Why do I think that my life is about to become semi-normal? God does not play that game! I say this in pleasant jest, of course.

I'm with Mom on this one. It is very daunting. And to think, years ago cancer was the hush-hush "C" word. The one people feared. The one people did not want to hear uttered to them. It's funny how time changes so rapidly.

Up next: my aunt and cousin. Yay, just keep piling 'em on! Let's see how many family members we can draw into the cancer team. Round 'em up!

I'm getting sick of this. Really, I am. Familial papillary carcinoma cluster? Jeez, why don't you just nuke us with radiation? May as well! I mean, we get it. It's in our family. Do they really have to keep getting diagnosed? Do they?! Reliving this day in and day out, thinking about it constantly, wondering who the next victim is... I'm just mad. I'm very mad. Can I be mad? Because I am. Cancer sucks. Cancer is evil. It's like a snake. It sneaks in and takes over when you least expect it.

I'm doing my best to go about my daily life. I just can't help but think about this all the time. I'm student teaching now; I'm trying to graduate in May. I am trying so hard to juggle all of this in my head. Oy!

Yesterday, Anna Marie asked me why I hadn’t been blogging. So sister-sister, this one is for you.

Truth is, although I am trying to stay as positive as possible, I’m feeling a bit defeated. Now, with my sister and niece facing surgery, this cancer thing has grown too huge, too fast. And it’s scary…to say the least.

I’m also sad for my sister, the true matriarch of our family. She called me every day and sometimes many times a day throughout my ordeal with thyroid cancer. She remained so upbeat and positive that, at times, it was almost contagious. She reminded me often that I should be grateful that my cancer was found, that I was in the hands of amazing doctors and surgeons, that I was stronger than I knew, and that, in the end, I would be okay. Sister-sister, if you are reading this, ditto back to you.

Yes, it is daunting. Cancer is an incredibly frightening word. An almost unbelievable word in our family. Heart disease, yes. Diabetes, yes. The word cancer just hadn’t been in our family vocabulary. Until now.

Because of all of our diagnoses, the doctors feel that we are dealing with a familial papillary thyroid cancer cluster – a very rare occurence for which, unfortunately, specific genetic testing is not yet available. We need to focus on what we can do today, and that is to encourage each other to get an ultrasound and be diligent about follow-up. All in all, it is still a very curable cancer.

In 9 days, it will be Anna Marie’s turn to have surgery. I plan to stay with her and give her as much support and care as she needs – just as she has always done for me. I’d like to say that “it’s getting old”, but quite frankly it’s still major surgery and each time one of us goes through it, the others worry as if it’s the first time. I know that my sister will do fine. She has the same incredible surgeon as me, Dori, and Janina. She’s healthy and she’s strong. But most importantly, she has an absolutely unshakable spiritual strength...and that will see her through.

I went with my husband Merril for his screening colonoscopy today. He’s been putting this off for three years now. He says there are just some things that he would rather not do, and I think that having a colonoscopy was pretty high on his list. I don’t see why. It’s the best sleep you’ll ever have, and when you wake up there are no remnants of anything having taken place. No marks, no incisions, no scars, no fuss, no muss. And if the preparation for it doesn’t kill you, the colonoscopy certainly won’t.

You are probably wondering why I’m even bringing this up. Sure doesn’t have anything to do with thyroid cancer, does it? Well, while spending two hours in the waiting room, I started thinking about the very simple and painless (or practically painless) things that we can do to keep the cancer thing at bay, or at least at a minimum when there is a better chance that it can be fixed or cured completely. I guess the thinking is that it’s better not to know. No one likes bad news…so true. But I think there are degrees of “bad”. We all know that so many illnesses can be successfully treated if found at the beginning stages.

I was one of those people who just didn’t want to know. Now, I would race into the room and jump up on the table to have a test or procedure done that could potentially result in a cure. It took finding out that I had cancer to feel this way. I tended to make up excuses for feeling the way that I felt, and even worse, diagnosing myself – which is never a good idea. I’ve worked for doctors for over 15 years, but that certainly doesn’t qualify me to make any medical judgement with regard to my health.

I will never put off a mammography, colonoscopy, routine check-up, or blood test again. I feel fortunate to have found my thyroid cancer, and I am thrilled that my children, brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephews are being so proactive in pursuing the possibility that they may have it as well. I know it’s scary for them, and I know all too well that sometimes fear can stop you dead in your tracks. But they are courageously moving forward and doing what they know they need to do.

They say that there is strength in numbers. This must be true, because as our numbers are climbing it has only made us more determined as a family to not only fight this disease, but to find out how it came to be in the first place. Familial papillary thyroid cancer clusters are very rare. My family will probably never know with whom it started, but you can bet that we will work together to keep a handle on it going forward.

Warning: I'm about to go on a very brief, off-topic rant of revelation.

How in the world did I not think to explore Pandora before?! It is absolutely amazing! I typed in "Michael Buble" and I got all this amazing, blissful music that is totally mellowing me out right now. I am so stoked; I think this will be my new addiction for music. :-) Click the link above for instant spectacular-ness. (I am sure my brother will laugh at me and pull the "I told you so!" card as soon as he reads this.)

Okay, I'm done with that. ;-)

There really is not much to report at this point. All of the fun stuff has already come to pass, and by fun stuff I mean the most dramatic and tormenting stuff. So right now, there is not much to say about everything that has not already been said. I am accepting the whole situation with Janina, and beginning to understand that thyroid cancer may just be a genetic thing with our family. After a little bit of research, we found out that Cowden Syndrome does not apply to our family because we do not have the primary symptoms. So, odds are we have a gene that has been passed down through my mother's family (unsure of which grandparent it came from). That gene has not been found yet, so we really cannot be genetically tested just yet.

