Goodbye Thyroid Part IV

My life has been full of terrible misfortunes most of which never happened. 

--Michel de Montaigne

     On January 12, Dr. H gave me the news on my thyroid ultrasound with "At least it's not pancreatic cancer" and reassured me with "thyroid cancer is almost 100% curable."  She scheduled an appointment with a surgeon as soon as possible.

     What would you think?

     In the meantime, I called the University of Utah hospital where I already go to an ENT for an intravestibular schwannoma (tumor).  His nurse said that Dr. S only does the brain.  "He probably hasn't operated on the thyroid since medical school."  She recommended and made an appointment for me with an ENT doctor in the same clinic.

     I cancelled my appointment with the first surgeon and now have to wait over a week for an appointment.

     I'm an emotional wreck.  I never want things to change.  I don't want to face hard things.  I'm not concerned about suffering as much as I am anxious about Eddy.

     DeRay calls Brooke to come over and help give me a blessing.  Brooke blessed me that we would make wise decisions in choosing a doctor and treatment.  Brooke patiently coaxed Ed into doing the anointing.  Whether Ed was petrified or whether he was concerned about me, I don't know.  He was shaking, on the verge of tears - but he did it.  I particularly felt Mama's presence.  She always cheered for both her grandsons, before and after her death.  I knew she would be there for Eddy. 

     I woke up vividly obsessed with this question:  "Were you here last night, Mama?"  I believe Daddy was here too and other family members.  Sometimes in my distress, I actually would get a little excited feeling about seeing Mama and Daddy soon, and Uncle Ed, and my grandparents, whom I didn't know in this life and if I knew them before, I've forgotten.

     The blessing helped.  It gave me peace and sometimes I actually began to feel normal.

     Meanwhile, Amy gets the flu.  We all get the flu.  We wash bedding, rugs, and clothes; spray the entire house with disinfectant; take showers and survive.  We're still coughing.  No one can quite get totally well.

     We take the ultrasound DVD down to the U - Dr. Luke O. Buckmann.  He knows he will operate but he likes to know whether or not the nodules are malignant.  His office schedules an appointment with Dr. Abraham, an endocrinologist, whom we actually went to in 2003.  Another three-week wait to see him.  I'm a bundle of nerves.

     How did Mama do it?
     I have vivid memories of her standing at dusk with her arms folded looking out the big picture window in our front room.  Her view was our front lawn and the hollow.  Nothing more.  She was lonely.  She was forlorn.  I knew.  She had a brain tumor.  She was staying with us while she had her cobalt treatments.  By now, she had been fighting the malignant tumor for more than twelve years.  She was in constant pain.  She was away from home.

In the olden days, she would have scurried to do the dishes after dinner. 

Silently, she got up from the table and walked to the front room and stared out.  At nothing.

Why am I remembering this now?

Because I think I know a little more how she felt.

Not yet.

Not the intensity.

But the forsaken part.

The ultrasound showed nodules on my thyroid gland.  I’m waiting to see the surgeon.

It’s almost more than I can bear.

How do the homeless do it?

The prisoners of war?

The oppressed?

The multitudes in refugee and concentration camps?

I have a home, a family, care, warmth.

Love.

(Although I sometimes question that.)

Illness is a lonely thing.

No one can compensate.

My heart is so heavy

I can’t breathe.

Mama, give me your courage.

Help me buckle up.

Tuesday night, January 24, 2012

We went on the preplanned cruise:  DeRay, Brent, Eddy, and I.  I tried not to ruin it for everyone.  The distraction turned out to be very good for me.  I wasn’t consumed 24/7.  Sometimes I was having such a good time that I could even forget.  Truthfully, nothing has changed.  I'm not sick, like my brother Jerry who has serious thyroid issues.  Nothing hurts.  Except fear and worry.  Amy said she didn’t think I have cancer because I'm not tired.  That’s true.  All distress and misery are self-inflicted.

My personal response came in the feeling that "all will be well", with the precaution:  “You still have to die.  But not now.”  That’s all I ask.  Of course, everyone has to die sometime.  That’s a given, even I get.

Things tensed up the closer it got to my appointment with Dr. Abraham.  I cleaned the house and prepared for the worst.  The night before, my brother, DeLoy, mentioned that it would take about 10 days to get the results back on the biopsy.  Why didn’t I think of that?  I won’t find out anything tomorrow.  I slept well.

I was disappointed that everyone I had told didn’t call Wednesday night after my appointment with Dr. Abraham.  Why did I think they were as consumed as I was?  Everyone has his/her own problems.  Much to my dismay, I’m not the center of the Universe.

Life is like an island lost in the ocean of solitude. . .

