The 'C' Word.

Reflecting...

On January 6th, 2021, I was called into my Nurse Practitioner's office to discuss the results of my biopsy, and in that moment I knew the swelling on my throat wasn’t just an angry lymph node.

I sat across from her as she read the report, heart pounding and face flush.
My eyes were fixed on hers as she read from the paper; words I’ve never heard before.
Words that really worried me.
I waited and hoped she’d say a word that I could make sense of and then, she said it…

Cancer.

For the longest time I thought my life changed forever the day I faced a fear by walking into a busy operating room set up just for me... Or the moment I woke up without a thyroid, or the morning I took my first pill...

But it was hearing the ‘C’ word.

When it was said to me that day in the office.

 And when I said it out loud for the first time in my Mom and Dad’s living room.

That’s when my life changed forever.

 A few weeks later I had a total Thyroidectomy and fifty-five lymph nodes removed from my neck. When I think about the day of my surgery and the days following, my heart bursts with gratitude and my mind races through memories that I’m sure will stay with me forever.

Like the unexpected calm I felt in the moments before it was time, or the comfort I felt as a lady named Novena prayed out loud in the waiting room beside me, or how truly incredible it was to go from talking one moment to waking up in recovery the next. I will never forget the overwhelming sense of relief I felt to be reassured that the surgery went well. Or the love I felt from my family, friends and community. Or the support and care provided by my husband which was far beyond anything I imagined a partner could be capable of.

Without him, I don’t know what I would do.

But most of all, I will never forget the positive outlook I had immediately following my surgery. Cancer had just taken something from me - a very important part of me, yet I was so ready to move forward. I had a full heart, I was healthy enough - and I just wanted to go back to normal.

Little did I know, you can't move forward and go back to normal at the same time.

A few months later, in June, I prepared for treatment by starving myself of iodine for fourteen days on a special diet. I had a nurse visit my home and give me a series of injections, and I drank a strong dose of radioactive iodine which made me - you guessed it - radioactive. This required me to spend a week in isolation while any remaining Cancer cells in my body absorbed the iodine and were destroyed.

It was really rough, and not exactly a week of my life I want to put into words for the history books… But I got through it, and shortly after my first full body scan, I heard those fourteen sweet, sweet words.

"We can’t say you’re Cancer free, but you’re as close as you’ll ever be!"

Throughout this journey, I focused a lot on healing, processing, and accepting all that had changed. There were times when anxiety, fear and anger fought to control me and there were times I let it. Often I’d wake up in the middle of the night wondering why this happened to me and convince myself that it was spreading rapidly throughout my body. Sometimes I’d cry so hard I’d shake the bed and wake Garett.

But I allowed myself those moments, because I knew when they’d pass, I’d go back to crushing it.

Absolutely crushing it.

I went for walks. I drank lots of water and ate healthy. I balanced every single day with self care and productivity. I started writing a book. I got rid of clutter that didn’t bring me joy. I stopped giving energy to things that no longer served me. I took so many bubble baths, and pampered my skin with detoxifying masks a couple of times a week. I created a bedtime routine that involved fancy lip balm and essential oils and I meditated and manifested good things for all the people I love. I prayed harder than ever, in fact. And I spent a seriously long time massaging my neck and face everyday.

You should try it, it’s quite nice.

I also journaled my feelings and shared a lot of them with you. I connected with people from all over the world. I helped a lot of them and they’ve all helped me feel less alone and more and more normal as time went on.

Oh, and I found this dainty little saucer for my bedside table and every night I set my Synthroid on it for the morning - because if it’s going to be an everyday thing for the rest of my life, why not make it cute?

I am still living with Thyroid Cancer. I know it doesn’t look that way, and I am not saying that to make anyone feel bad - but it’s true. And it’s true for almost all Thyroid Cancer survivors. We will scan, treat, monitor, do blood-work, wait, wonder and worry for the rest of our lives.

But I am stronger than I've ever been and I know I will hear those fourteen sweet, sweet words again and again.

And I've learned a lot about myself and about life. 

So if I may, I'd like to share some advice as we face this new year...

Don’t wait to do the thing.
Don’t worry about shit that’s not important.
You don't have to like everyone, but be nice.
Do things that make you happy and make you feel good.
Use the nice dishes and practice gratitude every single day.
Tell people you love that you love them.
Pray to someone or something, protect your heart and your energy...

... And check your neck.

XO