Tag: thyroid cancer

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Cancer Health Running

Running to Defeat Cancer- A Year Later

A year ago, after recovering from thyroid cancer, I decided I wanted to support others who were fighting cancer.  I signed up for the Komen Denver Race for the Cure, supporting breast cancer.  I had never run in a race before, and didn’t particularly like running.  But I felt very thankful for the fast recovery I had from my own cancer, and figured it was the least I could do.  

My doctors told me it could be a year recovery before I’d even start to feel “back to normal” again.  My doctors warned me it was a very gradual upswing, and not to expect to feel better for a long time.  If you have followed my cancer journey on my blog, or know me in real life, you know that this was not the case for me.  As soon as I was on Synthroid, I felt the difference in hours.  To date, I still have not had to have one medication adjustment, which is almost unheard of.  My surgeon, who warned me of how hard the recovery was, and who has been treating thyroid cancer patients for 17 years, including his own wife, told me he had never seen someone recover as fast, with zero complications, like I have.  He told me I was a bit of a medical miracle. 

When I wrote my blog post last year, deciding I was going to run in the Race for the Cure, I was thankful I was doing so well.  A year later and a year wiser, I am more thankful and grateful than I can express.  I have no idea why I recovered so well. I am still in contact with a few people who had thyroid cancer surgeries the same time I did, and are still trying to get their thyroid replacement medication right, so they can start to feel back normal again. 

Running in this race last year was very healing for me.  I didn’t feel like I was a sick cancer patient, but I felt strong.  I felt like I was on the right path for recovery. I had no idea at the time if my recovery was going to “last” or if I would experience the problems and complications my doctors had warned me about.  It had been less than two months since I completed radioactive iodine therapy and had started on Synthroid.  But I was so optimistic I was able to train for this race and run in it. I had a lot of support and encouragement and I still remember while running it- for the first time, in a long time- I felt alive, well, and healthy.

I was hoping to finish the race in under 40 minutes, and finished in 36:25.  The race is self timed, and there are no official results.  But crossing that finish line was monumental for me.  I wasn’t sick with cancer anymore- I was a cancer survivor.  And that day, I became a runner.

I was hooked. I loved it.  I loved every second I was running the race. I loved the adrenaline, I loved the strategy, I loved I was smiling through the race, I loved pushing myself, I loved trying to pass the person ahead of me, and then trying to keep someone from passing me.  I loved the fact that I could actually do something as physically challenging as running.  I loved the fact that I was proving that cancer wasn’t going to define my life.  When it was over, I loved the fact that I had accomplished something just weeks ago, had seemed impossible. 

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I know now what I loved most about that race.  I moved from surviving cancer, to healing from cancer. Two very different mind sets.  I never looked back at being a cancer survivor- I started focusing on healing from cancer, and being the strongest person I could be- mentally and physically. So the Komen Dennver Race for the Cure means the world to me.  It put me on the path to heal from cancer.  It helps breast cancer patients who have to fight a much harder fight, for much longer than I ever did. 

I am running in the 5K again this year on October 3rd in Denver.  I am well trained for this race, and plan on going for my personal (unofficial) fastest 5K time.  I can’t think of a better 5K race where I would like to achieve a personal best.  But just to be there again- strong, healthy, able to run, and cancer free is a gift.  It’s a precious gift not everyone gets, and one that I am aware of every time I run.  So I am going to give it my all, and run it the strongest I can.  For myself and for all the cancer patients and survivors who can’t.

Last year I entered this race as a cancer survivor and ran.  This year I am entering this race as a runner, who happens to be a cancer survivor.  This is the spirit of the Komen Race for the Cure. I encourage all my readers to make a donation to the Race for the Cure, or better yet- sign up to walk or run in your local race.  You can find a list of races here. 

If you would like to make a donation in my name, to help raise money for breast cancer, you can click here.  Thank you!  🙂

Categories
Cancer Choose You Health Running

Resting & Choosing You

Last Saturday, June 12th, was the one year anniversary of my thyroid cancer and neck dissection surgery.  A few months ago, I had a goal- a definite way I wanted to “mark” this day.  I was going to run in a tough half marathon in the mountains of Estes Park, Colorado.  Although I have run a half marathon distance before (13.1 miles) it would have been my first half marathon race.  I thought if I could run a mountain terrain half marathon at an elevation of 7,000+ feet, it would be an excellent foundation to build on for a full marathon. 

