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Cancer Surgery Day

Today is my surgery day- the day I have a complete thyroidectomy and neck dissection to remove the cancer in my thyroid and lymph nodes.  This isn’t the end of this, but the beginning- the beginning to get this out of my body.

I have written a lot over the past few months about my feelings and thoughts with cancer.  I have many more I haven’t written.  I have experienced every emotion, and then some.  I  discovered the strength people saw in me that I didn’t see in myself.  Through their eyes, I  have discovered that strength for myself.

I can’t thank everyone enough for all the positive comments, prayers, love, and support you have shown me during this time. I wouldn’t be feeling so optimistic about the surgery today and my future, if it wasn’t for all of you- my family, and my loved ones. 

 Today is the major step I have to take to get from being a cancer patient to a cancer survivor. This is the first of many steps, but I am ready.  I have done what I needed to do to prepare, and now it is time to turn it over to the highly competent people who have the medical knowledge to help me become cancer free.

I feel at peace, confident, and nervous.  I never in a million years imagined I would be facing a surgery of this magnitude, but in life we don’t always get to chose the direction it takes us in.  I have found so many positive things in this experience as well, and I will share those in another blog post in the future.

Please keep my family and myself in your thoughts and prayers today.  The surgery is going to be anywhere from 7-12 hours long.  My good friend, Amy, (aka Crunchy Domestic Goddess) will update my blog and my Twitter account for me when she can, since it will be several days before I am able to blog again.  Please keep Ryan and Cole in your prayers too. I am not sure how many days it will be before I am well enough to see them, and that will be one thing that will be motivating me for a fast recovery in the hospital. 

Tonight my sister, Vanessa, gave me card.  It said on the front of it, “everything will be okay in the end.  If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.”  That made me laugh and it is true.  This isn’t the end for me- just a very big obstacle, but one that is not hopeless. 

 This surgery is hope for me, and is hope that I will recover and remain cancer free for my family and friends.   There has been some awful, awful dark days – days where I wanted to give up, but my family and friends wouldn’t let me.  Their amazing support got me through those days, and in that I found reasons to try another day and hope things would get better. 

I love you all, and thank you from the bottom of my heart for not just being there for me through this, but taking it on as well for me.  Thank you for giving me hope, when I couldn’t find it myself.  I am going to end this blog post with a quote I found a few days ago- you all helped me find that hope. 

When the world says, “Give up,”

Hope whispers, “Try it one more time.”

~ Unknown

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Cancer Family & Friends Health Me

PET CT Cancer Scan Results- Hope

I was expecting to find out the results of the PET CT scan to determine if the cancer had spread past my lymph nodes, during my pre-opt appointment with my surgeon.  This was scheduled for Wednesday, late afternoon.  I didn’t even consider that when I told the imaging center they could send the results to my regular doctor too, they would contact me first.

As I was walking into work this morning, my phone rang and it was the my primary care physician’s office.  The office administrator told me Dr. B., had just finished reviewing my scan results, and he wanted her to call me right away with the results.  My heart sank.  I was preparing for the worst.   She told me that they all knew how concerned I was, and then I heard her tell me everything was fine.  It was all normal- there was no signs of cancer showing up anywhere else.  She said it did show it was in my thyroid, but it had not spread to any other organs.

I felt like a 2,000 pound weight was lifted off my shoulders.  I was so happy, and I started crying.  I told her thank you so much and asked her to thank Dr. B. for me too, for getting back to me so soon.  I ran into my office and told my co-workers.  D., was not in the office yet, but  I couldn’t wait to tell her.  I also couldn’t wait to tell my family, so I went outside and made the call to my family, who have been there for me in ways I couldn’t imagine, since this whole ordeal started.

