On the 12th Day of Cancer, My Doctor Gave to Me...

... remission!

Seriously, twelve days and the Cancerpocalypse is over. The whole thing was blessedly quick. Here's the full timeline:
July 26: Dr. P notices the nodules have grown
August 1: ultrasound (normal) and blood work (normal)
August 14-15: radioactive iodine reuptake scan (normal)
August 23: biopsy (normal)
September 11: meet with Dr. B, decide to have right lobe of thyroid removed before any of the growths turn into something bad
November 19: right lobe and isthmus removed
November 26: routine post-op appointment... oops, it's cancer after all <sad trombone>
November 30: left lobe and surrounding lymph nodes removed
December 7: post-op appointment... cancer free!

There are a few loose ends to tie up. The cancer was contained in one lobe (hooray!) but was still somewhat... plus-sized festively plump big (boo!). I'm in a weird gray area for recommendations as to whether I should have the I131 (radiation pill) treatment to help prevent thyroid cancer from recurring.  I'll start seeing Dr. S, the endocrinologist, who will help me make the final decision on that.

Honestly? While the I131 treatment makes it a little less likely that the thyroid cancer will come back, I don't want to do it. There's a small chance that the I131 will increase the chance of me getting a different cancer in the future. More importantly, there's a chance it will affect my sense of taste. I think it'll be hard enough opening a bakery without everything I make tasting like burnt metal to me, ya know? I can't blame Dr. B for passing this one on to the endocrinologist. I actually change my mind about what I should do every few hours.

I also still have to get my synthetic thyroid meds leveled out. It's... weird. I get tired but not in a normal way. I get tired from the inside out. And the weird inability-to-regulate-my-body-temperature thing that plagued me since the summer keeps popping back up. In related but awesome news, none of the other symptoms have shown back up since the rest of the thyroid was removed.

I'm recovering like a boss. A little swelling but nothing to worry about, it should go down in a few weeks. I can't yell or inflect my voice much, but that'll come back in a few months. Meanwhile, Dr. B was surprised by how clear my voice is already (*gold star*). I avoided hypocalcemia (I'd like to thank House for teaching me what that means) so I can scale way back on the number of pills I take a day. Way back. To like one. AND! I keep the streak alive: my SIXTH consecutive surgery without a post-op infection. SIX! That's how many months that infection kept my first c-section from closing. True story.

By the numbers:
years nodules were dormant before they decided to get ugly: 11
cm of main nodule: 3.5
cm of actual cancer inside the main nodule: 1.8
type of cancer: stage I papillary carcinoma, T2N0M0- official final answer (I still say it's T1bN0M0)
number of times my kids heard the word "cancer": 0
surgeries: 2
nights in the hospital: 2
Sprite Zeros in the hospital: 8
cranberry juices in the hospital: 9
dozens of cupcakes taken to nurses: 4
days of work missed: 6.5
days in which I experienced actual pain: 2
prescription pain pills taken: 3
hospital food eaten: none

And... scene.

Next up on the hit list: the boy's adenoids!

The future perfect tense

Today, I was in a situation where I was asked by someone what was going on with my neck, and I didn't know what to say.

a. I have thyroid cancer.

b. I had thyroid cancer.

c. I was garroted by a rabid panda.

I don't know. I had cancer. I may still have cancer. I won't know until tomorrow morning. And so I didn't know how to answer the question. After careful deliberation, I think I've found the answer: the future perfect tense.

d. I will have had cancer.

I wish I could preen and brag that I remember the future perfect tense from my rapt attention to grammar in school. Unfortunately, I only remember learning the future perfect tense from an old episode of Murphy Brown.

The whole not knowing thing is wearing on me. I understand that I am crazy lucky that thyroid cancer is super treatable. But not knowing if the cancer is gone... if I'll have to do the radiation thing... what the future side effects will be... when these side effects will wane... if my kids have inherited a predisposition for thyroid cancer... there are a lot of questions swirling around in my head right now. Add to that the fact that (apparently) I've been taking my synthetic thyroid pill wrong which leaves me exhausted and moody on top of my body trying to process the anesthesia from two surgeries in two weeks...

So when someone told me today that I should wear turtlenecks because my neck incisions look gross... and others laughed...  at first it felt like this:

Then my moodiness swung to feeling like:

Before long, I was here:

And now, I'm just:

Because after all:

My words are not as tasty as my cakes...

...or the fudge pecan brownies I just baked. But here I am, eating my words.

Remember when I said that the recovery from this surgery was easier than the recovery from the first? And how I was feeling great and nothing hurt? Apparently, those words enraged my body and the pain hit me today like a hammer-filled bag made of broken glass and scorpions.

That might be a slight overstatement. But I did take a Motrin this morning.

I finally hit that part of recovery that the doctor warned me about. It hurts to swallow and it's pretty hard to do at times. It took me half a dozen attempts to get down a bite of chicken nugget today. It's not just slightly uncomfortable anymore... it hurts. I'm also having some acid reflux issues that feel like painful, cold heartburn in the middle of my chest. And, I'm tired.

