Too Much on Our Plait

The bandages are off!  Ahh, that feels so much better.  I stood in front of the mirror and took a good look and my scar which, at this point, is an amazing array of colors and textures -- red, purple, lumpy, bumpy, not too terribly long, center and just above my collarbone.  At first, I felt like the lady in the Beetlejuice movie.  Do you remember the one?  The smoker with the slit in her throat so that every time she inhaled her cigarette, the smoke would come billowing out of her neck.  Fresh incisional scars are not too terribly attractive, but just like everything else, will get better with time.  Finally was able to get down a toasted bagel and some tea that Dori very lovingly made for me.  Let's just hope more of it stays "in" than comes "out", if you know what I mean.  My appetite is there, but the rest of my body is not being totally cooperative.  Marci's Christmas candy is especially wonderful ri...

Mom's scar looks wonderful. In three months, I guarantee you, that scar will barely be there. Our surgeon does wonders. I'm really proud of my mother. After her "big reveal," I asked her how she felt about her scar. She said she felt good. I asked if she would be comfortable going out without wearing a big turtleneck. She smiled and said, "Yes, of course!" I sure hope we can do that very soon. It's exciting for me to see her like this. She's confident about her scar, and she doesn't care what the world thinks about it. I can't wait to go out with her and see her step out into the world, showing everyone the champion that she is. I think 2010 will be our year. Even with all of the commotion going on in my mom's family with getting their thyroids scanned, I think that 2010 will really bring our family some good luck. Something just tells me that no matter what goes wrong, it will turn up right. At some point. Happy New Year, everyone....

Visits from family early last evening. Marci with a lovely stuffed shells dinner for the family, Anna Marie bearing edible treats, and Gracie with some wonderful Bath and Body gifts. And I thought Christmas was over! Later things got a little rough. Nausea and vomiting plagued me in the hospital, but at home the other end started acting up (not the kind of thing you want to elaborate on in a blog). At any rate, I’m hoping it’s just the anesthesia and/or drugs trying to work their way out of my system. Nonetheless, I’m still as grateful today as I was yesterday. I can sleep fairly well, and still only have minimal discomfort. Today will also mark the great unveiling. I get to take off my bandages and make friends with my new scar. That part of the surgery never bothered me. We all have scars, inside and out. It shows that we’ve experienced life. I’m actually excited about seeing mine. It will remind me that I looked into the face of that which I thought I could not and dealt with ...

Thank God it's over. Mom is home and she looks, sounds, and feels awesome. She's relieved, and so am I. I know what she's talking about when it comes to the build up before surgery. It's really not a fun thing. Time flew by for me really quickly, and that was not only a blessing but also a curse. I wanted it over, but I was too afraid of the outcome. Since I never had surgery before, I didn't know what to expect. Luckily my surgery was at 7 in the morning on a Monday, so I slept a little and was extremely tired before surgery so I hardly could think. I will never forget looking back at my mother, father, and sister one last time before going into the OR. I could barely see since I didn't have my glasses, but I knew how their faces looked. I don't think those images will ever be erased from my head. As soon as I was home the next day, I was just like my mother is right now. She's talking on the phone, letting people visit, and relieved it's all ov...

It's over.  The surgery is behind me.  The day came and went just like I hoped it would.  Right now, I am in minimal pain and feel like I'm navigating in slow motion -- on the outside.  On the inside, I am grateful for having such an amazing surgical team, an incredible family, and such supportive friends, some of whom I've never even met.   The "build-up" to the surgery was the worst part.  The imagining of what would happen and how it would  happen.  Playing out scenarios in my head of what the operating room would be like, what would happen to me during surgery, and how I would feel when I awoke.  As you can guess, none of it turned out as I had imagined.  It was pretty straightforward and rather uneventful.  I did, though, get postsurgical tachycardia, and extreme nausea and vomiting, but the right medications helped with all of that.  Twenty-four hours later, I am back in the comfort of my own ho...