I couldn’t stop crying as I called them- and my heart was filled with joy that  I finally, finally, had good news to give them, instead of always the bad news that seemed to keep getting worse.  I could hear the happiness and the relief in their voices.  As bad as all this has been- as emotionally draining as it has been- as many tears as I have cried- none of that mattered this morning when I could tell my family that the cancer had not spread.  Before I went back to work, I posted the good news on Facebook, because so many of my friends have been there for me too- every step of the way.  I would not have made it through these last few months without them either.

D. was out of the office until the afternoon, and I started crying before I could even tell her the result.  I told her I knew- the cancer hadn’t spread any further, and I was so relieved.  She was so happy for me as well, and gave me lots of hugs.  I had to run some office errands before I left, and I picked up a card for D.  I wrote her a heart-felt thanks, and gave it to her as I was leaving.  She didn’t open it in front of me, but I wanted her to know how much her kind gesture touched me, and to thank her again.  I would not have the peace of mind and the knowledge that after Friday, after the surgery is done, I can start to move on, totally sure that cancer is out of my body. 

I know all the prayers, well-wishes, and positive thoughts everyone has sent me- through my blog, Facebook, Twitter, cards, and private e-mails has contributed to the happy news today.  I can’t thank you all enough.  Fighting something like this, you take the good news where you can, and this is the hope I needed to really give me the strength and the determination to make a full recovery. Knowing that I am not alone, and people are pulling for me has made the difference. 

My uncle, Mike,  left me a comment on Facebook before I knew the results of the scan which said in part, “Heather you will be OK. Too much white light streaming in your direction not to.”  I couldn’t agree more.  Thank you for all the white light- it created today.

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Cancer Family & Friends Work

Thank You for Giving Me Hope

I wrote in my previous post, that my insurance company denied my doctor’s order of a PET CT scan to determine if the cancer had spread to any other areas in my body. I woke up on Friday morning, feeling a little better,  but still- I wanted to know for sure, and I was going to have to learn to live with that shadow of a doubt- always wondering.

My boss, D., asked me to call her after the scan, and let her know how it went.  I called my office on Friday morning.  D., wasn’t available, so I filled a co-worker in on the situation and asked her to fill D. in when she could.  My co-worker was outraged the insurance wouldn’t pay, and it helped to hear someone else was mad and thought the insurance company was ridiculous for denying this. 

I was trying to pack up our stuff for a weekend in Denver at my dad’s house when my phone rang.  It was D.  She asked me what was going on.  I explained to her what the insurance company had told the imaging company and the reasons the insurance gave for denying the order- basically because I wasn’t sick enough yet. 

D. told me that was absolutely absurd, and she was mad for me too.  She asked me how much the scan cost, and was the reason I canceled the scan because of the cost.  I told her yes- we just didn’t have that much money to spare right now.  I was shocked at what D. said next- she said she would like to pay for the scan for me, so I didn’t have to worry and wonder if the cancer was spreading.  She told me I was the mother of two young boys, and I needed to know so I could move on with my life.  She told me we would figure it out someday, and to not worry about it at all- she had it covered.

I couldn’t say anything at first.  I was crying and finally managed to tell her “thank you.”  D. told me she could not imagine not knowing if it were her, and she wanted to do this for me.  She told me to get off the phone and call back the imaging company so I could get an appointment as soon as possible. 

I called them back and I now have an appointment for the scan on Tuesday at 10:30.  They will have the results back to my surgeon in time for my pre-opt. appointment with him on Wednesday.   I called D. back to let her know.  I thanked her countless times.  She told me she was happy to help, and suggested what my friend did- to question the insurance company, and try to get them to pay for it.  But she said if they didn’t, and when I get a bill for it, to let her know.

I told D. I would, and all I could say to her was “thank you.” She told me she hoped this would make this time a little happier, and I have a lot to look forward to in the future.  As we hung up, I was overcome with her generosity and help.  I am still a little shocked thinking about this.  It is such an unexpected bright spot in the weeks of gloom I have had recently. I will know one way or another, what the true condition of my cancer is.  If it bad news I need to find out sooner than later.  Early detection is the key in surviving.   If it is good news, it will be the first step in being able to move on as a cancer survivor after my surgery- without always having that seed of doubt and wonder in the back of my mind.

