Pages

Doctors orders

Take a minute and stop to think about the scariest word you can think of... Death? Hate? Evil?

Cancer.

Nothing makes my heart race, mouth dry, or stomach drop more than the mention of that word when it's connected to someone I love. But no matter how many times I've loved, supported or prayed for someone with that most frightening illness, nothing in this world could have prepare me for how it would feel to sit in a doctor's office, have him look in my eyes and say that word relating to me.

"It is cancer." I have thyroid cancer.

There was no evil masked murderer, no violent act of terror, no physical force.... just tiny microscopic cells, silently growing and dividing inside my body. Quiet. No explosion or gun shot... just a few words.

I remember blinking a lot and holding my hands in my lap so they wouldn't shake and looking at my husband. I had been fearing that moment for about a week but didn't really believe that it would be our reality. After days of googling questions and searching for percentages and explanations for inconclusive pathology reports, suddenly my mind was completely blank.

The next half hour went by in the absence of time. Explaining, questions, answers, processing, scheduling, understanding, breathing, crying, holding. Surgery. Thyroid cancer: the best cancer to have. "Excellent chance at a full and complete recovery." But still, that word: cancer.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It has been almost a year since that day. I've had a tough surgery, two even tougher rounds of radioactive iodine treatment, and experienced what is quite possibly the widest range of emotions a person can feel in a lifetime, all smushed into 11 months. And it isn't over.

Not long ago, I had my annual exam with our family doctor and completely broke down into a most ugly cry. An appointment that was supposed to be a simple check up of blood pressure and cholesterol levels turned into a glorious counseling session that ended with the recommendation that I start blogging again. Huh.

My body has been working overtime to fight and heal, but my heart... my heart is fighting too. Fighting to stay positive, to be hopeful... fighting to find the light. This doctor has never lead me astray before and I'm not going to start doubting him now. So here I am, filling my prescription with unlimited refills: writing to heal.




5 comments:

Renae said...

God's blessings to you Sara. You're stronger than you ever thought you would be. Thank you for sharing with us today.

Erin said...

Sara, Thank you for sharing this. You remain in my prayers!

Adele said...

Thank you for sharing your story. Praying for healing and strength-- we can all learn from your experiences. Much love!

Paulette Clayton said...

Sweet Sara, YOU, as always, handle every thing well. YOU are transferring your emotion to this blog from the private moments you protect US from. M.D. is correct; share with us! We can help you untangle those bundled nerves which is the best medicine at this point in time.
Aunt P

sara said...

Thank you all for your prayers and support. Knowing that I have you cheering me on through this part of the journey is invaluable. XOXO Sara