Finally... An Update...

I realize I disappeared for over a month. I guess there was a good reason...

I didn't turn on my laptop for just about that much time. And when I don't turn on the computer, I rarely type. I even realized that I wasn't answering text messages like I normally do.

I was severely hypothyroid, in preparation for the Radioactive Iodine treatment on May 24th. I had to go off the medication for 5 weeks, which means without a thyroid, I was bottoming out.  And honestly, I don't really even remember the drive to the treatment, or part of the days afterward.

I knew I had to be away from the children for a week, because they couldn't be exposed to the radiation that was coming out of my body. So, my parents took care of the children while I hid out in the cabin.  Like I said, there are holes in my memory, because I was running on empty. What I do remember?

I remember showing up to the hospital to receive treatment, reading ten pages of forms and signing my life away, then being handed a tiny capsule to swallow. I thought to myself, "this is IT?" then I was pushed out the door to start my drive to the cabin.

Actually, my endocrinologist quoted Eddie Murphy from a movie, THEN pushed me out the door to get down the road. And he warned me not to throw up in the car or on the side of the road, because that would be a nuclear accident. Fantastic...

I slept for about 19-21 hours of the first three days. I knew I was overtired, and I was in the darkest room for sleeping. It was a good thing that I had slept so much, but I was also worried that I wasn't monitoring myself like I would like. I knew I was alone in this, so I at least had to be aware if something was wrong.

After a few days, I was going stir-crazy. A few friends had wondered how it would work out: an extrovert like me being stuck in the woods alone for a week. I could be around people on day 4, I just couldn't be around little kids for extended periods. So, I went for drives, stopped in little shops for short periods, and twiddled my thumbs until I could go home again.

I did have a few adventures along the way. I scoured my favorite used bookstore (McKay), and found some books to read for the remainder of my stay. I picked up a natural living newspaper, found an ad for a pizza place, and decided to go visit.

The experience? I came into Lupi's, marveled at the tree sculptures and psychedelic twinkling lights on the ceiling, and decided to try something different. It was definitely something out of the norm for me, and I decided to embrace the experience.  My taste was also altered because of the medication, and so I wondered what would even taste normal.

The whole experience was anything but normal. It was a good experience, don't get me wrong. It was some of the best pizza I'd ever had. But listening to a man from suspected Polynesian descent belt out the lyrics to an old Elton John love duet under a disco ball, while twirling pizza dough.... This wasn't my typical pizza experience. I wondered if the medication was changing my perception, and then I realized I always notice stuff like this. I sent a message to my friend Robin, telling her briefly of the experience. Her response: "I'd love to see the world through your eyes. Even these brief glimpses are a treasure."  I love that my life amuses her...

I hate malls. I can't stand how everyone is darting around in different directions, and it seems that people believe their agenda is the most important. Heaven forbid I get in the way of a lady trying to get to a Hollister sale.  Nevertheless, I missed seeing people and I needed to go look at something.  So the final two days, I spent my hours wandering around the mall looking at things. Actually, the mall is a pretty decent place in May- there's no real rush for anything.

I finally got to return home, and was thrilled to see the kids. I was also being watched because my calcium levels were still dipping. At this point, the doctor started to wonder what was going on. I was under a lot of stress, which doesn't help calcium levels at all. So, I had to start going to get blood work again, and we started to wonder what was going on with my body. My parathyroid glands were looking great, so this left some confusion about my body. 

I looked pretty good, considering I was going through cancer treatment. Still, I felt miserable. I had sores down the inside of my nose and throat, my tongue was swollen, and my neck was tender. I couldn't taste food, and some food even tasted poisonous. I was incredibly tired because I had just started back on thyroid hormone medications, and it would take a while to get back to normal.

So, I did what any normal human being would do... I started teaching summer school. Through all of this, I have to remember I am a single parent and the one that is ultimately responsible for the care of the kids. So, I take any opportunity to build up additional income, knowing they are getting their tonsils out in July, and I will be the parent that has to pay for the surgery up front (and wonder if I will receive half back...).  Summer school only has one week left, so I guess we could say I survived.  I could make it through the days better if I wasn't so TIRED. I wake up exhausted, and spend twenty minutes mentally preparing myself to get out of bed. I know that in a few more weeks, my thyroid hormone will be back to normal and I will feel like living again. I can't even imagine how nice it will be to feel normal. 