I would have had to put in some major training, and if you read my last post, it was obvious it wasn’t going to happen.  I thought a lot about the two races I’ve missed now, because of the time I needed to rest and regroup-physically and mentally.  It is hard missing out on a goal you really want to achieve, when your body won’t let you. 

Thinking back on my surgery from last year, it is amazing to me how much my body has been through, and really-that I can even push it to the limits I do.  I still have shoulder pain from the nerves they had to move in my neck, to get to my lymph nodes.  I’ve recently been told I need to have physical therapy on my shoulder because the muscles are so shortened and out of place.  I hardly notice the pain anymore, and this arm feels just as strong to me as my other arm, which was not affected by the surgery. In just a year-365 days-my body has made a remarkable recovery. 

But I have realized over the last month, I can’t expect my body to recover from a major surgery, heal from cancer, process radioactive iodine, function with almost 100 less lymph nodes, kill off microscopic cancer cells, adjust to thyroid hormones, be a mom, daughter, sister, friend, employee, deal with enormous amounts of stress through a divorce and losing a parent, and push physically as hard as it ever has, and not expect to ever be tired and need a break. 

I missed two goals I really wanted to accomplish, but I have also gained something I never would have otherwise.  Perspective.  My body last month was telling me it needed to rest.  I am glad I listened, because I think it will make me a better and stronger runner overall. 

Last Thursday, I finally had a run where I had a consistent pace again, some distance, and I wasn’t tired.  I had a bit of knee pain still, which I am convinced, is tied into running somehow.  It only started hurting a little over a month ago, when I was running.  I noticed the knee pain, before I tuned into how my body was feeling.  I hiked two weekends ago almost 10 miles on a tough trail, carrying 20+ pounds of equipment, and I had no knee pain whatsoever over the course of two days.  It might sound silly, but on that hiking trip, I decided when my knee didn’t hurt when I ran, the time would be right to come back to race training.  

On Monday I ran.  I wanted to run fast.  I wanted to run a shorter distance and see how it went.  I ran at a fast pace so I had to work, but I did not go “all out.”  I ran on grass, which is harder to run on.  I felt good.  I ended up with one of my fastest times ever for the distance in a training run.   There was only a tingle of knee pain.    

And so, I am beginning again.  I am going to gradually and consistently push forward.  I have a new short-term goal I will write about next week. 

I’ve learned a lot in the last year, but over the last month I have learned one of the most important lessons:  Sometimes by not doing anything, listening to your body, and just being, is the best way to choose you.

(Cross posted at Choose You Blog– a new campaign by The American Cancer Society to help encourage and support women to put their health first in the fight against cancer.)

Categories
Cancer Family & Friends Health losing a parent Mothering

Cancer Surgery- One Year Later

One year ago today, I underwent a thyroidectomy (complete removal of the thyroid) surgery, and a neck dissection to remove almost all of the lymph nodes in my neck, because I had cancer.  (You can read more about the surgery here, After Thyroid Cancer Surgery. I have posted some other pictures at the end of this post, I thought may be helpful to others who are facing a similar surgery.)

A lot has happened during the past year.  At the time it was my biggest challenge.  Cancer is a big deal.  Even thyroid cancer, which most every doctor will say is the “best” cancer to have is a major, life changing event.  I haven’t talked to one thyroid cancer survivor yet, who hasn’t experienced some type of problem, or issue with their recovery.  For me, it was a mistake the endocrinologist’s office made, and I ended up without any thyroid replacement hormone (usually synthroid) for three months.  I developed severe hypothyroidism.  There were some days, I could not physically get out of bed, and I felt like I was 100 years old.  I had extreme pain from the surgery still, and I was confused, exhausted, and I could barely function. A year later, the left side of my neck is numb, and I still have shoulder pain. 

I receive e-mail’s weekly from other thyroid cancer survivors who are on synthroid, but the dosage is wrong, and they are experiencing hypothyroidism.  It paralyzes your life, and for me, the surgery ended up being the “easy” part.  When any organ is removed from your body, and a drug has take over the function, there are going to be complications.  Fortunately for me, when I finally was able to take synthroid, after radioactive iodine (RAI), my dosage was correct the first time.  I felt better hours after I took it.  One year later, I still have not had to have an adjustment in the dosage.  My doctors tell me this is extremely rare.  However, I still feel like I lost three months of my life.  Time with my boys, I will never get back. 

