Been a Long Time, Stranger...

The thought occurred to me last night that it has been a while since I've been writing on here.  When I looked at the blog, I realized just how long (and I think I cried a little). Why has it taken me so long, and why have I had a hard time thinking about what to write?  Get ready, you are about to read a flood of thoughts...

As you probably read, I had thyroid cancer in the spring, and treatment in May. I was home for a week-and-a-half, then went on to teach summer school.  By the time July rolled around, I was TIRED. Seems the idea of working full-time through the surgery, withdrawal of meds, and even with the treatment was catching up to me. I just wanted  a break, so this was a logical time to schedule for both kids to have their tonsils out.

Yes, BOTH kids, on the SAME morning. When I scheduled the appointment, I wasn't aware that my mother would be traveling with my father to China during that time, or I would have rethought my strategy.  Needless to say, those few days post-surgery were ROUGH on all of us. I was thrilled when they finally started feeling better.  By then, it was time for school to begin.

I started teaching elementary special education in Coffee County schools. I was the Math Resource teacher, and I was enjoying working with younger students again. I missed the enthusiasm and love that occurs in an elementary setting. I enjoy being greeted each morning with a dozen or more hugs.  My heart was happy!

The day I returned back to work from Fall Break, I stepped in a dip in a store parking lot. It wasn't enough to cause anyone else harm, but I heard a loud crack. It hurt a little, but not enough to make me miserable (or so I thought). So, I walked on it and did all of my work duties for a few days. By Wednesday, I was MISERABLE. The doctor talked to me and looked at the x-ray. He smirked and said "well, I imagine it WOULD hurt- it's broken!"  He wasn't sure what other damage occurred in my leg, so he wanted scans. I'm going to make a long story short for you: I ended up with surgery a week later, and have been out of work going through rehab and dealing with discomfort. I ended up with an ACL reconstruction, and they cleaned up a lot of other damage in my knee. The good news is when all of this healing is finally complete, I'll have a fantastic new knee. But for right now, it's been a struggle.

For people that know me, you can imagine how hard it is for me to be stuck at home most of the time. I am a people person, and like talking to even strangers I meet. The greatest challenge of all of this has been in making sure I get out and communicate with people, even if it's for short stretches of time. I don't want to cut myself off from the world just because I am uncomfortable. That's the recipe for a disaster.

That brings me up to mid-December, and I can say with 100% certainty that I am THRILLED for 2013 to be almost over! I am convinced that next year will be much better, and I will be able to move forward with many different endeavors. My leg will be further along healing, I got news from a scan a few weeks ago that I am cancer-free, and I've had some time to put a few life issues in perspective. I do want to comment on this project (the purpose of this new blog), but I'll save it for the next post.

Almost Three Weeks

I guess I wrote the title out of exasperation...

It's been almost three weeks since my surgery, and since my life has been turned upside-down.  I was told it would be 7-14 days before I felt like returning to work, but that was before they uncovered the cancer diagnosis, and started me on all this other plan.

From the surgery, I can say that my scar has healed VERY nicely! This picture was taken this past Sunday, which was 17 days post-surgery.

Calcium Update: It seems that my body just doesn't want to get normal with the calcium! I have had the hardest time regulating it. We've had it go up, then shoot back down twice. That was even while I was INCREASING the amount of calcium supplements. I hope I have some relief soon- the twitching and muscle cramps are wearing me out.

The thyroid hormones were stopped yesterday, and I am really hoping that the yucky feeling I was having today wasn't my hormones already giving me trouble. I was supposed to get at least a few days of calm before the storm. I try to relax and realize that everyone is different, but the general consensus is that this will be a ROUGH period. I will be extremely tired, I will have muscle and body aches, I will be foggy and forgetful, and I will probably be moody. I hate it, because I know that I don't deserve to be tired and miserable, and the people around me don't deserve to hear me gripe. In a perfect world, I would be able to disappear for part of the time to stay out of people's hair. In the next few weeks, if you encounter me, consider giving me a hug or doing something nice like that. Chances are, I'll need it.

Work: I love my job, and I usually like the end of the year. This is the chance to do some fun things with the kids, and work on things for next year. I feel bad that the students won't get me at my best. I am grateful that I will be there to see everything at the end of the year, but I also feel bad that their last days of seeing me will be when I feel like death. I will try my best to keep a perky demeanor with them. We will see how that works...

I guess over the past few days, I have tried my best not to really think about things. It's been tiring to deal with everything, and I permitted myself a break from it all. In fact, while I was riding in the car with Robin to a dinner, I finally started talking about this whole ordeal again. I don't want to rehash things every day, but it does take time to process. I was grateful to her for talking with me--there are moments that hit me when I least expect it. I am hoping this feeling is normal. During these times, I feel this sudden dread that all of this stuff is happening whether I like it or not, and I feel absolutely and utterly helpless. There are no other words to describe the feeling that I am racing toward a wall, and there's no way to put on the brakes.  I know in the end it all works out, but I also don't know what "works out" means in this situation. 

I think I had mentioned this before, but I had the kids' photos made for their "birthday" time of year. We had my niece and nephew in town, and it was a good chance to get photos of all of them together. This was about two weeks before the surgery.  The sad thing is in the madness of getting four children to look at the camera, I missed the opportunity to get a photo of just me and the kids. I remember coming home from the hospital, a few days after the surgery and everything, and sobbing in the shower. I came to the realization that I missed having a photo with the kids--a photo now will have my scar. And then I also had a brief flirtation with the idea of "what if something happened to me, and the kids didn't have a good picture with me?"  That's not a great thought to have in the shower. Or ever.

Here's a shot of my beautiful children (taken by their Aunt Jessi):




So, in the next few weeks, I am going to try to get some good photos of me with the kids. Though I missed the opportunity to get GOOD photos of me and the kids, I can get a bunch of snapshots to fill that void. 

And now, because my body cannot keep up any longer, I am going to bed EARLY.  I will update more tomorrow, once I find out what's happening with my calcium levels. Wish me luck!

I Finally Write...

     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. :-)