Like a boss, I timed my return to work with today's onslaught of post-operative malady. I had plans of returning to school with smiles and light-hearted banter. Instead, I found myself feeling wrung-out by mid-morning. Turns out, teaching is slightly more physically demanding than laying in my bed, watching Judge Judy.

But take heart! The 2nd first day back at work had a happy ending. Lookit my new favorite thing, Rutherford B. Hayes:

I'm named after the 19th president!

Doesn't he make you feel all tropical and lush?

Rutherford B. Hayes currently resides in cubicle A as my new favorite student.

I plan on asking him for answers when the real kids are struggling and letting him get everything right. It's also extremely convenient because the Smartboard projector makes it counterproductive to have a real kid sit in that cubicle. So now the space is not wasted. Then, when I'm outside of my restriction period and am allowed to carry heavy things, I'll bring him home to join Ulysses S. Grant.

Ulysses S. Grant will undoubtedly find the whole thing bewildering.

If you're wondering (and you probably are) where James K. Polk could be, have no fear. James K. Polk has been here for a while. I'll share a picture of him after I repaint him. It's not like I just started naming things after presidents with middle initials all willy nilly. That wouldn't make any sense. I'm going in order... and I can not wait to find Chester A. Arthur.

That's what you get for offering...

Ever since the C word entered the building, we have received a deluge of help from our family and friends. We've been spoiled with dinners, offers of help, prayers, kind words and thoughts... I'm never going to get caught up on the thank-you notes.

It's an amazing and generous thing to behold... but I feel like a poser. Thyroid cancer is like real cancer's lame little brother. It has the same last name, but just about anybody can beat it up. I mean, I have absolutely nothing to complain about. I'm tired (who isn't?) and my burps feel a little weird after all the neck surgery. That's all I got.

It seems like a shame, though, to not properly exploit  graciously accept the offers of help we have received. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't allow those close to me to go out of their way on my behalf? So here's what you can do to help (and I have cancer so you have to do it):

December 14th is the 3rd annual Wear Star Wars/ Share Star Wars Day. I want everybody I know to try to participate. Wait. Not try. Do or do not.

It's very simple. On Friday, December 14th, wear something Star Wars or anything else you're geeky for. Dr. Who, Star Trek, Abraham Lincoln, Dr. Horrible, Auburn, Gummi Bears... whatever charges your phaser.

*Editor's note* By "wear something Star Wars", I don't mean full on, 501st cosplay. It just means maybe you wear a geeky t-shirt or lapel pin. A fabulous accessory or perhaps a hat. Though you would totally get bonus points for wearing full Storm Trooper armor.

Then, buy a geeky toy (may I recommend the new line of Star Wars Angry Birds games?) and donate it to the toy drive of your choice. Or get it to me and I'll drive it to a donation site for you. But here's the catch: you have to put a sticky note on the toy specifying that it can go to a boy or a girl. Otherwise, all the Star Wars and other sci fi stuff will be automatically sorted to the "Boy" pile. And that's a shame.

By now, you may be wondering where this whole thing comes from. It was all over the news a few years ago, but you may not have noticed or you may have forgotten. Here, in words far better than I could use, is the original story of Star Wars Katie. You know that I will get all kinds of supportive for blonde haired, glasses-wearing, adopted girls named Katie. After Katie's mom posted that blog post, the geek world went off. I've never seen anything like it. Calls, messages, and gifts poured in to Katie, all bearing the message, "It's OK for girls to like Star Wars." The geek community rallied to protect one of our own... and it was beautiful. From that, Katie's mom started the Wear Star Wars/ Share Star Wars tradition so that something positive could continue from that experience. Now, I'm inviting you to join in... even if you don't know who Wil Wheaton is.

p.s. This movement can go both ways. It would be equally as awesome to donate a "girl" toy with a sticky note specifying that it can go to a boy or a girl. Apparently, some people figure this out earlier in life than others.

And spread the word, would ya?

PSA: Check Your Neck

I've gotten a few messages from people who want to know more about my symptoms and diagnosis. I'm not a doctor and I'm not an expert. I know that thyroid nodules are super common in women and are very rarely cancer. I'm just special, I guess. So y'all stop freaking out.

Here is a great place to start looking for information if you're really interested:

http://www.thyroid.org/faq-thyroid-nodules/

Now, the symptoms that brought me to the thyroid cancer diagnosis are my own. By that, I mean that the things that were strange to me might be normal to you. And my normal might (might?) be strange to you. I had some pretty weird symptoms... the strangest was probably the inability to regulate my body temperature. I would be in my freezing, meat locker classroom and be completely comfortable in a sleeveless shirt. No goosebumps, no shivering. All the kids were hunched in their seats wearing jackets and I was completely toasty without sleeves. And then, that same night, I would be in a tub full of the hottest water I could run. My skin would turn bright red and feel tight from the hot water- but I would still feel freezing.