I will end with some lyrics with which Dean Martin is presently serenading me:

Like the fella once said,

"Ain't that a kick in the head?"

...

Like the sailor said quote,

My head is still throbbing from yesterday. I can spare you the details since Dori has already shared most of it in her recent posts.

It’s like I said before, “never assume, and expect the unexpected”.

I certainly didn’t expect that Janina’s results would prove to be worse (for lack of a better word) than mine; as was the case with Dori, too. At 53, I’m definitely a lot closer to having reached the age of falling apart, and I certainly didn’t expect to have the least difficult road with regard to this thyroid thing.

But what’s worse than not expecting it, is not wanting it. These are my babies, my girls, my daughters. I’ve lived more life than they have. I’ve dealt with adversity before. I can take this and a lot more too! For Pete’s sake, let the punches be thrown my way, not theirs. Isn’t that what being a mother is all about? Wishing for yourself that which you don’t want to see happen to your children.

I guess for me, that is not to be.

My sister’s biopsy results came in today. All nodes are benign with the exception of one, which is “inconclusive”. Anna Marie will see the endocrinologist tomorrow to find out what happens next.

Had my first followup with the endocrinologist yesterday; and will have my first post-surgical followup tomorrow. RAI in about a month with Thyrogen shots for two days prior.

Sometimes, it doesn’t feel quite real. A matter of too much too soon, I think. It can actually be a little maddening. At times, I have to calm my mind and remind myself that me and my daughters are blessed to be in the hands of such skilled doctors. We each came through a major surgery very successfully. We continue to get up each day and do what we would normally do. We laugh together. We compare and admire each other’s scars. We remind each other that we will be okay.

How lucky we are.

I really should be writing a paper due tomorrow for my minimester class right now, but I really cannot seem to get my crazy self to start on it. So, instead, I want to clear something up.

I know most of our beloved readers did not take what I wrote in my previous blog entry out of context. But, I do want to clarify it for those who might have.

In my last entry, I stated that Michael and Mom got the better end of the stick. One surgery, one treatment (hopefully on Mom's part), then done. Whereas me and my sister got the short end, since our cancer spread and it might (hopefully not) be a tougher battle for Janina than Mom and Michael. I basically said a bunch of crap.

Cancer is cancer. No one has an easier battle than the other. It's all in perception. If Person A has to go through chemo while Person B does not, how can anyone say that Person B had an easier battle?

I have had a difficult time with this lately. Not only have I been comparing myself to other cancer survivors, but I have been comparing the lot of us within my family as well. Half the time I say to myself, "Why am I even part of I'm Too Young For This? I never had to go through chemo; I never had to lose my hair. I barely ever got sick from treatment. These people are survivors, not me." But, whoever I say that to within i[2]y always tell me, "You had cancer. You are a survivor. No one has a tougher battle than another person." They are so right. I can't help but make my comparisons, though. I always end up losing in my mind.

I apologize to you all, especially to my family. More specifically, to Mom, Janina, and Michael. How dare I say that I had it harder than you, Mom and Michael. And how dare I make a judgment about Janina's future when it has not even happened yet, if it even will. All of us had it hard; cancer affects everyone in different ways. We all have to suffer from the fact that we have a disease.

I'm sure that whomever is reading this thinks that I am punishing myself too harshly about the blog entry. I really am not; I just want people to understand that I did make a big error in judgment. I do not want to come off as someone who assumes that just because someone had less surgeries or less treatment, it does not mean that they had it easier.

On a better note, I am very excited to start student teaching next week. I cannot wait to see my students again! It will be wonderful. I just hope that I can get everything done and also help my Mom and sister get through their treatments.

Bring it on! I take after my family; I'm up for a good challenge.

One of the greatest lessons that I’ve learned from this whole thyroid cancer experience has been to assume nothing and expect the unexpected.  Maybe that’s two lessons, but no matter.

When Dori was diagnosed with thyroid cancer back in 2006, I never expected that I would get it too. I might have even had it at that time. But, I didn’t think about getting scanned. No one mentioned it, and I didn’t worry about it. I just thought that Dori was an unfortunate statistic, having one of the 5% of thyroid nodules that turn out to be cancerous. With those odds, why worry?

When I started having discomfort on swallowing, I didn’t assume it was thyroid cancer. I had surgery back in 2002 for a thyroglossal duct cyst and thought that perhaps it had grown back. I didn’t rush to the doctor’s office. And when I did see my doctor, I mentioned my symptoms only casually.

Janina was totally asymptomatic; but because her sister and mother both had thyroid cancer, her odds shot up considerably. And because we three have it, the rest of the family is at greater risk.

Not one of us assumed. Not one of us expected.

As it relates to life in general, this lesson serves me well. In order to try to avoid the unexpected, I know that I must take care of my body and be diligent about medical care. I cannot assume that a family member's disease is just a fluke; even a remote possibility is worth exploring.

If you are reading this, I hope that you agree.

I'm with Mom on this one. I can't wait to see that geneticist. I want to know where the heck this is coming from. These are some mysterious ways, indeed.

We want answers. The lot of us, including our friends. But, you know, if we do get a "why," I think we will be so unbelievably lucky. Not a lot of people get definite answers, especially if it's a "fluke" or something that isn't "the norm" in the family. Cancer happens. So do a lot of other diseases and disabilities. Sometimes it's a moot point to ask, "Why?" Not often are we given the privilege to find out.

My family keep saying to peope that they think I saved their lives. While I appreciate the sentiment and the true meaning behind that opinion, I cannot possibly agree. I love my family. It settles my stomach knowing that they all are aware of their health and want to nip this junk in the bud, but I did nothing to "save" them. They are taking matters into their own hands, and I am so proud of each of them for doing that for themselves and their loved ones. Each of them had a choice: either get tested and be aware and proactive in their active health, or do nothing and avoid it. It takes a lot of courage to do what each of them are doing, and I couldn't be more proud.

