The Blight

Last Friday afternoon, I got a phone call from Amy, my surgeon's assistant, with the results of the biopsy.  The conversation only lasted a few minutes, and I really only heard one word: cancer.

I spent the rest of that afternoon in a sort of fugue state.  My mind sort of went all blank and fuzzy; it wasn't entirely unpleasant, to tell you the truth.  Amy had assured me that the doctor got all of the cancer when he removed the left lobe of the thyroid and that I shouldn't worry.  Uh huh.  Thanks, Amy.  I had so many questions, but I knew I had to wait until my follow-up appointment on Thursday to get answers from my doctor.  I didn't think about it too much the rest of the weekend because we were busy and I didn't see the point in worrying.  After all, the cancer was gone, and considering I didn't find out about it until after the fact, there was no point in getting all worked up about it.

That worked pretty well until today.  My surgeon called this afternoon, and as soon as I heard him identify himself, I knew something was up.  My appointment with him was in less than 48 hours: why call me now?  He said that the pathology report showed signs of capsular invasion, and he said the other lobe of my thyroid needs to come out.  Soon.  The good news is that there is no sign of the cancer in my lymph nodes, so hopefully the removal of the rest of the thyroid will make certain that never happens.

The woozy feeling returned; again, it wasn't a bad feeling.  There may have been a teeny bit of denial thrown in for good measure.  As I made the kids dinner, I thought, "Huh.  I have cancer."  Although I know it's real, it doesn't seem real quite yet.  In fact, it seems downright surreal that in a couple of weeks, I'll go back to the same hospital to have the same incision opened and wake up in the same recovery room.  As much as I don't want to go through it all again, I know that I don't have a choice.  I need to get this out of my body and start healing.

The doctor wanted to do the surgery next week, but he agreed to wait two weeks so I could go on a planned trip out of town.  I made sure that waiting won't jeopardize my health in any way, and I'll reconfirm that on Thursday.  I need this trip, though.  I'm going to visit my BFF in Colorado for a few days of fun, visiting with friends, Chinese food, trashy TV, shopping, more Chinese food, a stay at the famed Stanley Hotel, and a lot of laughing.

The Stanley Hotel where Stephen King got the inspiration to write _The Shining_.  Squeeeee!!!

I'm really not too freaked out, all in all.  I have faith that everything is going to turn out just fine.  And I can't let this consume me, my family, and my life.  Plus, my badass scar will be even more badass the second time around.  I didn't think I could get much cooler than I already am, but apparently, I can.  And I will.