There were other things, of course. But they're only meaningful in that those symptoms were deviations from my norm. Something felt wrong. When my doctor noticed that the old thyroid nodules felt bigger, we got them checked out. I was sure it was cancer (or Graves' Disease). I was absolutely certain (and hopeful) that they would run tests and come back with a name for what was messing with me. But one test after another came back clear. Blood work, ultrasound, radioactive thyroid reuptake, needle biopsy: all negative. And one after another, those results blew my mind. I started wondering if there was something really mentally wrong with me (beyond my usual irreverent quirkiness). The needle biopsy was the worst. The doctor had already ruled out Graves', so I was ready for the cancer diagnosis. When that test came back negative, I think I was more mad than anything. If it wasn't cancer, then what was it?

It is true that all my symptoms could have had other causes. I'm not 25 anymore... things are bound to start falling apart these days. I've been pregnant three times and had two children (this will always be my least favorite math problem). I've had that whole gall bladder sickness and then the elective breast reduction just a few weeks after- both of these surgeries in the last year. That's bound to mess with my hormones, right? Not to mention, I'm the poster child for weird medical situations. If I had a nickel for every time a doctor has told me, "I've never seen that before. I'm sure it's fine,"...

It would have been easy for me or my doctors to write off my symptoms as just the aging process of a whackadoo. I am very, very fortunate that we didn't all write it off at the same time. At least one of us was always pushing for one more check. I got lucky. We found the cause of my symptoms.

It's worth noticing that I'm still recognizing what some of my symptoms were. I didn't realize how lethargic or how scatterbrained I'd become. Now that the whole broken thyroid is out and I'm on the synthetic thyroid supplement, I'm realizing how off I really was. Not that it was all bad... some of those harebrained schemes were pretty fun...

All that to say... thyroid cancer detection can be a little tricky. Check your neck. Get your doctor to check your neck. It takes all of four seconds. And listen to your gut. If you think something needs to be checked out, check it out.

A Little R&R...

In the zoo world, R&R stands for regurgitation and reingestion. That's an abnormal behavior you see in captive great apes, particularly gorillas where they... well, like the name says. I used to have to collect data on R&R. Ah, the glamorous world of animal behavior.

I'm trying to tell myself that I'm not a slacker for taking today and tomorrow off of work. Overall, I feel fine, and it's like I'm playing hooky. Like a snow day without snow. I keep reminding myself that my body is processing all the meds and anesthesia that I've had over the last two weeks- hence the random nap attacks that knock me out from time to time. And my neck has open drains in it this time... the draining should slow down by Wednesday, but it would be awkward to try to teach with the wound as open as it is today. And, there are the red spots from my tape allergy.

I look tired.

I'm trying to get out of the house as much as I can. I went shopping yesterday for Advent calendars and eggs. Again, the glamour!

Status (so I don't forget in case I need to know later): still not taking any pain meds. That leaves me with 10 pills a day (antibiotics, calcium, and synthetic thyroid). Doss got me this pill-minder to help me keep up with what I'm taking and when.

I think this is romantic.

No pain, but it is uncomfortable to yawn. Swallowing is also uncomfortable- there's a permanent lump in my throat like after you cry really hard. Not really permanent though- the good doctor promises it'll fade away soon.

I'll find out Friday morning if the cancer had spread to the left lobe or lymph nodes. Until then, it seems my biggest worry is the cold sore threatening to appear under my nose and my compulsive picking of the Dermabond on my neck. And really, if those are my biggest concerns, I'm a lucky, lucky girl... who needs to paint her nails.

Thyroid surgery, take two!

Hands down, the worst part of this surgery is the fact that I had to cancel a really big cake order for this weekend. In fact, right at this moment, that function is happening without cakes made by me. And that is just beyond unfortunate.

The cancer part sucks, too.

On the bright side, this surgery was way easier than last week's. I'm not sure why that is. It was supposed to be way rougher on me. Operating on a neck that had not yet healed was supposed to be really painful and miserable. But nope. For whatever reason, this one hurts much less than last week's. No nausea from anesthesia like last week, and I was much more energetic after this one- awake earlier, hungrier, more likely to roam the hallways of the hospital in the wee hours. I've taken no pain meds since a few hours after the surgery. And my nurse even let me leave the floor and wander the gift shop this morning. I've got my voice back (almost) already and it doesn't hurt to swallow like I thought it would. 

The incision looks about the same: 

I still love that shower curtain.

probably because he just cut along the dotted line. 

And I did manage to make a little cake yesterday before I went to the hospital:

War Cake Eagle!

only because it was small and quick and easy. And because I didn't hear back from the orderer when I tried to cancel it, so I panicked and went ahead and made it early so the baby wouldn't be stuck without a birthday cake.

I also threw down some lemon cupcakes for my nurses. As you might expect, I was asked for way more business cards after the lemon cupcakes than I was last week after the chocolate-peanut butter. 

Final count for this one:

Sprite Zeros: only 2

cranberry juices: 9 (yep)

packs of graham crackers: 3

packs of Captains Wafers: 5

Good times. But sheesh, this HAS TO be the last surgery of 2012, right?