I'll make an effort to catch up more at a later point (but soon, I promise!). I guess even typing and trying to remember things can wear me out. I have a lot of thoughts I wrote down in journals or on post-its during the past few months. Once I get a chance to convert them to normal human language, I'll make sure I update this post. :-)

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. :-)

Packing Up 2012

Well, I am at the end of another year. 2012 was a big one for me, because of the project and turning 30. It was also the first year that I was completely, legally (well, for tax purposes, I guess) single. The single thing had already been happening off and on for a couple of years, but it was the first year that it was all me, and everything that happened to me and the kids was because of me. It was GREAT!!

Summarizing a year takes a little bit of time. I had to stretch my mind to think back to the beginning of last year.  On New Year's Eve of 2011, I sat down to write a list of things I wanted to do before turning 30. I published my first blog post, and started this wild and crazy adventure.

Over the past year, I continued losing weight from my highest weight (in 2010, post attack).  I am now, on the last day of December 2012, at 100.2 pounds less than my starting weight! That's a whole other person!!!

I guess you could look back at the list and see all of the cool things I did. Since that would be boring and tedious, I would like to throw out there some great memories from the year. 

I learned to play the drums, while stressing my drum instructor (and friend, Mandy) to the max. I would like to say I am a pro, but that would be lying. I will say that I gave it a lot of effort, and am ready to get back to practicing.

I took a couple of adventures this year. In April, we packed up the family in the Explorer and headed to New York for my father's 50th birthday!  In July, I traveled on a road trip to Indiana and Illinois (very briefly), and in October I flew cross-country to see my new nephew, as well as the sights of Washington.

What I missed? I didn't get to ride in the hot air balloon, but that's going to happen this spring. I didn't finish my list of books, which is crazy since I am a teacher. I realized I read tons of books though, just not "classics." Maybe I should have amended that rule...  The expensive bottle of wine? Didn't do it, and thought about it quite seriously.

I realized I wanted a big moment to commemorate the purchase of an expensive bottle. Even with my birthday, I didn't feel that was big enough.  I know something will eventually be coming up, and I will feel that warrants the purchase and consumption of expensive vino. Until then, I will just hold out hope. :-)

Ups and downs of the year? I was in a relationship for a better part of the year, and it ultimately ended. I just realized after that, and looking back on other relationships, that I don't run a shelter for lost and helpless men. Maybe that's too blunt, but I was growing tired of carrying people. More than anything, that renewed my hope in finding someone that can hold their own. 

I entered into another relationship that turned out to be just that, but sometimes people can be so responsible and attempt to take on too much. There's only so much one can control, so I had to bow out. Who knows what the future will hold with that, and I always look around at more options and the fact that the best things hit me when I am not looking.

I have made good friends, laughed a lot, did some writing, and thought a lot about the future. I submitted an application, made it to round 2 interviews, and was admitted for grad school for counseling, so that is something big to look forward to. I have big life changes, and our lives are moving pretty smooth.

I made it through a year of surgeries, and am glad all of that is done! Carly started out the year with tubes in her ears and her adenoids out.  I went on to have two leg surgeries, hoping to relieve pain and restore function post-attack. When we found out that the leg surgeries were going to leave me with pain in my back and legs for the rest of my life, I was referred to a surgeon for the option of a neurostimulator in my back. I completed the trial, saw big possibilities with pain relief and restoration of function, and jumped at the chance to get the implant. Now, I am sitting on the couch with much less pain, and a hope to join the world again.  I had been powering through and doing so much. I didn't realize how miserable I was while I pushed on. I guess I was in survival mode, and just knew I needed to do the things to make me and the kids ok. I didn't have a choice to be sick.  Now I know how miserable I was, and I hope to never get back there.

The year has been incredibly insightful, and I am excited I am now at a point to embrace 2013. Last year, it just felt like I was grasping at a life and hoping for change.  This year, I am incredibly confident in who I am, and what will be happening in years to come. It's a good feeling. :-)