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!
Well, it has been the better part of a week before I posted. I have actually attempted to make this post two different times, but never completed it.
On Friday, I visited the doctor and learned that he removed the one cancerous tumor. He said my chances of survival were pretty good, and I will be getting radioactive iodine treatment. He was pretty casual about it, but I made it to the hospital before the nurse called me. My calcium levels were still low, so I was getting my blood drawn AGAIN. I hated that the people at the hospital now knew me by name...
I was told that the endocrinologist wanted to see me Monday morning. They wanted me in QUICKLY. I agreed (because I didn't have a choice), got my blood drawn and headed back to work. I started feeling progressively worse as the day went on, and at about 2pm the nurse called to tell me that my calcium levels were as low as when I had problems in the hospital. I could tell something was up, because my muscles were twitching, I had terrible cramps in my legs, and my face was shuddering. They adjusted my supplementation again, and I went home to rest.
I will say I barely made it home. I felt absolutely miserable. I don't remember much of the night, other than talking to a friend for a long time. He did a good job of distracting me from my discomfort. I called the doctor, and he told me to take more meds. I went to bed finally, hoping everything would sort itself out.
The weekend was easy-going. On Saturday, we had a tea party for Carly's guest (a friend from school). By Sunday, I didn't leave bed except to make a cake in the morning. I was absolutely drained, and there was barely enough energy to eat. If I could have operated from bed, I would have been happier. I was a bit worried about how the week would go if I felt this bad on the weekend!
Monday came around, and I had to move the appt because of a work meeting. I arrived in the afternoon, to find that there was definitely cause to remove the thyroid. There were multiple nodules that looked strange, and the cancerous mass. I knew I did the right thing, but it helped to have more people back me up. They told me my schedule for the radioactive iodine, and went over how the withdrawal of thyroid hormones would work.
I told the doctor that I had gone through hypothyroidism before, and I knew what it was like. She laughed... HARD. She told me she saw and heard about my symptoms, but that my levels were never significantly below the appropriate level. In short: she told me this was going to be BAD. She said I had a great outlook, but to prepare myself for the worst. I was going to have ZERO energy, muscle pain, hair issues, my voice might get weird, and I will be moody. Very, very moody.
I took notes, and headed home. Well, actually I headed BACK to the hospital to give them MORE blood, then headed home. As I walked into the hospital, I saw on the news that there had just been a bombing at the Boston Marathon. I remember looking at the news, and wondering if this was a sign of some sort. It seems like there's always something, and it saddens me to think that there's so many people that don't value how precious life is.
I got home and intended to write about the experiences. I had been trying to write for the past few days. I guess my body finally became less vigilant, and was finally able to rest. I also tried desperately at work to get a lot done, because I knew once the medication withdrawal started, it was going to be a rough road. It would be better to get everything done, then I could sit back and enjoy the end of the year.
I'd like to say it's been easy the past few days, since I am recovering nicely. In reality, I barely get home from work, and am in miserable pain. I make it home wincing in pain to get through the doors of the house, and it's a battle to get everything done for the evening. I am just praying for Friday to get here QUICKLY.
Last night, before I fell asleep, I was thinking about the future. I thought about plans to get me through the summer, plans of what would ideally happen in the next year, and even where I wanted to be in the next ten years (the purpose of this blog). I also realize that I am a fantastic planner, and wanted to have plans around for things "just in case." I guess the fact that I can even write about all of this without crying tells me I have a certain level of detachment that is necessary to cope with all of this mess. I am definitely not saying things will go bad--I just realize that the POSSIBILITY is out there.
I also thought about my friend Scarlett, and how she told me this is one more thing I will conquer. I thought about all of the stuff I've been through- attack, TBI and long recovery (wheelchair to walking and running), abusive relationship and getting OUT, raising two kids on my own while working and trying to normalize their life, even surviving an attack in college. Suffice it to say, if I come to it, I will go through it. I guess cancer would inevitably make its way onto that list. Gee, when I look at the list, I can see why I intimidate men. ;-)
I'm not as verbose today as I was last week (can you imagine? this is short for me!). Tonight, I have a lot of thoughts swirling in my head. I know that I need to sort through these before I can write, but I also wanted to let you know where things stand.
I have yet to tell my friend Jere about this situation. I am usually quick to tell him about everything. I just don't want him to worry, because he is an oncologist. He has dealt with great success stories, and he's had terrible stories to tell. I have always wanted to be one of the good stories he tells. :-)
Alex lost his first tooth last night. I was so excited, because he has been looking forward to this milestone for weeks now. I felt a twinge of anxiety, because I saw how important it was to see this milestone. I had already been fully aware of these special moments, because I wondered how some people would choose to miss them! I realized that now he's losing a tooth, and won't be my baby boy for much longer. He'll be graduating kindergarten, sailing through grade school, and will be graduating in 2025. It won't be long before he has his career and family. And I hoped and prayed to God, in the ten seconds it took me to think of all of this, that I would be there to get the call from my grandchild, telling me he lost his first tooth! It's moments like these when I realize that a lot of great can come of my life. I also realize it is terrible precious and fragile, and I need to enjoy it while I can.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well. -Psalm 139:14
This has been a Psalm that's been on my mind quite a bit lately. I am mystified at my life, and I know my friend Robin talks about how I can make hugging a trucker in a parking lot sound magical. I am so grateful I have that ability, and can see the amazing in the ordinary. It makes me appreciate really how much awe and amazing is created in every moment, and I am grateful for all of these experiences that have added so much to my life. Our trips around the sun are really too few, no matter how many years we get. They key to all of this is finding a rich life, and appreciating that we are fearfully and wonderfully made, no matter what our religious path. No matter what news we receive, or day we have at work. No matter what ideas are floating or pounding or swirling around in our heads. We all need these moments to center us; these moments where we lie on the driveway and stare in awe at the dark universe.
And for me, I was always the one to watch in awe. I will say there's an added glisten to all of these ordinary moments. I feel like I am seeing things differently, and really seeing how fantastic our world can be. Maybe that's the best gift I could receive right now, when terrible things happen and so many people are fearful. I know my place in this world, and my purpose as well. It is to inspire change, and to show love. If I can say I've done these two things every day, then I've served my purpose. This is really quite a feeling of contentment, and one that will ensure restful sleep tonight.