I am so grateful and appreciative for this unexpected gift. It is no secret that I haven’t been feeling positive lately, despite my best efforts.  D.’s isn’t just helping me get a scan, but her words to me, made me realize what had been really bothering me- the uncertainty of all of this.  I can handle a “brutal” surgery.  I am going to have good days and bad days recovering.  As long as I know the cancer has not spread, and I am going to be fine- I can get through it. 

Not knowing is worse.  It magnifies the odds, no matter how small they are. I lay awake at night wondering if I am going to be around in a year, in five years, in ten years, and my biggest fear has been- what if the cancer has spread, and is slowing killing me, and I don’t even know it?

I will never be able to repay D., even if I repay the money someday.  Being able to get this scan right now, when I need to know- have to know- will give me peace of mind, and the answers I need.  It is the first step to my future- no matter what the results are- I can stop wondering and being scared, and start living my life again.  Not just hoping for the best, but knowing what the best actually is.  

So many people have been so supportive and I honestly can’t thank you all enough- from my family and friends- rearranging their lives to help me right now, to the offers of help- from doing handy work at the house, to cooking meals, to the supportive e-mails, to watching the boys, to paying for the scan, to the thoughtful cards and small gifts that are sent, to listening to me and helping me whenever I need to talk.  

All of these kind acts have given me hope. D.’s offer of help was the icing on the cake-but the cake has been there all along.  I can’t express what it all means to me, so the only thing I can say is thank you. Thank you for giving me hope.  Thank you to everyone-from the bottom of my heart.

Categories
Cancer Me

The PET Scan That Wasn’t

A few months ago, I experienced the biopsy that wasn’t, and I found out on Thursday, that my PET scan isn’t going to happen today either.

When I left work on Thursday, I checked my messages, and the imaging clinic asked me to call them as soon as possible.  The lady there said my insurance had not approved the scan, because I “only” had stage I papillary cancer.  She said my insurance said I had to have stage II thyroid cancer, OR stage I thyroid cancer (papillary) and a thyroidectomy.  I told her I was scheduled for a thyroidectomy next week.  She clarified even further and said at stage I, there has to be indication of reoccurrence of the cancer.

She told me without the reoccurrence, it is nearly impossible to get the insurance companies to pay for the scan.  She said the thyroidectomy would make a stronger case, but it would still be very difficult.  I sat in the car, stuck in construction traffic, in a state of disbelief- yet again.

I wanted the PET scan so I would have peace of mind.  I want to know the true condition of my health.  The reality that an insurance company can deny me that simply because I am not sick enough, or because the cancer hasn’t spread yet– just is inconceivable. 

The lady told me she didn’t want me to be surprised tomorrow at this news (which I appreciate they did call to tell me this), and if I still wanted it, I would have to pay it out of pocket.  She said it is over $2,000.  On one hand, this is my health-money shouldn’t be an object.  But on the other hand it occurred to me that there probably is a reason the insurance company won’t pay, based on some research my family has done for me.  

The chances and statistics of stage I, papillary thyroid cancer spreading beyond the lymph nodes is rare.  If it does happen, it is very slow moving and more than likely would take years for this to happen. I remember Dr. S. telling me my cancer was in the very early stages, and that we had caught it early.  Dr. S.’s office had said usually the endocrinologist ordered a PET scan, down the road if it was needed.  The thought occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, the chances were extremely low that the cancer had spread.

I asked the lady if my thinking was correct.  I can’t remember her exact words, but she confirmed that if the cancer had spread, it usually was at stage II and beyond, hence the reason why the insurance company wasn’t going to pay for the scan at stage I. 