Four months after my surgery, I started running.  I was going to run in one 5K race- the Race for the Cure for breast cancer.  I enjoyed it, and it gave me a new appreciation for my health and fitness.  I think it is very important to become active as soon as you can.  It helped me get out of a “cancer patient” mode, and on to the next stage, which is a new life- cancer free.  Running made me strong again, physically and mentally.  I could not have known at the time, how strong I was going to have to be, in the very near future.

At the time I was diagnosed with cancer, I had been separated from my husband for three months, and in the process of divorce.  It was not an easy divorce to say the least.  There was a small “break” if you can call it that, while I was recovering, but after the RAI treatment, the divorce continued, adding an enormous amount of stress to my life.  I had a friend tell me after cancer, getting divorced would seem like a vacation, but this sadly, was not the case.  There wasn’t anything I could do, except plow through it until it was over.  The divorce was finalized last month, at the end of May.  Divorce was far harder emotionally than cancer had been.  

But the hardest thing- harder than cancer or divorce- was the unexpected death of my mother in February of this year.  It is the most devastating thing to lose a parent.  My mom came out last July (she lived out of state), a few weeks after my cancer surgery, to help me recover.  At this point,  I had hypothyroidism, and she took care of me, and Ryan and Cole during my parenting time.  It was one of the last times we had together.  I saw her for a few days at Christmas, and then I watched her die.   

Her friends all came to visit her, and they told me how utterly worried and scared my mom had been over my cancer.  My mom had never let on to me she felt that way.  She had always been so strong- always telling me I was going to beat cancer, and I was a very healthy person.  Her friends also told me how distressed she had been over my divorce-over the tactics that were being used, and the high stress I was under.  Again, she never let me know she was feeling like this.  She gave me strength and encouragement to keep going.  She told me all the stress the divorce was bringing to me was like cancer itself.  I could let it consume me, or I could fight, and beat the stress- knowing there would be a bright future when it was all over. 

I had seven days with my mom, while she died.  A day and a half later after I had returned home from her death, I had to jump right back in to divorce mode, and meet with a child family investigator (CFI) and a forensic psychologist for interviews and psychological testing.  These interviews and tests would result in parenting recommendations for the judge in the divorce case to consider.  This was in March, and cancer seemed like it happened a million years ago.

Now it is a year later from that day.  A year ago, I thought having cancer was one of the worst things that could happen to me.  Over the last year, I have learned-harshly-there are worst things than cancer. 

I remember thinking if I could get through this cancer, I could get through anything.  In a way I was right.  It turns out, cancer was the “easiest” of the three things I faced during the past year. 

I would not have gotten through any of this without my family and friends.  I hope I tell you enough how much I appreciate and love you all.  You are the ones who got me through this past year.  From the moment I checked into the hospital a year ago, to just the last few days- thank you for being there for me when I needed you.

For anyone who is reading this, who has just found out they have cancer, is going to have to have cancer surgery, or is recovering from thyroid cancer, there will be good days and bad days.  Don’t let the bad days devestate you.  Cancer changes a lot about your life, but you also have an opportunity to really see a lot of love and support around you.  It teaches you to let go of the small stuff, and to just enjoy the days you are given. 

Some of these days will be dark.  Some of these days you are going to have to fight with every ounce of strength you have just to get to the next hour.  Some of these days you will have to let other people help you, because you won’t be able to do it all.  Some of these days, you will have to let things go, and be okay with just being.  Some of these days you will question if it is even really worth it.  When you realize, without a doubt, yes it is- then the clouds start to fade away.  Instead of feeling weak, you feel strong.  Instead of feeling sorry for yourself, you feel grateful you are alive.  Instead of feeling guilty, you feel content.  Then you will know in your soul you have beaten cancer, and it is far from the end- it is your new beginning.

 

One day after surgery, recovering in intensive care, 6-13-2009

My scar, seven days after surgery, 6-19-2009

My scar, one year after surgery, 6-12-2010

6-12-2010

Categories
Cancer Health Me

Facing My Health Fears

As the last week of 2009 starts, I am struggling with a few health matters I keep putting off.

I “fired” my endocrinologist in November.  I was supposed to have a follow-up apppointment 4 weeks after I started on Synthroid to make sure my dosage was correct, which means I should have been seen in September.  However, they couldn’t fit me in until November.  Fortunately, I had a follow-up appointment with my surgeon in October, and he was able to order the test and confirm my dosage was correct. 

