids and cooking and laundry and dishes and organizing and budgeting and dealing with the ex-husband and eating and sleeping and breathing and not running.  It can wait." Yeah, I'm just a creative well-spring of words these days. Ugh.

So.

I have officially begun all of my classes. Clinical Calculations for Some Type of Medical Person is just fine, as is Nutrition for the Some Other Kind of Medical Person. Microbiology for the Super Smart Medico is freaking kicking my behind in a seriously scary, painful, nerve-wracking way. Yuck-o. I'm askeered. I want to drop it and then take it again in the Winter 2011 semester in an actual classroom with actual lectures and actual labs but I'm afraid of what that might do to the financial aid I've already budgeted into my life for the next 3 months.

I'm not working out. That probably has a lot to do with how 'blah-ish' I'm feeling lately. I don't have the energy for it. That's probably because I've almost forgotten what vegetables are. I need to find some carrots and squash, stat. I bet that would snap me out of this funk. Someone wanna give me a shove in the right direction? Please?

Seriously, I'm doing okay. I feel great, actually, considering that my throat was cut open less than a month ago. The scar is still sore.  Sometimes I forget that it's there and accidentally scratch an itch or something. When that happens there are a few seconds of blinding, "Oh. My. Gosh. What the %*#$? Did you think for a second that you have a normal neck?! OWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW!" And then I forget about it again.  Other than that, I'd never know that I'd had surgery.

My kids are amazing. I realized the other day that I have more moments of enjoyment with my kids than not. Sadly, a couple of years ago I couldn't say that. There was a lot of stress and anxiety and general malaise that caused me not to enjoy much of anything having to do with child-rearing. I'm not sure when it happened exactly but all of a sudden I started having these moments of thinking,  

"Wow. This is cool. These kids are fabulous. I'm lucky to be doing this," 

and they far out-numbered the moments of thinking,  

"Geez, when is this going to end?  IamsoexhaustedIfeellikeIamgoingtodiebeforetheyareadults." 

It makes me happy and sad to figure this out. Happy because I really like the phase we're in. Sad because I probably missed out on some great moments. Sad because I'm slightly afraid that this is all going to be blown to smithereens in a few short years by teenage angst and hormones and yucky stuff. But for now, I'm going to savor it.

Because now is good and that's what I'm about.

Yup, even with all the health issues and all the work and all the stress and all the school and all the tight budgeting, I'm happy.  I'm still savoring moments and feeling like this is a good life.  I've been dealt a good lot and that's more than a lot of people can say.

And now I'm rambling. I have bread rising in the oven and I've had some wine and it's time to go to bed. After I punch down the dough. See ya.

Surgery Update

So I had surgery.  They put me to sleep and cut open my throat and sucked massive amounts of tissue out of my neck.  Now I have bloody steri-strips across my throat.  How's that for an update?  Sorry, had to get it out of my system.  I occasionally have to fulfill my urges to be crude and graphic.

Anyway, I had the surgery.  It went well, didn't take as long as the surgeon expected, I recovered quickly.  I say recovered but I'm not fully recovered yet.  I still can't turn my head fully from side to side.  That hurts, kind of a lot actually.  I'm not hurting enough to need pain relief any more, though.  I haven't had oxycodone since Sunday afternoon and haven't taken even acetaminophen since yesterday morning.  Pretty sweet, I say.

I was extremely nervous the morning of the surgery.  It didn't help that Paul and I sat in the waiting room and talked about possible outcomes.  Outcomes like, "What if I don't wake up?"  "What if I throw a clot and have a stroke and go into a persistent vegetative state?"  "What if I go into a coma, come out of it and can talk but can't wipe my own butt?"  That's fun stuff to talk about, huh?  Okay, not so fun, but necessary in that situation.  And besides, it did help a tiny bit.  At least at the end of it I was sure that I wouldn't be left lying in a bed with only a feeding tube keeping me alive.  Anyway, we hashed out all the possible scenarios we could and I signed my life (temporarily) into Paul's hands.  And then we both sat and read our respective books (me: Providence by Daniel Quinn, him: Lamb by Christopher Moore) while we waited for the nurse to call me back.

