If you’re wondering about the title…if you missed the joke,
and just think I’ve lost my mind…rest assured: You’re probably right.
But seriously, I have a deep, deep love of classic
VeggieTales. That line comes from the “Dance of the Cucumber” song, and is
actually sung first in Spanish; it sounds even funnier in a foreign language.
All that aside, I’m actually just writing this as a “quick”
update on the whole cancer thing. You know, even though thyroid cancer is the “good”
cancer, there’s a surprising amount of stress that comes with that word being a
part of your life. There’s really nothing that prepares you for it, at any
time, at any age. It’s just a shock to the system that takes some time to
acclimate to. You find yourself being very quickly swept into the vernacular of
cancer…into the relentless questions and internet searches, into multiple
doctors’ appointments (even for “good” cancer), and into the belief that this
word is hanging over your head like the proverbial Sword of Damacles. It’s like
a little (in my case), dark cloud that smacks you in the head with a stinging
raindrop on a day that you’ve spent an hour fixing your hair. It’s an obnoxious
pest that isn’t going away any time soon…After all, it will linger on in
medical records for your entire life span. You’ll never be able to leave that
box unchecked again.
Now, I’m quick to differentiate my case—the “good” cancer—because
I’m not really allowed to be a basketcase/whinebag in the grand scheme of things. I have a friend
who’s sister-in-law (a single mom with two kids and no child support) who’s
dealing with 3 different kinds of cancer at once. She has like, 75 radiation
treatments (to my one) and chemo (to my none); she isn’t able to work; and the
doctors are giving scary prognoses that I don’t even want to put into writing.
She has a lot of potential, but she needs a miracle. She’s too sick to work,
her hair has fallen out, and she’s still looking at surgery after all of that.
THAT is the “bad” cancer.
The “good” cancer scares the crap out of you and
inconveniences your life. It doesn’t kill you, and it really (after the initial
shock) has little-to-no chance of killing you down the road (if you’re a good
girl and regularly do your labs and take your medicine). It changes your life,
sure…but not like what my friend is going through. Please understand that when
I do complain, I have that in the back of my mind: I am so lucky. I don’t know
why I’m so lucky, but I’m grateful.
That being said, I have my own issues. They’re doable, just
annoying. My case is a bit odd; in fact, my PCP is sending me for a second
opinion, because my treatment thus far is pretty laid back (which appears to be
the standard? Who knows?). We knew at surgery that there was a good chance they
didn’t get all of the cancer out. One month post-surgery, I did my one-shot
radiation treatment; it’s a pill. Just a simple, little pill that contains
enough radiation to stay in your body for MONTHS…it’s bizarre, that such a
thing exists. My post-radiation body scan confirmed that nope, they didn’t get
all of the cancer; cancer cells were spotted in the lymph nodes of my neck and
chest. My initial fear was “oh, crap—more surgery? More radiation?” Nope. According to my current radiation
oncologist, the little radioactive pill I took contained enough radiation to
slowly-but-surely kill those cells off over the course of the next few months.
I have labs every 6 weeks (for the next 2 years, I believe) to make sure my TSH
and my Thyroid Globulin levels drop; those levels will let my endocrinologist
and oncologist know that the cancer isn’t staging a comeback tour.
Now that the cancer is “dealt” with, the next-and-biggest
issue is the fact that I don’t have a thyroid. This is a much bigger problem
than I ever knew. Dude, your thyroid is IMPORTANT. Take care of it!!!!!!!! Dr. Oz says that 2 Brazil nuts/day contain
enough Selenium to support proper thyroid function. Yeah—do that. Your body will thank you. I’m on a medication
that I just found out is causing my hair to fall out—MY HAIR. If you know me,
you know my hair. My hair is its own entity. I love my hair—it’s a great, big,
giant curly mess that took me years to learn to control, and it’s just a big
part of my ever-shrinking self-esteem (this is not a pity party. This is just a
statement. It’s a struggle). Having handfuls of my hair fall out every day has
taught me that first of all, I have a LOT of hair. Secondly, it’s a daily reminder
that it could be SO MUCH WORSE. It’s another of those things that’s seriously
annoying, but nowhere near as bad as other people have it. It was a bit of a
shock, when it first started happening (2 weeks ago); I knew it wasn’t from the
radiation. I assumed it was from not having a thyroid anymore. Yesterday, I
found out that it’s from the medication (T4) I’ve been on (that just got
increased); I’m going to have to stay on it a little while longer, but my
doctor is putting me on something else that combines T3 and T4, which should
stop (and hopefully, reverse) the hair loss. I still think I need to cut it,
but I will be so thankful when it stops!!!!
I want this to be over. I want to be done with it, and I
never want to hear that word, again. I’m sure anyone else who’s had cancer can
relate (regardless of whether or not it’s a “good” or a “bad” cancer). I know
people who are dealing with daily radiation, daily labs, daily “inconveniences,”
and I am amazed by their strength and courage. I’m a giant pansy—this has
taught me that. I have a lot to learn. I feel so guilty for the complaints that
I’ve made, but I also don’t want to pretend that certain complaints aren’t
valid. It’s a weird, uncomfortable, strange path to be on, and it’s very
isolating. Family and friends are supportive, but this type of cancer is so odd
that you feel like you’re on this island where nobody “gets” you. “Regular” cancer
patients think you’re a wuss, but really, the sheer removal of the thyroid is
insanely debilitating. Getting the medications regulated isn’t easy (I’m
finding that out), and the side effects are widespread. Sure, this is the “good”
cancer…but it seems to me that it’s a “bad” organ to have removed. I may look
like I’m fine (minus the thinning hair) but the reality is that I’ve got a ways
to go. That takes some getting used to, especially for the people closest to me
that have had to pick up more slack than usual for some time now.
I am most definitely feeling better. My voice is coming back
(although an upper respiratory infection has me sounding nasty right now), and
my energy levels are picking up. I think I’m emotionally in a better place than
I’ve been in for a while, and I feel like I’m coming back around. Frankly, I’m
glad to see the end of this summer; although I’ve had a lot of fun with my
little guy and my family, it’s been a roller coaster for all of us, I think.
I think I’m hoping for some smooth sailing…at least, for a
bit…
Smooth….like butter on a bald monkey.:)