After the errors that the endocrinologist’s office made after my surgery in the summer, I lost a lot of confidence in them.  They did get my initial dosage correct though- the first time, which is almost unheard of.  I was told it could take almost a year for my dosage of Synthroid to be fined tuned.  Several thyroid cancer survivors I know have had their dosages adjusted no less than 6 times, and one person has told me her dosage has been adjusted 12 times in less than a year.

When I knew my dosage was correct in October, I called my endocrinologist’s office and canceled my appointment for November and told them I was going to find a different doctor closer to my home.  I told them I was disappointed with the errors they made, but thankful they were able to determine my correct dosage so accurately. 

So here I am- almost two months later and I haven’t started a search, or let alone been in to see a new endocrinologist.  My surgeon recommended two at the health clinic in town, who he said were trained at the facility of my former endocrinologist.  It would be very easy for me to call and get an appointment, and yet I find myself hesitating. 

Last week I received a reminder postcard from my doctor’s office for my annual exam.  I am due to see her in January.  This was the appointment where she first felt an abnormality in my thyroid last year.  I have put off scheduling that appointment too, because I’m nervous.  I know in reality, the chances of any other major health issue being discovered, is very slim, and I know early detection is the key to everything.  But again, I am hesitating.

I feel like I have just put all the cancer and health issues behind me, and these appointments are reminders that I have to start thinking about it again.  It also is like a  bright flashing light into a dark room, reminding me there are no guarantees, and anything can happen.  I might think I am in good health, and everything is fine, only to discover I have an illness that is out of my control.  The thought has entered my mind more than once- what if they find I have another type of cancer?

I have never been nervous or afraid doctor appointments- I used to like going, to hear everything was fine.  I am not sure  I will ever have that feeling again.  I’m not sure if I will always hear everything is fine anymore.  Not scheduling these appointments means I don’t  have to deal with these feelings right now.   

But yet, by not dealing with these feelings, and not making the appointments, the uncertainty stays with me, and my fears grow- not occupying my thoughts, but just below the surface.  It settles in my mind when I am falling asleep, or it is the first thing I think of when I wake up- am I really okay, or has it been a mistake?

The only way to find out for sure, and to get rid of this doubt is to just make and go the appointments.  I promised myself I would make the appointments before the end of the year, so I now have four days left.  Despite my fears, I know this is a promise I have to keep.     

Categories
ACS Blogger Advisory Council Cancer

Bloggers for More Birthdays

MoreBirthdays_blogbadge

One of the first things I’ve been asked to do as a member of the American Cancer Society Blogger Advisory Council is to dedicate a blog post to someone I love with cancer.  The first “person” who came into my mind was all of my blog readers who have thyroid cancer and have written to me with their stories. 

I could write about Holly who is 37, and a mom of three, who after having a thyroidectomy in September, and radioactive iodine last month, is facing the possibility her cancer has spread into her lymph nodes.  Holly had been told her lymph nodes were fine, but they discovered an area of high iodine intake.  If this spot turns out to be lymph nodes, Holly could be facing another surgery to remove them. 

Or I could write about Patricia who is also 37, and a mom of two.  During the past year, Patricia had a huge lump in her neck and with the urging of her children’s father, she decided to follow up on it. It turned out to be a 6.5 inch goiter.  She had a biopsy done on October 15th, and found out early this month it is cancer.  Patricia is facing a thyroidectomy surgery within the next two months. 

There is Nicholas, who is a physician with three small children, who had a thyroidectomy and a neck dissection in June.  He is still having drainage and medication issues. 

These are just three people out of the many who write me about their experiences with thyroid cancer.  A common theme in many of their letters, is they are looking for support and someone who understands what they are going through.  Despite their cancer, and challenges, these cancer patients and survivors continue on in with their lives.  They are there for their children and spouses.  They are there for their parents who have medical issues themselves, and for the others that rely on them.  Most importantly, they continue on for themselves. 

I have never met Holly, Patricia, or Nicholas, or many of the other people who have written me.  But I admire and love their spirits of determination and knowledge that they will beat their cancer and will be healthy to be around for countless birthdays.  Just the fact that they are sharing their stories, shows that they have taken control of their cancer, so they can fight it. 

Anyone can join the American Cancer Society in the effort to celebrate More Birthdays.  Just dedicate a blog post to someone you love who has been affected by cancer and celebrate them.  You can check out other posts on the American Cancer Society’s Birthday Blog for inspiration. 

Birthdays are good!  Let’s have as many of them as we can!