It's seems like I've been in a fog the past few days. Honestly, I just turned on my computer and went back to work today... The past week seems like it happened in slow-motion, then rewind, then slowwww again. Here's the best I can remember:
On Thursday morning, I woke up and seemed ready to get this surgery over with! We dropped the kids off to school, and I drove us to the hospital to check in. I didn't have to be to the hospital until 10am, which meant surgery wasn't starting until later. We seemed pretty relaxed the entire time, and I was just ready to put all of this behind me. I knew I would have a few days of discomfort, then I would be back to my old crazy self--encountering new adventures and telling stories to my friends.
I remember coming out of surgery feeling a little strange. I wasn't sure how long I'd been in there, and I vaguely remember falling asleep. Usually, it's a pretty relaxed experience (and it's sad it's happened so many times for me!). The strange thing about this time is they strapped an oxygen mask to my face, and I remember having a panicky feeling, thinking "something is NOT right!" Then I was out... So, coming out of surgery, I expected to feel miserable. Quite the contrary--I felt very chatty, and seemed to tell the nurse my entire life story. She was incredibly empathetic, and listened to all my jabbering. Actually, I seemed coherent, and it was the last case before she could go home, so she might have actually enjoyed herself. I was given a little extra pain medicine, she wished me well, and deposited me at my room for the night.
I was supposed to stay overnight to make sure my body could regulate calcium. Sometimes the parathyroid glands get damaged during surgery, and the calcium levels go haywire. This can cause all sorts of problems with muscles and the heart, and they watch to make sure nothing happens.
Well, the next morning it seemed like I was only going on a few hours of sleep. I figured the doctor would come by to discharge me, and then I could go home and sleep for the next few days. Then I would be back to work, and life would be back to NORMAL. The food services lady brought my breakfast tray, and I began eating. Shortly after eating my pancake, the doctor walked in.
He was a normally-chipper man, and he looked like he was making a real effort to be happy. I figured he was mad he had to come to the hospital (I was his only hospital case that day), or something else was happening. He asked me about symptoms, and checked my incision. It was when I asked about what he saw... I don't think for as long as I live I will forget the look on his face.
He backed up a few steps, and immediately started to fidget with my hospital blanket. I remember feeling an almost out-of-body experience as I watched him and wondered how many times he had to tell people bad things. I was trying to absorb what he was saying, and also think about what on earth he was saying, and why he was being fidgety all at the same time. I have to wonder what my face looked like at that moment. It must not have looked good, because for a moment he looked like he might cry.
He quickly told me I had two children already, so I'd probably want to opt for the radioactive iodine. That made me snap out of it. What was he talking about? I guess I hadn't fully digested the fact that the thyroid was out, let alone that I had cancer, or that I would be arranging treatment. I had to be honest, I really didn't know much about cancer, outside of the bits I read when people become diagnosed. I know things are so specific to different types, and it's not like I troll around morbid sites looking for cancer research. So, honestly, I had no idea what he was talking about. I could tell he understood that facial expression, because he paused, and said we could talk about all this once the pathology lab came back from the other half of the thyroid (I was diagnosed based on a 4cm papillary mass visually found on the left side- results are still out on the rest).
He then walked up to me and started tapping my face. My eyes started shuttering violently, and I realized I wasn't feeling well. He got quite an alarmed look on his face, while telling me that my calcium levels were dipping. This was causing the leg pains and restlessness (that I thought was anesthesia wearing off), and the scary actions of my muscles. He asked me if my face was numb- a bit, but I couldn't tell if that was my regular Topamax.
The staff jumped to action, starting me on calcium supplements via IV and orally. I didn't have much of an appetite, but I was trying to consume anything that had calcium. I was also taking Calciotrol, which is supposed to aid in the absorption of calcium. We were doing everything we could from keeping the numbers down. I desperately wanted out of the hospital- I hadn't seen the kids in a while, I had received a diagnosis of cancer, and I was now feeling anxious and miserable. From Friday to Saturday, those were NOT good hours in my life.
On Saturday, the push was to get the calcium stable so I could get out of the hospital. Thankfully, at the 3pm draw, I was stable, and we were able to leave!! We packed up quickly, and headed home as soon as possible. I had become so fixated on dealing with the calcium issues, I didn't have to think about much else. Until I got home...
Then I started having a few moments of calm. Moments of quiet are dangerous, because I think. And when I think, I think too much... Well, over the past two days, it seems like all I've done is gone through a fog. Every time I try to think, my brain shuts me down- I end up in a trance-like state. I think this is to protect myself from worrying about things that might never happen. I also think for the first few days, I had to get all the calcium normal before I could deal with life. Today was the first day that fog lifted, and I could start dealing.
Today I went to get my calcium levels checked again, and I have to travel to the hospital again on Wednesday afternoon to get them checked. This is unfortunate, because on top of recovering, I have to balance. I also return to work tomorrow (I am out of sick days!), so I don't have a choice but to embrace this hectic lifestyle. I am wondering if this will keep me from thinking about all sorts of yucky thoughts.
Today I was sitting in the hospital, waiting for my blood to be drawn. Montel Williams was on the Rachael Ray show, and he was talking about how he survives with multiple sclerosis. They had just shown a picture of him snowboarding, so my ears perked up when I thought about what words of wisdom he might have for me.
He said to get out there, to read EVERYTHING I could, and be the best advocate for myself that I could. I need to get an idea of all the options that are out there, of all the treatments, all the outcomes, and all the paths of life I might take. This will let me deal with everything, and will let me be active in my care.
The bald man makes a lot of sense... But that means I will have to finally sit still, think for a little bit, write down my long list of questions for my doctors, and research all I can. I want to make sure I make decisions that will give me the best outcome, and leave me here to ponder life for many years to come. That means doing some homework now. And thinking a little extra about all of this--I will have to lift my own fog.
I remember on Friday, looking across the room at my journal. I remember just getting the diagnosis of cancer, and remembering that for a person that writes about everything, that I should really write about how I felt at that moment. I was worried it would go away. I got up, made my way across the room to get the journal, and by the time I got back to my bed with a pen, I fell asleep. Un-thankfully, the memory of hearing those words never leaves, and I don't feel like I missed my moment. I am not saying I am having a pity party or have lost hope from the beginning- just saying it is an experience I will never forget. So thankfully, I didn't miss the moment of putting pen to paper. :-)
And in the coming days, I will be focusing on recovering slowly, being present in the moment, and trying not to take myself too seriously. And researching to become my best advocate for Friday. :-)
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