Well. This is what it’s like, huh? About every hour or so I go from one extreme emotion (f-bomb dropping anger) to another (weepy sorrow) to another (why me pity party) to another (not wanting to accept the label of “victim”) to another (being made to feel that this is not a big deal, even though it IS because it’s freaking CANCER after all) to another (feeling completely isolated and alone).

There is no road map before me. I’ve never done this before and I don’t know how I’m “supposed” to feel. Huz has never done this before either and I’m sure he doesn’t know how to feel, but, as always, he remains my steady rock of support. I came home last night after a long day of waiting at the Dr’s. office as they “fit me in” for a surgery consult (this basically entailed me sitting on my ass for 3 hours before being seen) to a house filled with the smells of a homemade Indian meal, a dozen red roses, and these awesome (awesome!) cookies. He’s a great partner and I’m blessed that he’s mine and that he kind of likes me.

The consult was how most probably are: very straight forward and full of facts and risks. Surgeons are not know for their empathy or bedside manner, not that he was horrible, but he was lacking in the “I’m sorries” for sure. After an hour with him and hearing that there is a risk of infection or bleeding during surgery, I had another ultrasound of my neck. He saw that some lymph nodes on my left side were a bit enlarged and said that I’d have to have another needle biopsy on those to see if they were cancerous. If so, he’ll have to remove them in surgery too which will double the time of the thyroidectomy (2.5 – 4 hours) and that the 2 inch scar will be larger as he’d have to cut closer toward my ear.

Great. Just freaking great.

I’m already dreading this scar (or the “second smile” as I’m calling it) and wondering if I’m going to look like a human jigsaw puzzle. I think that’s what I’m dealing with mostly at the moment – other than being pissed that this is actually happening to me (I’m a good person, damn it!) – that my body will be marred and my self image (which is already dangerously close to the edge) will be in danger of falling way low.


I hate this.

The surgery won’t be until January, so I have loads of time to ride this roller coaster. Good times.