So, yay, we're at 50 blog posts! Thanks to all of our friends, family, coworkers, etc. The list goes on. I don't say "readers" because honestly, I consider you all my friends. Everyone who reads this blog is walking this journey with us, and I can feel each presence. I'm so pleased that our blog has reached so many people, and I can't wait to see what the next 50 bring. :)

Many blessings to you of happiness, love, and, most importantly, health.

Took dinner to Janina’s house this evening. It was good to see her back in the comfort of her own home. The house was overflowing with flowers and gifts from family and friends. Her aunts and cousins brought homemade meals for the family – ham, macaroni and cheese, baked ziti, garlic bread, salad, chocolate pudding and whipped cream…a virtual feast. Homemade meals are such a wonderful gift, and will give Janina one less thing to have to think about.

I watched her and wondered if I looked like that my second day from surgery. She moved very deliberately and carefully. Bandages were off and she admitted to having a difficult time looking at her incisional scar. Although she looked relieved that the surgery was behind her, she seemed somewhat sad, which I think is a combination of having to face reality of it all and the uncertainty of what’s yet to come. Everything happened so quickly for Janina. Within a week of her own diagnosis, she was in the operating room. That’s a lot for anyone’s physical and emotional self to digest.

Tomorrow morning I will be going with my sister, Anna Marie, to the endocrinologist to assess whether her nodules need to be biopsied. It is my guess that they will, but we’ll see. 

I can’t wait until we see the genetics doctor. I really hope she can shed some light on all of this. I guess I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t sometimes feel tired and disgusted by it all. Living with it is one thing; not knowing why is another. I’m ready for the why. I’m hoping that the why will help protect future generations of my family, and others as well. 

Bring on the why.

Well, another (and hopefully the LAST) surgery done. Janina was fantastic, as always. She was positive and firm about what she wanted and didn't want for her surgery, and she was not backing down. When she told the RN she didn't want any pain medication, the nurse looked at her like, "Are you nuts?" I couldn't help but smirk a little, because I knew that the lot of us would have given them hell if they went against Janina's wishes.

It was easier this time around with Janina, but it was harder at the same time. If anything happens to my sister, I always get really mad and upset, because she's just so good! She's a beautiful, strong, lovely woman who doesn't take any crap. She's worked her whole life for everything she has, and she never takes any of it for granted. Janina loves her family and friends with all her heart, and, God, is her heart big. I hated seeing her in that hospital gown, tired with a headache from not eating since 8:30pm the previous night. I had to look away at times because I saw myself in that chair and wished I was in it instead of her. Once everyone came out when she was taken back, I was relieved. I wanted it over and done with for her. She was anxious about getting it done. And now it's done. Time for recovery, then soon enough both Mom and Janina will be going through radioactive iodine treatment. I plan on baking and cooking (!) up a storm for them.

I was talking to my best friend Anne last night, and I joked saying, "I still can hardly believe this happened, but then again, everything happens in three's!" Have you every had a time in your life where you think something that happened a few days/weeks/months before was kind of like a foreshadowing of what would happen later in your life? I came to a funky conclusion with Anne: that all of those celebrities (RIP) who died were kind of a foreshadowing of this cancer deal. Think about it: all of the celebrities who have died in the last year died in three's. Farrah, Billy Mays, MJ. There was another tricolon (woohoo, I used a term from my Writing Argument class!) that I'm missing, but you get the point. I kept saying over and over again, "Everything happens in three's!" I hit the nail on the head.

I teased Janina about being lucky that she was the third one to have thyroid surgery. Number three is supposed to be the charm, isn’t it?

Although there’s nothing lucky or charming about having thyroid cancer, Janina knew, after going through Dori’s procedure and my procedure, what she wanted and what she didn’t want. She made it perfectly clear to her surgeon and anesthesiologist that she did not want pain medication, and although a mild one was given during the procedure, Janina had none during postop – only Tylenol. That was a great decision on her part. As a result, she had a much less eventful postop period with no nausea and no vomiting – Alleluia! I remember that well, and it isn’t pretty. A bit of tachycardia plagued her (like mother, like daughter), but I.V. fluids helped control the situation, and her pulse gradually came down.

What a trooper! Janina remained her kind and grateful self during her hospital stay, complimenting the nurses and techs for their hard work, and impressing the doctors with her very pleasant demeanor…all without pain meds.

Two weeks postop and I’m feeling like my old self, so I’m hoping that Janina progresses in the same way.

Well, my family has made it over another hurdle.

We had dinner at Janina's this evening. Salad, spaghetti, and meatballs. Janina had some soup, as she didn't want to tempt fate, just in case she has some postoperative stomach upset.

By this time tomorrow, she will be recovering in her hospital bed and the surgery will be over. It has been such a blessing that she was able to be scheduled for the procedure so quickly. There's been little time to think about it because we have all been so busy scrambling around trying to keep other things in order.

I'll need to keep this short as I didn't get much sleep last night.

Your thoughts and prayers are appreciated as Janina undergoes her surgery tomorrow.

I can hardly believe that time is going by so quickly. It's amazing to me how we are already almost halfway through January. Mom's surgery still seems like it was yesterday.

Now that Mom has had her surgery and is doing great, I think I'm a lot better prepared for Janina's tomorrow. I know what to expect emotions-wise. Janina is in such good hands; this surgeon is phenomenal. He has operated on me, Michael, and Mom already, and he has done a fabulous job on all three of us. I have no doubts that he will do the same for my beloved sister.

