LJ Idol : The Elephant in the room
Nov. 26th, 2010 12:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dezaYesterday, I had a thyroid biopsy. Seven passes of a small needle into my throat, suctioning out small amounts of tissue to be examined for cancer cells. It's not a way I'd recommend to spend vacation time.
One of my daughter's friends is pretty well freaked out about this. I've been asked a lot of questions about thyroid cancer, and associated mortality rates. J's ben working herself up pretty well over it, because it's the dreaded "C" word. Cancer. Yeah, I may have thyroid cancer, Part of me honestly hopes I do - as cancers go, it's easily contained, easily removed and I just have to take a higher dose of synthroid than I do already. Who knows, that may even get me feeling more human again.
What J doesn't realize is this is a minor thing for me. I have so many medical issues already that a small, easily-medicated problem is barely a blip on the radar any more. Yeah, I got a little nervoud about the procedure itself, but the results don't scare me all that much.
You see, I'm already dying. I have been for several years.
We don't really talk about it around the house much, but it's not a secret. For every bit of function I lose - the latest is I can't fasten necklace clasps - it's one step closer to that final breakdown. Six years ago, I was told that I would be very, very lucky to live to see my son graduate high school. He's in fourth grade this year, which means I'm somewhere in the the 5-10 year survival bracket.
Knowing there's a time limit is actually strangely freeing. I know I don't have all the time in the world to accomplish my dreams, so I'm working on actually doing them. My biggest one, publishing a book, is done. I'd like to write more, of course. Mesty and his brothers aren't done with me yet, and I've also got a foster mom with a werewolf pup on the run through the Appalaichans to deal with, a foul-mouthed angel tasked with guiding a group of humans through a zombie apocalypse (even though he thinks less than half of them are worth the effort), a vampire retainer trying to solve her boss's murder before she takes the fall for it... Ideas. I has them. And I'd like to tell those stories, even though typing is so difficult. I've thought of dictating it all for a friend to transcribe, since transcription software does NOT like my accent, but that's when my embarrassment and natural shyness kick in.
There are other things I want to do that are going to be more difficult. I want to see the west coast again, or travel overseas, but I'm not sure how well the TSA will react to my TENS unit or the large amount of pills I'd need to make a flight. I've been putting off even thinking of that.
Still, it's pretty much accepted in my house as common knowledge that I'm dying. Not this week, not this month, but something that is inevitable. We don't talk about it or make a big deal about it. It's just one of those things that suck that have to be dealt with - sort of like when you find the super-size nail in your tire that leaves a hole big enough that it just won't quite hold a patch. Fix-a-flat only keeps you going for so long. Eventually that tire will be done, and the other tires will have to go on with a new one.
It wasn't until J started freaking over the possibility of thyroid cancer that I realized the extent of my illnesses has never been mentioned to her. I've been sick the entire time she's known me. She sees me in bed or a wheelchair more than walking. But the end... there's just never been a reason to discuss it with her. I don't want to be whiny or mopey about it, so I tend not to mention it all that much.
The good part of having an elephant taking up space in your room is it tends to grow only as much as you feed it. I'll talk to J about how, for me, this is just one more medical test and even if it' the worst diagnosis it won't effect my life that much. A quick surgery, an increase in a medication I already take - it's not so bad. I've been a breast cancer survivor for going on 18 years, so thyroid cancer really doesn't scare me all that much. Fred the Cancer Elephant can shrink up and disapprear. We're crowded enough with the rest of the medical elephant herd around here.
Now, George the Neurology Elephant, and Reba the Ankylosing Spondylitis Elephant, and Douglas the Mental Stability Elephant, and MacArthur the Military Deployment Elephant, they might cause some problems. I'm still working on taming them.
This has been my entry for this week's LJ Idol. The topic was The Elephant in the Room. It was a bit of challenge to find just one elephant to discuss. I hope you enjoyed reading!
One of my daughter's friends is pretty well freaked out about this. I've been asked a lot of questions about thyroid cancer, and associated mortality rates. J's ben working herself up pretty well over it, because it's the dreaded "C" word. Cancer. Yeah, I may have thyroid cancer, Part of me honestly hopes I do - as cancers go, it's easily contained, easily removed and I just have to take a higher dose of synthroid than I do already. Who knows, that may even get me feeling more human again.
What J doesn't realize is this is a minor thing for me. I have so many medical issues already that a small, easily-medicated problem is barely a blip on the radar any more. Yeah, I got a little nervoud about the procedure itself, but the results don't scare me all that much.
You see, I'm already dying. I have been for several years.
We don't really talk about it around the house much, but it's not a secret. For every bit of function I lose - the latest is I can't fasten necklace clasps - it's one step closer to that final breakdown. Six years ago, I was told that I would be very, very lucky to live to see my son graduate high school. He's in fourth grade this year, which means I'm somewhere in the the 5-10 year survival bracket.
Knowing there's a time limit is actually strangely freeing. I know I don't have all the time in the world to accomplish my dreams, so I'm working on actually doing them. My biggest one, publishing a book, is done. I'd like to write more, of course. Mesty and his brothers aren't done with me yet, and I've also got a foster mom with a werewolf pup on the run through the Appalaichans to deal with, a foul-mouthed angel tasked with guiding a group of humans through a zombie apocalypse (even though he thinks less than half of them are worth the effort), a vampire retainer trying to solve her boss's murder before she takes the fall for it... Ideas. I has them. And I'd like to tell those stories, even though typing is so difficult. I've thought of dictating it all for a friend to transcribe, since transcription software does NOT like my accent, but that's when my embarrassment and natural shyness kick in.
There are other things I want to do that are going to be more difficult. I want to see the west coast again, or travel overseas, but I'm not sure how well the TSA will react to my TENS unit or the large amount of pills I'd need to make a flight. I've been putting off even thinking of that.
Still, it's pretty much accepted in my house as common knowledge that I'm dying. Not this week, not this month, but something that is inevitable. We don't talk about it or make a big deal about it. It's just one of those things that suck that have to be dealt with - sort of like when you find the super-size nail in your tire that leaves a hole big enough that it just won't quite hold a patch. Fix-a-flat only keeps you going for so long. Eventually that tire will be done, and the other tires will have to go on with a new one.
It wasn't until J started freaking over the possibility of thyroid cancer that I realized the extent of my illnesses has never been mentioned to her. I've been sick the entire time she's known me. She sees me in bed or a wheelchair more than walking. But the end... there's just never been a reason to discuss it with her. I don't want to be whiny or mopey about it, so I tend not to mention it all that much.
The good part of having an elephant taking up space in your room is it tends to grow only as much as you feed it. I'll talk to J about how, for me, this is just one more medical test and even if it' the worst diagnosis it won't effect my life that much. A quick surgery, an increase in a medication I already take - it's not so bad. I've been a breast cancer survivor for going on 18 years, so thyroid cancer really doesn't scare me all that much. Fred the Cancer Elephant can shrink up and disapprear. We're crowded enough with the rest of the medical elephant herd around here.
Now, George the Neurology Elephant, and Reba the Ankylosing Spondylitis Elephant, and Douglas the Mental Stability Elephant, and MacArthur the Military Deployment Elephant, they might cause some problems. I'm still working on taming them.
This has been my entry for this week's LJ Idol. The topic was The Elephant in the Room. It was a bit of challenge to find just one elephant to discuss. I hope you enjoyed reading!
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Date: 2010-11-29 12:06 am (UTC)