For posterity's sake, since I'm sure one day I'll want to remember all the details...
It's been nearly 12 hours since my doctor gave me the news, and I think it's just now starting to sink in. I have thyroid cancer. I thought I was prepared for this diagnosis and that I expected this diagnosis--but somehow it still left me in a haze for most of the day.
At the beginning of May, I had my annual thyroid ultrasound and learned that my once-tiny nodule had doubled in size over the course of a year. Because of this, the radiologist who analyzed images from my exam recommended a biopsy to determine the tumor's cytology. I then had an ultrasound-guided fine needle aspiration biopsy performed on my thyroid last Friday. Once the doctors tell you that they're seeing something suspicious, you start to brace yourself for the worst. I had been mentally telling myself that I might have cancer--but still the whole idea of cancer didn't really sink in because I didn't know if I actually had it. The assignment of that word seems to instantly make things sound a lot more serious.
I anxiously awaited news of the biopsy results from my doctor. When I got off of work last night, I saw that I had a missed call and voicemail from my endocrinologist. She didn't leave any specific information in the message, but I knew from her choice of words that it was likely not good. She didn't indicate that there was no cause for worry, and made it seem very important that I speak with her as soon as I could. I started to get a little emotional while driving home, and then once I was home and told my mom about the message, I broke down. Here I had been talking for weeks about the possibility of having cancer, and then the reality hit that I might actually have it after all. I just kept saying to my mom, "I have a feeling it's going to be bad."
I barely slept last night. The hours I did sleep were restless, and then I work up nearly 3 hours earlier than I needed to. I was making myself sick with worry, to the point that I went to the bathroom about 12 times in the span of just a couple hours. I had to make a smoothie for breakfast because liquids were just about all I could stomach, and I knew I needed some nutrients. Since my doctor didn't try calling me again last night or first thing in the morning like she had suggested she might, before work I ended up driving over to the imaging center where I had the biopsy done so that I could get a copy of the report. Unfortunately, the pathology hadn't been faxed to them yet, so I left empty-handed. Then I tried calling my primary care physician's office to see if they might have a copy of the report, but once again I was unsuccessful. So, despite my best efforts at quelling the major anxiety I was experiencing, I was forced to continue to wait.
I got to work and couldn't really think about anything except for the fact that my doctor needed to talk to me and that she had the results and I didn't. It's terrible knowing that the truth is out there, but is being kept from you. I checked my phone a few times while at work, and saw that I had a missed call from my doctor's medical assistant, asking that I leave a message at their office with some good times that the doctor could call me. I was so anxious to talk to my endocrinologist by this point that I left my work phone number and told her to call me there. This situation seemed to grant an exception to a standard no-work-phones-for-personal-use policy.
Less than an hour after I called my doctor's office, the phone rang, my co-worker picked it up and then let me know the call was for me. I excused myself to my boss's office and took the call there. I don't remember everything my doctor said in those first few moments we spoke, but I don't think I'll ever forget these words: "They did find some cancer cells." I was actually relatively calm and collect when she shared the news with me. She told me about the type of cancer (papillary) and the prognosis (good). She told me she would send me the names of some excellent surgeons and promised to be with me every step of the way. She even offered to speak with my mom and explain it all to her.
After the phone call, I walked into the bathroom for a few seconds where I cried, but then quickly composed myself and got back out to the floor. We've all heard the expression "I felt like I was dreaming," but I think today marks the first time I truly experienced what those words mean. I was conscious and in my body, but it just sort of felt like everything was going on around me and I was totally detached from it. Cancer. Cancer. Cancer. At first, saying, "I have cancer," made me cry. Now it's starting to sound more normal. My new normal.
I realized that I should tell my manager what was going on, so I pulled her aside into the office and said aloud for the first time, "I have cancer." She was truly wonderful and compassionate and actually managed to make me crack up amidst all of it, which I think is a gift of hers. She excused me to make some phone calls and told me to not worry about getting hours covered. I then called my mom, and for the second time I spoke the words, "I have cancer," and again the tears came.
Today was certainly not my most focused, but somehow I managed to get through a full workday. While at lunch, I subtly broke the news to Facebook friends. My mom brought me flowers at work. I contemplated the fact that not a single customer knew that the sales associate helping them was just diagnosed with cancer.
I got off work and returned home in that same foggy mental state. I talked to my parents for awhile, and I cried fewer tears and had an easier time talking about my cancer. I have cancer.
And life still goes on. I ate my regular dinner and did my regular gym routine and the whole world kept on being normal. Except I can't help but feel like everything's changed now--like my whole life is going to now be marked on a timeline of "before cancer" versus "after cancer." I think about the fact that soon I will be a member of the group "cancer survivors." I also think about the post I wrote several weeks ago and said that at least my thyroid disease isn't cancer--but now it is cancer. One phone call changed me forever.
Before I heard the official news, somewhere amidst trips to the bathroom and the imaging center, I kept thinking about Psalm 139:5. He goes with me and before me. His hand is upon me. Knowing that He's prepared the way and is not surprised by this and that nothing's changed for Him comforts me, because right now amidst all the changes I can be sure that He will be steadfast and unchanging. I have peace and hope because I know that He is my Great Physician and oversees my life and health.
Once the diagnosis came and news had time to settle, the verse that came to mind was Psalm 23:4. Even when I walk through darkness, He's with me. There is nothing to fear.
I know it might take a few days to truly process the news, but overall I have actually been impressed by my own resiliency (and I say that with sincere humility). Somehow the word "cancer" makes me feel like I should be freaking out, but, despite my shock, I'm actually not all that surprised. I think somewhere deep down I knew this was coming. He goes before me and guides me. He leads me to green pastures and still waters. He restores my soul and fills my cup to overflowing.
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