Take a look at our Flickr photos in the right column. I added some of Janina with Mom and I, and some extras of me and Mom. The one at the top of our page is a bonus for everyone. Wasn't I a beautiful baby? ;-)

In only two days, we will be going to the hospital for Janina’s surgery. I’ve already started the visualization process in my head -- seeing her in the Recovery Room, picturing myself at her bedside, and imagining what her first 24 hours will be like.

Having seen both me and Dori so ill with nausea and vomiting postoperatively, Janina is prepared to ask the anesthesiologist not to give her any pain medication at the time of surgery. Every hospital has its own protocol, and while many folks handle pain meds well (and rather like them), I’m getting the feeling that me and my girls have a low tolerance for them.

Odd as it sounds, thyroid surgery is rather painless. I don’t recall having any pain at all in the neck area, and I still don’t. Perhaps it’s because the incision cuts through the nerve endings. But whatever the reason, it just doesn’t hurt, so I’m not going to argue. On the zero to 10 pain level scale, I was never more than a 2.5, and that was when I first awoke from surgery. The most uncomfortable part is the sore throat and difficulty swallowing that follows being intubated during the procedure. For me, time and Slurpees were the answer.

That’s the thing about having been there and done that, it’s so easy to put yourself into another’s shoes. I support Janina’s decision to request zero to very low-level pain medication during her operation, and I will be there in the hours following to make sure that she is as comfortable as possible, doing all those things that made me feel better when I was the one in the hospital bed.

It's wonderful having a job that you love, and I can't wait to get back to the office tomorrow --  my first day back since the day before Christmas Eve. I look forward to seeing and talking with our patients again. They don’t even know why I took some extra time off. I just didn’t have the heart to tell them about my diagnosis and surgery so as not to dampen their holiday spirit, or mine for that matter. My boss says they have been asking about me and seem concerned, but he told them that he gave me some extra well-deserved time off. Many of them are like extended family, and I can’t wait to give and get a big hug.

Somehow I feel that sitting at my desk again will give me a sense that my life is returning to normal. 

Man, Mom, you're a blogging whirlwind! I love it! :-)

Yes, I'm definitely going to jump on the Grateful Train here and say "Thank you" to everyone who has been reading our blog and walking along this journey with us. You all have been so awesome to us and we couldn't thank you enough for your support and love.

I was out all day today, from 9:30am until about 6:30pm tonight. I was at an FLL (FIRST Lego League) qualifier competition at a local high school. I volunteered with the team I currently mentor. It felt so good to see my students again and spend the day with them. They amaze me every single day. It's wonderful watching them grow up and learn. The team ran the competition today, and they did such a wonderful job. I am so proud of them!

I just want to take a moment to thank everyone who reads our blog.  Because you have shown such concern and interest in what we have to say, it inspires us to share our journey with you.

 

When I write, I feel like I am talking to a good friend, and that friend is really listening.  So, in the middle of the night or wee hours of the morning, and without having to call and bother anyone in particular, I can talk about what's on my mind.  It's done wonders for me, and I thank you for that.  

I'm just an average mom with two average daughters, all stricken with thyroid cancer.  Every day is tough.  Some days are better than others.  But I don't think a single day goes by that we don't find something to smile or laugh about. 

Perhaps you are reading this because you are going through a similar struggle.  Just like you, I am a real person behind the blog, so feel free to e-mail me if you'd like to chat -- aplait@comcast.net.

Again, thank you, my friend. 

I'm normal now, folks, I promise! ;) I guess I just needed a little while to get myself back on track.

The last few days have pretty much felt normal. As Mom said in her latest post, it's felt pretty standard. How weird is that, especially after everything so far? It felt so nice to get some Starbucks with Mom after my class on Thursday and have lunch with her at one of our favorite places. For a few minutes, I forgot about what has been going on.

The truth is, I just can't wait to find out what the real cause is of all this. Is it genetics? Cowden's Syndrome? Environmental? Who knows at this point. It's too broad to tell. To be honest, I want it to be something concrete, like genetics or Cowden's. I want to know for sure what my children's chances are, along with everyone else in my family. I want to be positive as far as what the risks could be if I decide to have children. I want to know whether or not my younger cousins or my darling nephew could get this cancer or any other type.

What sucks about cancer is nothing is set in stone. You may or may not get cancer in your lifetime, you may or may not be "cured," you may or may not have a successful surgery or treatment. Anything goes when it comes to this crap. Believe me, I never imagined I would have such a pain-in-the-neck (hahaha) time with it. I thought I'd have my one surgery, one treatment, and bada-bing! Done. Haha, not the case at all. You just never know.

So from what Dr. S said about Janina, he is only removing her thyroid. He didn't see any funky-looking lymph nodes surrounding her thyroid, so this is good. I can't wait for her surgery to be done so we can just move the heck on! T-minus 4 days 'til the big day. Stupid cancer.

Yesterday almost felt like a regular day. I drove for the first time since my surgery. I picked up Dori from her minimester class, grabbed some coffee, and went to Panera for lunch. It felt to good to be among the living. I’m feeling better and better as the days go on, and looking forward to returning to my job on Monday.

Did I mention that I have the greatest job in the world?  I am the practice manager for an internist. He is a remarkable physician and an extraordinary person. He brought me homemade soup when I was in the hospital. Did you ever know a doctor to do that? Well mine does, and he thinks nothing of it. It’s just part of who he is. He does it for many of his patients; and did I mention that he makes the soup himself? It is a privilege to work alongside of him.

I put a call in to the genetics doctor, since after Janina heals that will be our next step. In the meantime, I’ve been going crazy on the internet Googling thyroid cancer and possible genetic links. It’s scary to think that it may not stop with the thyroid cancer and that perhaps a tumor suppressor gene is to blame. I’m trying not to let my thoughts run away with me until the Geneticist helps us to make sense of it all.

