Thursday, May 15, 2014
Step One: Discover there's a problem
I guess I thought all the head shrinkers I see on the regular were enough or something.
The first part of the appointment went very much like every doctor's appointment I can remember: he told me to quit smoking, lose weight, and keep being awesome.
Then came the touchy feely part.
Attired in a super fancy paper gown and my knickers, I waited patiently for the doctor to stop palpating my neck and start listening to me breathe.
Only he palpated. And palpated.
And then said, "How long have you had this lump?"
I responded with "What lump?" and then the discussion began.
I've a lump in my neck. While it's probable that it's my thyroid, he was also concerned that it was so large and not as uniform in shape as he'd expect.
So, tomorrow I'm headed in for an ultrasound, possible CT scan, and some bloodwork.
I was doing a relatively decent job not freaking: I knew WebMD would tell me I had died last week, so I avoided it. I verified that hypothyroidism is treatable with medicine, something I'm an expert at taking, and that was the extent of my research. Looking for answers when you don't yet know the question is the surest route to madness. This I've learned the hard way, so this time I was determined to take the wait and see approach.
Until I went to see my head shrinker the day after my appointment with the medical doctor, and we went over the labwork she'd ordered about a month ago. I'm vitamin D deficient and my cholesterol is a little high, but my thyroid is functioning beautifully, according to the bloodwork.
So, why's that bad? Well, it's good for my thyroid, but that means it's more likely that the mass I can see, now that I'm aware of it, isn't my thyroid as the bloodwork, in all likelihood, would have been abnormal, and mine wasn't.
Even though it's tempting, I still haven't jumped head first on the cancer train, so I'm trying to mantain some semblance of composure over the whole thing, but here's the deal:
Whether it actually is my thyroid, a benign tumor, cancerous, or some sort of cyst, it's not going to be a good thing. I'm not going to be able to ignore it or pretend it isn't there- it's causing me to be hoarse and if it continues to grow unchecked, will undoubtedly cut off my air supply. The severity and course of treatment will vary depending on the diagnosis, but it's never going to be like a doctor feels you up and says "Oh, you have a growth! Congratulations, you're getting xray vision and the power of flight!"
There's never a time when having a lump or bump or mass in a place where you haven't always and aren't meant to is a nice surprise.
That's pretty much bullshit, if you ask me.
If we have to worry and wait and wonder, we ought to at least have the tiniest fragment of a possibility that something good might be behind our anxiety.
Like, when someone tells you "We need to talk," it's almost never a good thing, but every once in a while they want to tell you that you've won the lottery or something. Having some sort of extra bit somewhere on your body will never be like that.
It's not always deadly, it's not always painful, it's not always incurable. But it's never welcomed as a fun surprise.
And that's bananas.