The nurse who prepped me for surgery was cool, if a tad overkill with her whole you're-going-to-be-fine-this-is-so-not-a-big-deal routine. She was a little too hang-ten surfer chick for me.  There was a lot of "dude" and "man" and stuff like that.  But she took very good care of me and I probably would like her very much in another setting.

I met almost everyone who was going to be in on my surgery.  I met the anesthesiologist who was scheduled to put me under but then the schedule changed and I met a new anesthesiologist.  I met a surgical resident who would be coming in to assist my surgeon.  I met the medical student who was coming in to observe.  I met the head scrub nurse and she informed me that there would be a few other nurses in there also.  And then before I knew it I had to kiss Paul good-bye.  The scrub nurse wheeled me down the hall on one of those beds with an IV pole attached to me and a chart lying across my thigh and an elastic paper cap on my head.  I was one of those people -- the sick people.  It was very surreal.

And then I was in a cold operating room and they told me to scoot over onto the operating table.  I almost refused.  For 2 seconds I was paralyzed and I almost said "No, I'm not doing that.  You're going to have to move me because I'm not doing it." But instead I looked at the dozen faces around me, at the massive lights, at the sterile fields surrounding me and at my bed and my table and I said, "Wow, there are a lot of people in here. There's a lot of stuff in here," and I moved to the table. Just about the time I was about to hyperventilate and have a major freak out, the anesthesiologist said, "I'm giving you some meds to make you sleepy." And then I woke up.

Recovery was full of odd sensations.  I could feel something in the vicinity of my throat but it didn't hurt and I was afraid to touch anything for fear of making it hurt.  My eyes were really dry and I couldn't see.  Someone gave me a saline bullet to moisten them.  I wanted to stay awake and look around but I kept falling asleep, despite my best efforts. Apparently things went very well, though because they moved me to post-op after less than an hour and I went home less than an hour after that.

I've spent the week since then slowly increasing my activity and decreasing my meds and feeling pretty good, if a little tired.  I will go back to see the surgeon on Thursday and he should have a final pathology report for me by then.  I'm crossing my fingers that it's all good and this whole thing is behind me now.

During this time I've been reminded, repeatedly, how wonderful my family and friends are.  Jenn and Caleb took over my kids for 48 hours so I didn't have to cope with homework and showers and meals and transportation.  Paul stayed with me, brought me food, pills, water and ice packs.  He reminded me how much medicine to take and when.  He called my family and friends after my surgery and let everyone know that everything turned out well.  People at work have offered me any help I might need, sent me cards and flowers, called to inquire about me, one of them cooked and froze enough food for at least 5 nights of dinners.  My grandparents sent monetary support.  These are all good, good people.  Thank you, all of you.  I really wish there were some way to re-pay you.

Surgery

Well I have a follicular neoplasm in my throat.  That means my thyroid contains atypical cells and no one is sure if they're malignant or not and they can't tell unless they take them out.  So I'm going to have the left side of my thyroid removed.  It's all scheduled, pre-authorized with the insurance company and I'm pre-registered with the hospital.  All I have to do now is fill out the living will and advance directive.  I'm not looking forward to that.

I know exactly what I want to be done with my body if the big "What If ..." happens but I don't like thinking about it.  Paul and I talked about it a lot when he had surgery last year.  I've talked about it with Jenn and Caleb and Lance, too.  I've talked about it a little with Mom and Dad.  I'm confident that everyone who matters will make sure that my wishes are honored if and when that time comes.  But putting it into writing is just different.  It's so final.  I guess that makes sense -- they're final wishes.  I know I can change it if I change my mind, but as of September 15 at 1:30 pm it's Final until I wake up.  I think that's the thing that has me on edge -- that this could be Final.  It's not likely to be, but it could be.

Wow, I'm morbid this morning.