Sometimes I just don’t want to talk about it. The fact that Dori has thyroid cancer is enough for most people; then when I talk about myself, I can see the eyebrows raise a bit; when I mention Janina, I get out and out foot-stomping shock. Although I do agree that it is almost unbelievable in that thyroid cancer itself is not all that common, I can’t help but feel almost freakish – like we’re contagious or something. Silly…I know.

The weekend will fly by, as weekends do, and Janina will have her surgery on Tuesday. In the meantime, family members are lining up at radiology to have a screening ultrasound. Many of them have been found to have thyroid nodules, which in of itself is not surprising as thyroid nodules are common. Whether or not any of these nodules pan out to be cancerous is another thing. Unfortunately, for my family, “Node news is not good news”.

There were three gals named Laye and Plait

Two daughters and a mother were they.

They exercised and watched what they ate

And were healthy in every way.

The youngest lived life without watching the clock

And looked forward to her high school ball.

A lump in her throat made her visit the doc

And that was the start of it all.

Diagnosis of thyroid cancer came as a shock

As no relative had it before.

She went through treatment strong like a rock

Not knowing there would be more.

Four years later on screening ultrasound

Mother Plait to her surprise and dismay.

Discovered that three nodules were found

Needing biopsy without delay.

Off to the hospital the ladies flew

This time to support their mother.

It was her turn and in her heart she knew

That she wouldn’t want it to be any other.

But misfortune again reared its ugly head

This time in the oldest child.

Mother was barely out of her sick bed

When another cancer diagnosis was filed.

Is there a lesson to be learned from this?

We hope that it soon will be clear.

But in the meantime give your loved ones a kiss

And hold them ever so near.

Okay, I need to clear the air, here.

My last post was pretty scrambled, and I do apologize to our beloved family, friends, coworkers, and readers. I have been going through a lot of mixed emotions the last few days. Janina's diagnosis and upcoming surgery (t-5 days) are certainly affecting me, but I have been thinking a lot about other situations in my life that have nothing to do with thyroid cancer.

I started my 3-week gen.ed. minimester course on Tuesday. It was really difficult to walk into that classroom and spend four and a half hours listening to lecture and reading editorials based on argument. It still is hard, especially when all I can think about is Janina. Last night, I was struggling to write a paper due earlier today in class. I just had such difficulty starting it. As you all either know or have realized, I do not have trouble finding something to say. I just was so overcome with a whole slew of emotions that I could hardly concentrate on the task at hand. When I went downstairs to tell Mom and Dad that I was not going to go to class today, they right away said, "Get down here and we'll help you start that paper." So, I did, and I got it done. I must say, thanks to my dad, mom, and brother, I think I wrote a pretty kick-butt counterargument.

The last few days, I have had a hard time doing anything. Mom and I had lunch today at Panera, and she finally laid down the law with me after yesterday's post. She said, "Dori, you're living your life. Janina and I are so proud of you. Don't let this bother you more than it should. You're the one holding all of us together. You're our rock." Now, I'm not saying that I am everything she says I am. They may consider me to be their crutch when they need me, but I needed to break down yesterday. I needed to vent everything I had bottling up inside me. The last thing that needs to happen is for me to explode on anyone close to me like I did years ago. I'm doing my very best to never let that happen again.

So, long story short, I am not crazy, suicidal, etc. A lot of things were rushing through my head, and it was hard to tame them all at once. I apologize for worrying anyone or making myself or my family look bad.

Lately, I feel like I'm living a whole different life. It almost feels as though I'm not really me, like I'm someone else going through all of this...stuff. I'm not Dori anymore. I don't know who I am, but it surely isn't me.

I know I'm not making sense, but I just can't think alone anymore. No, I'm not suicidal or anything like that. I just can't be alone or else I think the most ridiculous, crazy things. My mind wanders and I get so afraid. When things like this happen to me I don't talk to anyone. I talk if I have to, but I'm not confiding in people. Even my family, which is startling because I feel like I need to talk to them, but I can't. I have good reasons why.

"She'll be fine." "It's all going to be OK." "Stop freaking out." "Things will work out." You know what I hear when anyone tells me these things? "Blah blah blah blah." It sounds like all of the adults in Charlie Brown episodes where they sound like, "WAAH WAAH WA WA WAAAH WAHH." I just want to cover my ears and run out of the room. I can't take it. You may not realize it, but these phrases are things I hear every, single, day. From everyone I encounter or anyone who I tell about my family updates. Even close friends. It's so frustrating! Why tell me what I already know? Let me vent. Let me freak out. Let me be upset, scared, worried. Let me be!

The family says the same stuff. I understand they mean well, and I love them for trying to help me. I just can't bear to hear the same crap from everybody, and I want to express myself without any of this general junk. Please don't get me wrong, my family is amazing. They are wonderful people and simply fantastic to me. But this is an internal thing that I need to get through myself. Nobody can help me through it, because no one can understand what is happening in my brain. Not even Mom, who has a clue, but is not feeling the exact same things.

I love my sister. Mom is right when she says she is like a second mom to Kyle and me. I always accidentally call her, "Mom," but she barely bats an eye and looks at me, waiting to hear what I have to say. She knows who I'm talking to.

Not a lot of people know this story, but when I was little, Janina and I had sleepovers at her house every weekend. We would go to Blockbuster, rent movies, and come home to watch them in her room (she lived with her dad at the time). Whenever we went out, people asked her if I was her daughter. She would say yes immediately. We held hands throughout the store. I never wanted to let go.

I want to go back to that place. I want to be as close to her as I was then. Why did I have to grow up already? Why did reality have to hit us so quickly? What happened? Why did time have to slip by so fast?

She's had enough trouble in her life. This needs to stop. Of all the people to have so much happen to them, why Janina? Why my precious, self-less sister?

