August 15, 2009


So I now have six long weeks to think about my surgery. To fret, freak out and be a complete and utter you-know-what to my husband. Because he is the one that gets the brunt of my fear and anger. I try to apologize at every chance for my behavior. There's no excuse. My friends tell me it's understandable. But really, I'm not a nice person for this time. And he doesn't deserve that. Not at all.

It turns out that postponing surgery does not make it better. In fact, it gives your daymares (or at least that's what I'm calling them). For the three weeks leading up to my surgery I go from worry to obsession to panic. I am consumed with fear about what will happen. After two long weeks of awful behavior on my part, I finally explain to my husband what has been happening. I start with another apology and then say, "Every day for the past two weeks, a thousand times a day, I die on the operating table during my surgery. And the one or two times a day that I don't die, I have cancer."

I explain that these are my daydreams, nightmares throughout the day - daymares. I tell him that it doesn't end when I go to sleep - all night long, I play these over and over in my head. I am more exhausted than before. He does what he has done a hundred times since we were at the doctor's office. He pulls me close, gives me a hug, and tells me that everything will be okay. And I want to believe him. But part of me feels that something isn't right. I ask for him to keep telling me this everyday. Because until it's over and we have the test results, I won't believe it. But I will try...

It's been a while...

And I've missed you...

Things have been all sorts of crazy over here. So let's start at the beginning. I will be posting several times over the next couple days so I don't end up with another ridiculously long post.

Let's start with the rest of the doctor issues...

I received a call at work with the results of the biopsy the Tuesday after my appointment. The nurse says "The results of your biopsy are back. You have a thyroid tumor. Cancer can't be determined." I was told I would need to make a follow up appointment to talk to the doctor to figure out our next steps. I scheduled the next available appointment - Thursday. I have tried to stay positive up to this point. I have believed that everything was going to be okay. And instead, I am dumbfounded by this news. This was not supposed to happen. I was not prepared for this...

I call my husband. Repeat those three sentences and burst into tears. He tells me we will get this figured out and everything will be okay. We have nothing to worry about until we talk to the doctor and he tells us to worry. I say okay and tell him we will talk tonight. All I want to do is be with him and that's not an option for the next few hours.

I text a friend in another part of the building and ask her to meet me in the lobby. We walk around the office parking lot and I cry. I make vain comments about my neck being the only thing that didn't get fat on me while I was pregnant. I talk about the possibility of surgery and cancer and what will happen with my husband and Sweet Pea. My friend calms me down and we walk back into work. Thankfully, I am about 30 minutes from my scheduled time to leave so I wrap up my work and fly out the door at 4.

At the doctor's office on Thursday, he recommends surgery. And he recommends it sooner rather than later due to the size of the tumors. I have a list of questions and the doctor answers them one by one making sure we understand everything. I have my husband with me because I have been known to leave the doctor's office with no recollection of what was said. And because he wouldn't have been anywhere else but by my side. He's good like that.

I'm sure I'm smiling like an idiot throughout this appointment. In fact, the doctor mentions that I seem awfully calm about this recommendation of surgery. My husband said we thought this might be what you recommended. I nod along like an absent minded fool while in my head I'm screaming - THIS IS MY WORST CASE SCENARIO! YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT SLICING OPEN MY THROAT! I'M NOT OKAY WITH THIS! I'M NOT OKAY!!!

The appointment wraps up and I schedule the surgery for Thursday, August 13th - approximately 6 weeks later, because I'm not ready for this. I'm not okay. I'm scared.


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