I'll be glad to have this over with.  It's not like my thyroid has been a huge source of worry and pre-occupation for me but it will be nice not to have to think about it at all any more.  No more biopsies, no more ultrasounds, no more anything.  Just get it cut out and be done with it.

The surgeon is of the opinion that I can probably avoid thyroid replacement hormones.  I like that.  I don't want to mess with them, with mood swings or hair loss or temperature intolerance or weight gain.  The surgeon and the endo both think that since my left side is not normal at all the right side is compensating for it and can probably continue to do so.  Neither of them think we need to do anything with the right side -- it's perfectly thyroid-ish and not at all nodule-ish.  Yay for that, huh?

So there it is.  After 31 years of no surgeries, almost no scars and being hospitalized only for childbirths, I'm going to have A Thing.  A Surgery. A Story.

I Look Like I Was Bitten by a Vampire

And I feel like I got a Chuck Norris punch to the throat.  Ouch.

I went to the endocrinologist for a biopsy of my gargantuan thyroid today.  I'm not kidding about the gargantuan part, either.  It used to measure 4cm x 5cm and now measures 5cm x 7cm.  Or so I'm told. Whatever.  It's big.  Not like developing a second head big, but big nonetheless.  Big enough that medical type people and Mom say, "Hm, your thyroid is large."  Actually, Mom says, "Are you sure that isn't bigger than it was the last time I saw you?"

I love my mom -- duh.  (Hi, Mom!  I love you!)  She's always made a point of not being pushy because she hates when people are pushy but she can't help commenting on my thyroid.  I don't really blame her.  She had cancer in hers and the disorder she had is genetic.  And one of my sisters is having thyroid issues already.  And Mom had cancer.  If I were my mom I'd be concerned about my thyroid too.

Anyway, I went to the endo yesterday and had an ultrasound.  According to the endo the left side of my thyroid "contains no normal tissue."  It's all one big, fat, hairy nodule.  Okay, it's not really fatty or hairy because it's a thyroid, but it's big.  It's big and it's 'hypervascular.'  And it's big enough and vascular enough that she wanted me back for a biopsy today.  Fortunately, the right lobe of my thyroid is perfectly healthy, with minimal blood flow.

I hate biopsies, especially when they're of my own thyroid. Biopsies cause me a lot of anxiety.  I only have anxiety issues when it comes to my vomiting offspring, the ex-husband and his new offspring, and my thyroid.  Actually, I have anxiety over needles puncturing my thyroid.  Nine needles, to be precise.  Ugh.

I contemplated taking a Valium, pre-biopsy.  Ultimately, I decided against it for a lot of reasons.  They are as such:

1. A lot of my previous thyroid related anxiety was actually ex-husband anxiety.  You see, when I had the last biopsies, he was cheating on me for the third time (Yup, third! That I knew of!) and I was interviewing attorneys for my inevitable divorce.
2. I will likely require biopsies of my thyroid for years to come so I might as well get used to it.
3. I was going to have to get Lance to come with me and then drive me home in case I was drunk on Valium.
4. I didn't want to be drunk on Valium all day.
5. I gave birth to 3 children virtually 100% unmedicated.  What's a few needles in my neck?

So I didn't take any Valium.  And I lived.  I cried and I hyperventilated and I panicked.  But I lived.  That's the important part, right?

Now I await results.  My doctor thinks she can call me tomorrow with results.  I'll be hugely impressed if she can.  In my previous experience, biopsy results are at least a week out.  Anyway, I'm not complaining.  I just want to know what I've got here.  If it's cancer I might have the thing taken out next week.  Even if it's not I might still have it taken out in the next month.

Whew.  That's a lot of information right there.  I think it's past time that I finish my wine.

Oh, yeah.  The vampire thing.  I appear to have two puncture wounds on my neck.  This doc is so good that when she injected the lidocaine (twice) she marked the spots and took samples from the same sites.  Crazy stuff, huh? But my throat is pretty beat up.  It hurts to swallow and I'm swollen. Ugh.