Your Life is an island separate from all the other islands and regions.  However, many vessels leave your shores for other countries, however many fleets sail to your ports, you will always be a separate island, suffering the pangs of solitude and aspiring to happiness.  Other men do not know you at all and they are far from pitying your solitude or understanding you.

My brother, your life is like an isolated house, far from any human dwelling.  A house which no gaze from outside can penetrate.

If it were deprived of light your neighbor’s lamp could not illuminate it.  If the house stood in the desert you could not transport it into the garden of other men, ploughed and cultivated by other hands.

My brother, the life of the spirit goes by in solitude, and without this solitude and this isolation you would be in no way what you are, neither would I be what I am.  Without the isolation and this solitude, I should come to believe on hearing your voice that it is my voice which is speaking or on seeing your face that it is the reflection of my face in a mirror.—The Eye of the Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

Brent and Jan and my sister Lucy called.  No one else.  No friends.  No acquaintances.  No strangers.  Carol called on Thursday.  I finally called Shirley on Sunday.  I had emailed DeLoy.  We’re Skype friends so we keep in touch.  We talked to Jerry and Lana Gale since Jerry and I seem to be The Thyroid Twins.  Lynn & Juanita’s daughter had her thyroid out a month ago so they understand. Why doesn’t Verla call?  I about went crazy before she called on Sunday night.  I wanted to tell her about my visit with Dr. Abraham.

DeRay, Ed, and I left at about 11:50 to go to Dr. Abraham.  I had two biopsies and an ultrasound in less than 45 minutes.  He checked my previous MRI’s to look for a tumor on the pituitary that Dr. Grant thought he saw.  He thought the nodules in my thyroid looked rather common for someone who has had Hashimoto’s Disease for decades and probably a lifetime.  Hashimoto’s job is to help the thyroid destroy itself; actually it is the first autoimmune disease identified.  He also said they tested 3,000 Downwinders and the thyroid cancer rate was no higher for them than the general population.  The radiation exposure was not the type that causes thyroid cancer.  I'm much calmer for the wait for biopsy results.  If I had gone to the first surgeon, I probably would have had surgery that very week when maybe I don't even need it out yet.  I wait 5-7 days for results but I’m free from fear.

Later that evening Brooke called, forcing me to tell my story again.

Tuesday February 21, 2012.  Dr. Abraham himself called around noon.  No messenger for him.  “Both nodules are benign.”

Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!

“They will continue to grow so you need to schedule surgery to have your thyroid out, even though it is still functioning.  If the goiter gets too large, the surgery is much more complicated.  It’s already infringing on your chest.”

I thanked him.  Not only for the results but for his kindness and reassuring demeanor.

“Bless you, Ma’am,” he said as he hung up the phone.

I believe he may be the only doctor I’ve ever liked.  What a gentleman.  I think he’s India Indian.  I’m elated and relieved.  Hurray!

DeRay listened in on the phone exchange.  Eavesdropper.  Then we visited for an hour.  I know. I know.  I still have to die sometime and so does he.  Just not yet.  THANK YOU GOD.

2:44 PM Same day.  Dr. Buckmann’s office just called to see if I wanted to set up surgery.

No.  Not yet.  I’m still basking in the light of my reprieve.

Well, OK, Huntsman Cancer Center; Tuesday, April 10, 2012.

Post Script:  Nearly two weeks later, Dr. Abraham called again, forgetting he had called the first time and gave me the good news that my tumors were benign.  He suggested I check every day to see if I can feel growth and have them checked again in six months unless I notice significant change.  Now I'm baffled.  I put in a call to Dr. Buckmann's nurse but in all day she didn't call back and we are leaving early in the morning on Ed's birthday trip.  I'll still have time to cancel the surgery when we get back if that's what we decide.  Amy said she thinks surgery should be a last resort, but when you're dealing with tumors and cancer, you don't take any chances.   
DeRay's sister, Clare, spent the week with us in Vegas.  She had just been to Phoenix to her twin grandkids' third birthday party.  A friend rode over with her.  She had just had her thyroid removed.  Her biopsy report came back benign also.  They only planned to take out one side but when they removed it, it was full of cancer.  Three weeks later she had the other side removed which was cancerous also.  She's now waiting for the radiation pills or whatever they do.  She's also applying for Downwinder Compensation.  That's exactly why Dr. Hendler recommended I don't bother with a biopsy.  The part they biopsy might be benign but until they look at all of it, you won't know if any part of it is cancerous.  I'm convinced. On the one hand, it seems like when your thyroid is still functioning you leave it alone; on the other hand, the nodules are growing and what else are they doing?  Hashimoto's won, I'm afraid.