That Sinking Feeling

The day finally came for me to meet with the surgeon again. Even though I was sure of what he was going to say, I still had a glimmer of hope that he'd say everything is cool, go back to your previously scheduled life. No such luck. I sneaked a peek at the chart where I could barely make out the word "carcinoma." This is not my first rodeo, so I know what that means. He explained the results and what they meant for me. He felt that this growth had been malignant since I first learned about it five years ago, but the technology wasn't there to give an accurate diagnosis. He said since there was no ultrasound done as they did the biopsy, they just jabbed randomly and came up with benign results. I didn't care to ruminate on that, all I cared about knowing whether or not they'd have to remove the thyroid while I was still pregnant.

Everyone thinks that pregnancy is a beautiful time where you live your life, not for yourself, but for the health of the beautiful being that is growing within you. Rainbows, kittens, unicorns, all that jazz. Bullshit. Maybe it's like this for better people than me, but I found this to be an extremely difficult position to be in. I hadn't really felt the baby move yet, didn't know the gender and still didn't really, really believe I was actually pregnant. It's hard to be selfless and benevolent for someone that you have never met. If I had a malignant growth, I sure as shit wanted it out of my body as quickly as possible, I didn't want to wait until after the baby was born.

Of course, I'd never put my baby in danger, but the claustrophobia of slowly dying to keep someone else healthy is hard to live with. It wasn't really that dire of a situation, but when it's YOUR health, it's hard not to be a little bit overdramatic. The doctor assured me that the cancer was not fast moving and waiting until baby comes is really the best course of action. I agreed, but still decided to take a trip back to the teaching hospital in the big city where I had never thought I'd have to return.

I stayed calm in the office and asked all the right questions. The doctor must have thought I either didn't get it or didn't care. I calmly got in my car and drove away from the hospital. Then I freaked out. I went through all the stages of grief in about 10 minutes, from "this cannot be happening again" to "why is it always me" winding my way through bargaining, depression and then to "well, here we go again, I did it once, I can do it again." I've always been a bit accelerated when it comes to emotions.

I wasn't sure how I was going to handle the total removal of my thyroid, working out the right dosage of synthetic thyroid hormones, radiation treatment, a conspicuous scar that looks like a murder attempt and a brand new baby, but I guessed I'd cross that bridge when I got there.