It was actually humor that got us through Janina’s appointment with the surgeon this morning. You know that part in the movie where Forrest Gump is sitting at the bus stop having a conversation with another person waiting for the bus, and he’s telling his story. Anyway, he talks about going to the White House,“Again”, and meeting with the President, “Again”. You just have to chuckle when you think about that part of the movie, because you can almost hear his voice and visualize the expression on his face. Well, that’s how it felt for our family today. So we just went with it and had a few laughs – or at least as much fun as one can possibly have while scheduling a major surgery.

Janina, of course, was her usual incredibly strong and cheerful self, despite not getting any sleep last night (which she confided in me). When the surgeon came into the room, she greeted him with “Hey handsome!”. I know that he must have a soft spot in his heart for her. After all, he watched her take care of Dori, Michael (Janina’s husband—diagnosed with thyroid cancer a year after Dori), and then me. Despite being a professional, I’m sure it pains him, as much as it does us, that she, being the caregiver for all, now has to go through this herself, but he went along with our jokes and reassured Janina that all would be okay.

Surgery is scheduled for Tuesday, January 12th. On that day, it will be exactly two weeks since my own surgery. God has been gracious enough to allow me to heal rather uneventfully, and I plan to be totally ready to be with Janina next Tuesday to comfort and help her through those difficult and crucial first 24 hours. I wouldn’t think of being anywhere else.

Only six days to go. I’m happy that my own surgery is behind me, sad that my daughter’s is yet to come, but in acceptance of the fact that we must do it “Again”.

I can’t sleep. It’s 1:57 a.m. and I’m lying in bed wide awake, wondering if Janina is doing the same. Sometimes, I just hate the night.

I visited Janina’s Facebook page and was thrilled to see so many folks sending her messages of support.

People just love Janina. You can’t help it. She’s such a kind and gentle soul. Small children follow her around like the Pied Piper. She wears so many hats all the time, reaching out to family, friends, and others in any way she can. She is not just a big sister, but a second-mother to my younger children. Yet she is “cool” enough to be their best friend as well. It takes someone pretty special to pull that off. I have always found it a comforting thought to know that if anything were to happen to me while my younger children were still young, Janina would step in and their lives would hardly miss a beat. Truly…she’s that close to them and would give them as much comfort and love as I ever could.

In about 7 hours we’ll be meeting with the surgeon…again. The game will be similar, but the players will change. As much as I don’t want it to be, it’s Janina’s turn now. I’m hoping that things move as quickly for her as they did for me; without too much time to think about it, and faster into the healing and recovery stage. For all that Janina is to those around her, she deserves that.

J – I love you with all of my heart.

I’ve been having problems with tachycardia since my operation. Evidently, with manipulation of the thyroid in removing it at surgery, much excess hormone is secreted into the body. It’s a lousy feeling – like you’re in overdrive even when you are trying to relax. After talking about this with my endocrinologist yesterday, he doubled my beta blocker, and if that does not give me effective relief, may decrease my Synthroid dose. As well, my menopausal hot flashes have hit an all-time high. I have become one big walking/talking hormone.

The recent turn of events with Janina doesn’t help any either. I know she is anxious about her visit with the surgeon tomorrow, and I feel her pain. Everyone feels her pain. Calls and messages have been pouring in. I’m sure most people are thinking what misfortune and horrible luck our family seems to have – that we all have cancer at the same time. Truth is, we have it “at the same time” because we are looking for it. But it was there, and who knows for how long. Dori’s diagnosis four years ago eventually led to my concern and subsequent diagnosis, which led to Janina’s diagnosis.

Misfortune? Perhaps. I choose to think that we are fortunate. Fortunate to have discovered our cancer and fortunate to have each other. Each of us can both sympathize and empathize with the other. Each of us knows how it feels every step of the way. We’re just exchanging places to be where we need to be. Janina and I were once at Dori’s bedside, Janina then at my bedside, and I will be at her bedside very soon. I will hold her hand and whisper the same comforting words that she whispered to me and reassure her that she will be fine.

It’s 11 a.m. and I’m still lying in bed as I make this entry. Trying to give the meds a chance to kick in. When my feet hit the floor, I will officially be up. Let’s see what today brings…

P.S.

Another great “Tweet” I received today:

"Adversity is another way to measure the greatness of individuals. I never had a crisis that didn't make me stronger." - Lou Holtz

Yesterday was a great day. I had a wonderful time out with a good friend, and then afterward I went out to watch the Ravens beat the Raiders and earn their rightful spot in the NFL Playoffs. It was great to forget my troubles outside of that place, and just focus on something fun with close friends.

However, I barely slept last night. I had maybe 4 hours of sleep, give or take. I was feeling terrible. It must have been some indication of what was to happen today.

I woke up at 11:15am to my alarm clock. I was excited for my chat with Matthew Zachary from I'm Too Young For This! at noon, and was ready to spend some time with a friend visiting from New Jersey in the evening. However, when I checked my phone as soon as I awoke, I came across a text from my dad. He said that Janina's results were positive for papillary thyroid cancer, and that she was in the office talking to our surgeon about her surgery. It was such a shock to me that I could hardly move for a minute or two. Then, I lost it. I started to hit my pillow so hard I almost thought I broke through it, I screamed at the top of my lungs, and I shouted, "No, no, not my sister! Not my sister!" There was nothing else I could do. I wanted to break something into a million pieces, just like this cancer has been doing to my heart. Just when I feel like I'm getting over it and moving on and trying to help my mother, it has to shatter my heart all over again. Why Janina? Not her. She has already had 2 cancers. This is ridiculous. Of all the people to get cancer, it should NOT be her. She has the most amazing personality. Janina's a beautiful person, inside and out. She has the biggest heart you could ever find in a human being, and she has been my hero since I was a little girl. She's my second mother...my best friend. This is one of those things that is slowly sending me over the edge.