I thanked her and told her I was going to hold off on the scan for now.  It should be causing me reason to be happy, but I couldn’t process this is good news or bad news.  As the night progressed, I feel like it is a little of both- good that it does seem to be rare that the type of cancer I have would have spread into other organs this fast.  But bad, because I still don’t know with 100% accuracy, and chances are I won’t know for some time.

 One of my friend’s husband’s suggested that I call the insurance company and ask them firmly why they are not paying for this scan, even though my doctor ordered it.  I don’t have a ton of energy to “fight” the insurance company.  I am not Erin Brockovich right now, but I do think I can manage a call, or have one of my family members do it for me.

My dad, sisters, and I agreed that for now, it is probably best if we leave it on the back burner.  The results of the scan will not affect my upcoming surgery, and the probability of the cancer having spread, seems very, very low. 

However, I feel frustrated, and angry at the insurance company.  If a doctor orders a procedure for a patient, it should happen. The number one concern should be patient’s health.  Suppose I am that one rare case.  Treatment by the time they figure this out, will cost way more than the $2,000 plus dollars for the scan. It seems ridiculous and almost criminal that patients can’t take a proactive role in their health because they just haven’t gotten as sick as the insurance company thinks they should be.

I am tired, I am scared, I am drained, I am exhausted.  I am trying to take care of myself and my boys, while keeping a positive attitude.  I do not have the energy to take on an insurance company on top of trying to fight cancer.  This is wrong, and it sucks.  Much like cancer itself.

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Cancer Health Me

Cancer- A Range of Emotions

It has been six days since I found out the extent of the surgery I am facing for my thyroid and lymph node cancers.  Everyday the shock wears off a little more, but I think I am still in a state of disbelief.  Each day that  I have to think about it, is another day I have to think about it and live with cancer.   I want to stop thinking about it, but I can’t.  I can’t turn my brain off.

As far as the actual condition my body will be in after the surgery, I feel  like I can live with most of them. I can handle the pain.  I can handle a scar-even if it a U shaped one.  I can handle shoulder rehab.  I can handle being on a restricted diet for six weeks to prepare my body for the radioactive iodine.  I can handle gaining weight and becoming depressed because of this diet.  Of course, these aren’t things I want- but I can put my mind around them and realize in the grand scheme of things, they aren’t that bad.  With the help of my family and friends, I will get through it.

I can’t handle thinking about how I am going to be numb from my earlobes to my collar bone.  That makes me cry just thinking about it.  My boys hug me around my neck.  I like my neck rubbed.  I like my neck kissed, and it seems like a very big loss, to realize I am never going to feel those sensations again.   I realize it might not be as bad as I am thinking, and over time, I might gain some feeling back again.  But right now it is a causality that I have to mourn.

I have been terrified thinking about the surgery- those last few minutes that I am awake.  What if that is it for me?  What if I never wake up? 

When I do wake up, I am dreading being in the hospital for so long.  I have never been away from my boys for longer than three days.  I might have to be away from them from seven days.  That seems like a life-time.  I am so worried about what kind of toll this is having on them, and for me to go away for seven days- my heart breaks thinking about it. 

I have been wondering if the cancer is anywhere else in my body.   How do I know this hasn’t spread?  My dad suggested that I call my doctor and ask him.  I did on Monday.  They told me that the endocrinologist usually handles this aspect of the case.  But they recommended I have a PET CT Scan as soon as possible from my brain to my legs, to find out for sure so they can answer that question for me.  I am scheduled for this on Friday.

I let my mind go there for about half an hour on Monday- the major, “What if?”  What if the cancer is in the rest of my body?     

I feel like I am on auto-pilot.  Get through the days so I can go get the PET CT Scan, and then get through the days so I can have the results to that, and then get through the days to the pre-opt appointment, and then get through two more days to the surgery.  Somewhere in between there, I am trying to keep a positive attitude and be strong.  And hope, with everything that I have, that the cancer has not spread past my lymph nodes.

