Kairol Rosenthal's latest blog entry inspired me to write about waiting. Waiting is terrible, on all facets. It eats away at your sanity. Right now, that's all my family is doing. Waiting. Trying to busy ourselves hardly covers up the fact that we all are worried. Even me, the one who has been there, done that.
I want it over with, because I know my mother is anxious. I know she wants it to just happen. She told me earlier today that she was hoping that our surgeon's office would call today saying that his Tuesday patient canceled and wanted my mother to come in and have her operation done then. My heart almost leaped into my throat. Just the thought of what is coming makes me sick to my stomach.
Mom told me last week sometime that our surgeon talked to her about what the surgery would be like and what her scar would be. He said that he would make it like a half-smile type deal; it starts at the base of the throat on the right side, then travels to the left and curves upward toward the back of the ear. Fabulous. My surgeon told me when I had to receive my second surgery that he wanted to do two incisions instead of the one because I was "too young for that scar."
This irritates me. Isn't my mother too young for that, too? I know he'll do a fabulous job and make it almost invisible by the time it's fully healed, but it can be an ugly scar. I've seen people with that kind of incision, and it doesn't always look that pretty. It scares me. I thought about it today, and I wish that I could go back to when he was about to do the surgery and tell him I want that scar. I want it because my mother would get it, too. I didn't want her to suffer from that scar alone. If it meant that my mother didn't have to feel as intimidated by it, I would have insisted upon it, hands down.
Even right now she's talking about how she hopes there's a cancellation on Tuesday morning so that she can just get the surgery done. To be honest, I doubt I'll even be ready to watch this happen. I still have to pinch myself every day to make sure this is really happening.
I can only hope I can be as strong as my mother was when she had to take care of me. I don't plan on letting her down.
Like Daughter, Like Mother: Our Thyroid Cancer Journey
Behind the Blog
Adelina is a full-time wife, mother, practice manager, and medical transcriptionist. After receiving an ultrasound and countless biopsies, she was diagnosed with papillary thyroid cancer on December 11, 2009. She successfully underwent surgery on December 29, 2009, and had her first radioactive iodine treatment in February 2010. Following treatment, Adelina now sees her doctor once a year for follow-up. She has been doing well, and refuses to let cancer slow her down.
Dori is 26 years old. She was diagnosed with papillary thyroid cancer at the age of 17 on June 1, 2006, just three days prior to her high school graduation. Dori endured two radioactive iodine treatments and two surgeries to remove her complete thyroid and 39 total lymph nodes from her neck. She is now under close watch by her doctors, and only time will tell if the cancer stays at bay.