Oh, how perfect. You know that song I talked about in my last blog? Avril Lavigne's "Mobile"? Well, it just came on when I hit "Shuffle" on iTunes. It's perfect for right now. Everything is happening way too fast here. It's getting harder and harder each day.

I'm still saying it over and over in my head, "Not my sister...not her. Please not her." But, it is. The next unfortunate victim. But, as Breaking Benjamin's lyrics in, "I Will Not Bow" state: I will not bow, I will not break...I will not fall, I will not fade..."

By Sunday evening, day five post-op, I think my bowels and I have made peace with each other…finally. I am starving for a regular meal. The kind of starving where everything starts to sound good, even things you never liked before. But I bit the bullet, threw caution to the wind, and all that brave stuff. I asked Merril to pick up a sour beef and dumplings dinner from Silver Spring Mining Company – a definite comfort food for me as it is as close to what my grandmother used to make as any recipe I have eaten. I managed one dumpling, a chunk of beef and some gravy—Yummy! Later, I had a day-old low fat brownie. I can finally eat and life is good again.

But that was yesterday.

Today, Janina (my oldest daughter) called at 8:30 a.m. to let me know that the endocrinologist wants to see her to discuss her thyroid biopsy results, so we went to his office. We weren’t totally shocked, but of course sadly disappointed, to find out that she too has thyroid cancer. WAIT A MINUTE!…I thought I said in an earlier post that I wasn’t willing to share my cancer. It’s mine, and I want all the attention. Benevolent Man upstairs, did you hear me??? I don’t want to share. Not anymore. Especially not with another one of my children. Especially not with Janina.

I talked about Janina in an earlier post. I could spend an hour telling you how wonderful she is, and if you asked me about her bad points, I would have nothing to say. There are none. She’s the kindest and strongest woman I know and I am confident that she will get through this ordeal. I would like to think that “the apple never falls far from the tree” theory applies to Janina and I, but I know better. She’s got it all over me. She’s my mentor and my rock.

Indeed 2010 started off with a bang. But, as families do, we’ll lean on each other, draw strength from each other, care for each other, and move forward -- to a large degree because we have no choice, but mostly because we want to.

Taking one step at a time towards a better tomorrow.

I'm pretty much an insomniac at the moment. It's 5:17am right now and I'm awake. I fell asleep around 12:30am and woke up at 2:30, but fell asleep again around maybe 3:30am and now I am awake. I will probably go back to sleep as soon as I finish writing this, but I feel slightly alert. I'm also telling you all this just in case this entry seems a little off.

This is probably one of those days where I really do not know what I want to say. A lot of things are happening around me at once; not just this cancer shindig, but many other personal things, too. I have had so many ups and downs with friends and others over the course of the last month or so that my head is still spinning. Change happens every time we look another direction. Each time I feel like this, I like listening to Avril Lavigne's song "Mobile." Go take a listen. It has been so true about everything that has been happening in my life. Many people I know can relate to all of this, and can relate to constant change. Coming to terms with change, though, is a very different matter.

In an earlier post my mother made, she mentioned that she was joking with her sister, my Aunt Rea when she accompanied her to get her ultrasound. She said that this was her cancer and she didn't want to share it. I know it was a joke, but sometimes I thought that myself. Especially when Mom was diagnosed. I didn't want anyone else to have this. I wanted it to just be mine, my cancer, my ordeal. In reality, though, folks, this was not just my battle. Everyone who chose and has chosen to be with me and suffer with me -- this was their fight, too. They were fighting with me. They were giving little pieces of themselves to me when I was running out. At times I still need these pieces in order to feel whole again, feel normal.

I cried when I read Dori’s entry today. It brought back memories of her pain and struggle as a teenager, so full of promise and life, right at the time of high school graduation, being diagnosed with thyroid cancer. So while her friends were partying and packing to leave home and excitedly venture off to their respective colleges, she was preparing for major surgery, subsequent treatments, and surgery again.

Sid, Lynn, Lindsey and Chris sent me a wonderful get well card (thank you guys!). In it Lynn wrote, “Do everything Dori says…she’s a pro”. And indeed she is. I prayed that I would be as accepting of the illness and as a good a patient as Dori was, and still is. She never missed a beat, always thinking ahead to her future plans and treating the cancer as if it was just an inconvenience, a bump in the road that she was determined to get past.

Okay, sure she was crabby sometimes – maybe even a lot. Physically, it’s easy to understand this as the thyroid controls so many of our body’s hormones. I cannot even begin to understand the emotional component. At 17, I was living the high life. Although I considered myself a mature person, I don’t know what I would have been like having been dealt the same hand at that time. In my mind, Dori is nothing short of amazing – even if she is my daughter.

As for the young man Dori spoke of in her post – his name is Seth. Seth stood by her, cared for her, took a lot of guff, and never stopped giving. Dori is right about that. We loved him and thought of him as part of our family. I don’t think I could ever thank him sufficiently or convey in words how much it meant to me that he loved my daughter enough to see her through that very difficult time in her life, without hesitation and without complaint.

They say that when the chips are down, you find out who your real friends are. True that! I am still in awe of the folks who have reached out to me. Conversely, I am stunned by some of those who haven’t (but we won’t go there).

So for today, I am grateful to my friends and family for their support, calls, cards, flowers, and continued well-wishes. As Dori said so many times, we couldn’t do this without you.

Love & Hugs. 