So I try to get through each hour.  I have stayed very busy.  I am exhausted but I keep going.  When it is quiet, and I don’t have enough to do, then the thoughts I don’t want to think about, start creeping in my mind.  I wish the surgery was tomorrow.  I think waiting around for that day to come, is one of the hardest parts.  I have to keep managing my emotions and thoughts until June 12th. 

But as bad as I feel at times, there has also been such an out-pouring of support and love.  I never imagined this- never imagined the small things so many people do for me every day, to help the day be a little better, and a little happier. 

I decided not to get a second opinion after talking to my family about it.  My aunt Laura, has been an intensive care cardiac nurse for over 20 years in for a major hospital in Denver.  Laura will tell you how it is- nicely of course- and sometimes not so nice.  🙂  When talking to her she came out and said it- I have cancer.  She said she had been looking at different treatment options besides surgery, and there aren’t any.  She said I have it, and I have to get it out- what my doctor proposed is the treatment, and it is effective. 

I told her I felt confident with what my doctor told me, and she told me that was half the battle- finding a surgeon you feel comfortable and confident with.   Laura says that affects the outcome of the surgery. I knew I had already found that doctor, and I felt happy I didn’t have to be searching for another doctor right now.  Laura spent a lot of time looking up information for me, and relating it to me in a non-medical way I could understand. 

One thing my doctor, Dr. S.,  told me I could do to be proactive before the surgery was get an appointment with an endocrinologist.  Dr. S., gave me the name of the endocrinologist, Dr. M.,  his wife sees, who also has thyroid cancer.  I felt my time would be better spent doing this, than trying to find another doctor to look at my case, and end up telling me the same thing anyway. 

I was told when I called Dr. M, that he was too booked up and he was not going to be able to take me as a patient.  I was getting motivated to try to find another one, when his office called me today and said Dr. S., had called them and told them he had referred me.  They told me I could meet with an associate doctor of Dr. M’s., for the initial appointment and then from that point on, Dr. M., would be my endocrinologist.  They told me as long as the doctor met with me before six weeks post-opt, that was fine.  I have an appointment in July- a few days shy of the six-week mark.  I am not sure what changed, but I am thankful that Dr. S., made the referral for me, and I am now a patient of endocrinologist I wanted. 

As far as my neck, my sister, Mara, told me her knee has been numb for 12 years-ever since her knee surgery.  She says she can’t feel a very light touch on her knee, but she feels pain on it.  She said the numbing would get better.  My sister-in-law, Kat’s, left side of her back is numb from back surgery she had ten years ago.  Evidently I will fit right in. 

My friends Amy, and Kathie, helped me find a great relaxation meditation CD for surgery.  I have been listening to this since Sunday night, and I am falling asleep much easier, and I am starting to feel calmer about the surgery. 

As far as Ryan and Cole go, all I can do is love them and tell them that.  I tell them that much more than I used to.  I am also receiving a lot more hugs and kisses from them.  They know I am going to the hospital and we talk about that.  I keep it very light and very basic with them.  But,  I feel it is very important that they know why I am going to be away from them, where I am going, and that I am going to be just fine.  My children don’t need to know every detail about my health and they are not at an age where they can comprehend it all.  But they do know that Mommy has to have an operation at the hospital, and they deserve to have their questions and feelings answered and acknowledged. 

My family and friends have been there to listen to me talk about my fears about  all of this- the good, the bad, and everything in between,  In the end, they all tell me I am going to be fine.  In my heart I believe that. 

I have realized during these last six days, I do have a choice- I can choose to be depressed and sad, or I can choose to be hopeful and positive.  No matter how many bad days I have between now and then.  No matter how scared I am.  No matter how much I wish this wasn’t happening.  I am going to beat this cancer and be healthy again- no matter what.    

Once you choose hope, anything’s possible.  ~Christopher Reeve