I think I’m just going to turn all of my blog titles into Fall Out Boy and Panic! At the Disco references, LOL.
Since my last blog post (6/2015), I’ve had my radiation
treatment (AKA, “ablation”) and have started my thyroid replacement medication
(TRT). I’ve also gone to my first secular concerts (I’m not counting
Transiberian Orchestra and Pentatonix), messed up my meds and gone off the deep
end, and kind of gotten back into a routine. It’s been an eventful 30 days.
On 6/4/15, the surgeon went in and removed my thyroid, and a
lymph node. Sure, having your thyroid removed has some major consequences, but
you still have some thyroid cells left in your system. Radiation annihilates
whatever thyroid cells you have left, leaving you feeling like your arms and
legs are made of lead. The radiation treatment is relatively simple—you take a
pill. That’s it. You spend 3 days in total isolation, 7-10 days away from your
child, and about 7 days sleeping separately from your spouse…5 days after you
take the radioactive pill, you get to start your TRT. By day 4, I could barely
walk to my car. I was working 4-hour days, and all-but-crawling to my car. The
day before I started the TRT, I sat in my car and bawled like a baby in the
parking lot of my job. I was pretty much at the end of my rope, crying out to
God, and knowing I could not cope with being awake for the drive home. My
little sister had a few days where she’d answer the phone, and talk to me about
anything-and-everything to make sure I stayed awake for my 45-minute commute.
She was a Godsend!
On my 5th day, I took the little miracle pill
known as TRT. By the next day, I was back to an 8-hour work day…but by
Thursday, everything went downhill. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday were
increasingly awful; by Saturday, instead of being happy to see my son after 10
days, I was annoyed by him; I told my mom I was “in Hell,” and I was devastated
that the “little miracle pill” wasn’t going to work for me. I didn’t know what
to do, and I was so angry. David caught the worst of it; I still can’t yell, so
I whisper-screamed terrible things at him…He didn’t know what to do with me,
either, and we were a mess….
But then Sunday came, with a frightening realization: My
medications were messed up. Instead of taking my usual ½ Wellbutrin (anxiety
med) and 1 Coreg (heart med), I was taking 1 ½ Wellbutrin, and no Coreg. THREE
TIMES my normal dose of Wellbutrin? Small wonder that I lost my mind. When I
corrected the dosages, things began to get better. Within 24 hours, the thyroid
meds and my regular meds were working together, and things seemed much better
(and continue to be so).
I’ve had my first body scan since my radioactive treatment;
the results were not anything unexpected, and sound a little scarier than they
are. Basically, the scan looks for all of the thyroid cancer cells that take in
the radiation. That determines how far
the cancer has spread, and lets them know if they’re getting it all. My scan
showed that the cancer has spread into more lymph nodes than they thought, but
since the cells are taking in the radioactive isotopes, then they’re being
treated, slowly-but surely. They will monitor my thyroglobulin and TST; as long
as the thyroglobulin starts to go down, I’m in good shape. If it doesn’t go
down, or if it starts to go up, then I’m looking at more radiation/surgery. I’m
hoping to avoid both. I won’t have another scan until next year, and will have
regular labs over the course of the next 2 years. Unfortunately, that means the
“C” word is now a part of my vernacular. Frankly, I’d like to ditch it.
Other happenings since my last post: Our roof has a hole in
it. There’s a tarp between us and total destruction. This freaks me out, and
pesters me in the back of my brain like Chinese water torture (guess that’s not
very PC). My husband’s car broke down, but it got fixed, so that’s good….and
mice decided to invade our house, so I fought back with an electromagnetic
ultrasound-thingy that seems to be working. All of that happened the week I had
to do the radiation, so that was a BAD week in our house. :) We’ve only JUST had
someone out to put a bid on the repairs, so I’m really, REALLY ready to have the
stuff fixed. Ugh—being an adult/homeowner is hard, LOL. I’m all for selling the
house and just renting. I’m over this grown-up-property-owner crap.
The biggest issues I’ve struggled with through this whole
cancer-thing is anger—I think I’ve said that before. I’ve just been angry at
the whole process…at having a bar-coded card I have to present at the doctor’s
office, at the inconvenience of losing all of my vacation/sick leave to
something so “unfun,;” at spending yet another summer dealing with doctors and
surgeries, instead of getting to do what I WANT to do (the beach!!!! I just want to go to the beach!!!!!!—stomps foot—BEACH!!!!),
and it’s been hard to let that go. My friends are going to Vegas, and the
Mediterranean, and England…RAWR. Yes, there are people that have it FAR worse
(my own stepbrother had a terrible motorcycle accident—he’s in much worse shape
right now), and I got “the best” cancer you can get. I am fully aware that I am
a giant, monster-baby-big-fat-whine-bag, and I’m being a bit of a punk about it
all, truly. I just wanted to take a frickin’ vacation, already, is that
okay?!?!? Sheesh.
Anyways, all of my douchery aside, I am thankful. Dealing
with no thyroid is NO JOKE, and the more I read, the more I realize that my
thyroid probably crapped out a long time ago. Getting it out, and getting the
right medication, is probably a blessing in disguise in some way (that I will figure
out after I finally get to a beach somewhere). I’m grateful that my husband
hasn’t flat-out bent me over his knee and busted my rear for being a brat. I’m
grateful my parents were able to take care of my son for 7 straight days, and
care for me 3 solid days. I’m grateful that I opted for insurance through my
husband’s employer this year, because my employer’s benefits would not have
made this process very cost-effective.
Thanks to my friend Hannah, who made me a wonderful balm, my
incision is healing nicely. Do me a favor, though—don’t make comments about it
the first thing you say when you see me. Truthfully, I’m pretty self-conscious
about it. You’d understand if your throat got slashed. I’m grateful for my friend Amy, who has made
me get out and try new things; she took me to see Fall Out Boy and Panic! At
the Disco at Riverport (Hollywood Casino Amphitheater) last week, and although
I’m tired, it was so much fun. I feel like I knocked a few things off of my
bucket list (that’s not a cancer reference; I firmly believe everyone should
have a bucket list, and I need to make mine. And yes, THE BEACH is on it.).
So, there’s the update. Oh—everything tastes like burnt
metal. That’s no fun. You think I’d just stop eating, and be skinny, right? Of
course not, LOL. Someone gave me the tip to rinse with Orajel and water, which
I have to try. Water, which I know I need the most, tastes THE WORST, so I’m
thinking of developing a lemonade habit. That still tastes okay. I
finally drug my butt back into church yesterday, for a very self-conscious but
pleasant visit. It was nice to be back, and nice to be in that environment
again. JD is potty-training like a rock
star, and I’m hoping we’re done with it by the end of the summer, in spite of
the hectic disruption of our summer-with-no-vacation (I just can’t get past it.
BEACHBEACHBEACHOCEANBEACH!!!!!!!!!) And
there you have it. Every day seems a little more “normal,” and I’m excited by
being able to make it through the grocery store without falling over. I feel
like this has been more of a hill than a mountain, in the grand scheme of
things, and my hope is that we don’t have to go through this again. Time will
tell. Until then, and even then, it’s all in God’s hands. Good thing, because I
have no idea what the heck I’m doing.