No matter what you have gone through, the past seems to always creep back up again. While my mom has been going through all of this lovely thyroid cancer business, I have thought a lot about what my life was like when I was diagnosed. Who I was dating, what I was doing, things I liked and disliked, and then some. Everything just seemed to flood me all at once over the course of the last three weeks. I've been looking through old photos, cards, letters, and journal entries lately, and a lot of things have really registered with me. Not only have I really grown up, but I have realized just how much I should have appreciated more.

While I was going through my surgeries and treatments, I had a long-term boyfriend. I was diagnosed a year and a half after we started our relationship, so we were very close and very much in love. A lot of things hit me all at once as soon as my diagnosis started. I became even more stubborn, needy, and temperamental. He gave and gave and gave, and I never truly appreciated him and everything he did for me. I realized, after going through all of these things, just what I lost. Sure, I'm moving on and living my life as I should, but sometimes I wonder if things would have been different if I knew then what I know now. Past is past, and it will remain that way. I have to live from now on with no regrets. And that is exactly what I am doing now.

Through these life lessons, we come to terms with the fact that we are only human. I was young and juvenile. I dealt with my cancer in any way possible, and that meant hurting a lot of people in more ways than one. I lashed out, vented, and bottled things until they exploded at the worst times. My life had become such a whirlwind that I didn't take the time to really appreciate those who stuck by me and loved me throughout my difficulties.

As a New Year's resolution, I do not plan on committing to yet another diet plan. I do not plan on trying to work out more (even though I will do my best to). I simply plan on giving thanks for my family and friends, especially those who were there for me and have been for as long as I can remember. I am grateful, and will always be grateful for the support, love, encouragement, and strength that I was able to receive through these people. I would not have been able to go through any of this alone.

Surgery is the best diet…NOT! I’m down about 9 lb. which I’m sure is mostly fluid. Not being able to eat on top of getting rid of your body stores is rather draining. Yesterday was my best day. I actually got in three “meals” – a toasted bagel for breakfast, cream of wheat for lunch, and a hot soft pretzel for dinner. As you can see, I’m on a high carbohydrate diet these days. I even had a Coke Slurpee, which made me long for summer…a nice cold snowball would be just the ticket. And since the cream of wheat worked so well yesterday, I had it again this morning for breakfast—along with another Coke Slurpee. I know, not a great combination.

I’m dreaming of pancakes and omelets, burgers and fries (something I usually don’t even eat), a luscious Thanksgiving feast, and oddly, sour beef and dumplings (one of my personal favorites). There’s steamed shrimp, stuffed flank steak, and cheesecake still waiting for me in the fridge--leftovers from New Year’s Eve. I may have to get Merril to eat them, and I’m sure he won’t complain too much about that. Although I have accepted the surgery, unfortunately my stomach and bowels haven’t. I’m waiting patiently for them to get on board.

My sleep schedule is absolutely crazy. Difficult to sleep at night, better in the day. I feel like I’m missing out on so much by sleeping in during the day, particularly since it gets dark so early, and I look forward to a more normal schedule. Some things just can’t be rushed; recovery from surgery being high on the list. It’s like a swift kick in the pants, a huge jolt to the body, and every body handles it differently.

Janina just called to let me know that she’d be stopping by. She’s at Game Stop with my grandson. She asked me if I wanted anything. Trying to be humorous, I told her to get me the Wii Feel Better. I think there should be such a game, don’t you?

It's nice to stop and smell the roses. I just hate when something bad has to happen in order to force you to do so.

When I got diagnosed, I just lived my life as I saw fit. It had to happen the way I wanted it, mainly because if I stopped, then my thoughts would take over and drive me insane. Even now, being post-treatment and living life on a six-months-ahead basis, I still have to keep myself busy at times or else I will daydream myself into an anxious frenzy. There are days, though, when I feel like I need time to just blank out.

What really irks me, though, is that a lot of the time something really bad has to happen to punch you in the gut and make you stop doing what you're doing to think about what's really important. I'm pretty sure that God is trying to tell me to spend more time with family, and really, truly value them. I love my family dearly, and I would do anything for each and every person within my family, but I don't think I appreciate them enough. With my mom getting diagnosed and dealing with her surgery and upcoming treatment, my sister getting biopsied and the rest of my entire family getting ultrasounds of their thyroids, I feel like I really should spend more time with them and talking to them. It's the same feeling with my dad's family, too. They all live in different states minus my dad's sister. It's so difficult to keep in touch with people who hardly live close by.  I really need to put forth more effort, and I should. They're family, and I couldn't be here without them (literally and figuratively).

Cherish your family and friends. Whether or not you have been through cancer or any other life-threatening disease or disorder, you should spend as much time with them as possible and love them for who they are. Every moment counts.

Sometimes we need to be flat on our backs before we stop to smell the roses.  Granted, the roses are a little harder to smell when we are on our backs, but it can be done. 

It’s a rather freeing feeling to walk (rather shuffle) through the house and appreciate it just the way it is – as my home. Not to worry about the lint on the rugs (that I would have picked up before), the dishes in the sink, the piles of mail (mostly junk), the hair on the bathroom floor (and I’m only noticing that because I’m in there so much – yuck!). Who cares?!

I love it that I’m actually watching and finishing a movie. Only did that on rare occasion because I was too busy transcribing, cleaning, working on a craft, or something else that I could have put off, but didn’t. I’m not even minding if what the family watches is football (of which I am not a fan) because as long as we’re together in the same room, it’s a good thing.

I love it that my family has camped out with me on our rather large sectional sofa, which has actually become lost amongst the blankets and pillows. I hated all that clutter before. I’m happy for all of the phone calls and visits that I was too busy for before – busy doing what?!

I love it that I am appreciating each little bit of progress that I’ve made since the surgery, even if it’s been just to hold down a few crackers. The reality is that there are so many who suffer far worse than I. I have no room to complain.

I guess that’s what people mean when they say that a lot of good can come from a little bad.