Before I rant and rave, Mom is doing very well. She's not in any pain, but her throat is sore from the breathing tube. It's difficult for her to swallow, but she is able to drink and possibly eat. When I left her, she was slurring but coherent, and she looks fabulous for just having surgery. I'll probably blog for her tomorrow when she comes home. Dr. S told us that he took out her entire thyroid and some "clumpy" lymph nodes underneath the thyroid. We won't know the results on those nodes for a few days. Mom thanks everyone for their support, love, and encouragement through this whole ordeal. She smiled when I told her about everyone's well wishes. But please keep thinking about her and praying for her. Today was one of the most difficult days of my life. I can safely say that. I knew Mom was in good hands, but it's still scary. I finally know what it really is like being on the other side of the fence. It's not greener. I imagined every possi...

As I leave for the hospital, I am touched by the messages of support and encouragement still being sent to me.  They mean more than you can imagine.  Never underestimate the power of a kind word and a caring heart.    Love & Hugs!  

I can’t believe this is it.  The final countdown.  I'm getting butterflies in my stomach as I type this.  Am I ready?  The truth is, it doesn't matter if I'm ready or not - it will just happen.  Tomorrow will come and I'll have my surgery.  Since I was first diagnosed, time seems to have flown by and stood still all at the same time.  At this time, though, I want to thank everyone who has shown me support along the way.  You know who you are. Your hugs, thoughts, prayers, calls, cards, text messages, and twitters have meant more than you know—and I mean that. I feel like I have my own cheering section rooting me on to victory. I have drawn so much strength from you.  I am overwhelmed by the people who have reached out to me.  Some folks I have never even met.  It has made all the difference in my journey and reassures me that the things that bind us together are more important than those which separate us....

Disclaimer: If you watch Ugly Betty and have not gotten to Season 3, Episode 16, then don't read this yet. Go watch that episode and then come back. You'll get mad at me. If you have never watched Ugly Betty and don't really care about the show, then read on. Molly has cancer. I knew it as soon as I saw her in the doctor's office in Episode 16. She was crying, upset, and seemed completely torn. She finally tells Daniel, who is the head honcho in Mode Magazine. Daniel lets her walk out of his life. I haven't finished the episode to find out if he succeeds in bringing her back. I needed to write this entry. It's going to really hit home for people, especially those I have become close to going through cancer themselves. Betty talks Daniel into going to find her. He was torn up about Molly just walking out and him not stopping her. He said that she didn't want him to see her sick, and that he let her walk out because he was scared of seeing her get worse. ...

Visited with Merril’s sister Marci and family last night. Had pizza and salad and way too much dessert. Even on the way home, I had my head in a box of the fabulous Christmas candy that Marci makes every year and shares with the family. Lovely pieces of stained-glass-like sugary goodness of grape, pineapple, orange, lemon, and my all-time favorite, cinnamon. It was wonderful to be with everyone and to get even more hugs and well-wishes for my upcoming surgery. (If the Treeces are reading this, I love you all and thank you for a wonderful evening!) After that, a quick escape to Delaware Park Slots. The nodule gang, me, Anna Marie, Janina, Dori, and Melissa piled into Janina’s Tahoe (love those backseat seat-warmers!) and headed off like thieves into the night. I found it peculiar, statistically-speaking, that all five of us have been found to have thyroid nodules; and so far two of us have thyroid cancer, yet not one of us won any money, hmmm… Oh well, it was a welcome diversion and ...

I watched my Ravens lose to the Steelers today. It was pretty painful to watch. We gave up three touchdowns because of penalties. I won't deny that I was quite pissed and yelling at the referees through my TV set (yeah, they totally heard me). Overall, it was a heart-wrenching experience. A cancer battle is pretty much like a football game. Both teams battle it out, and, in the end, one has to win. Doctors make the call on what would be the best treatment for the patient, just like the referees make calls on the game to benefit one or the other. Family, friends, coworkers, and even strangers have to watch from the sidelines, shouting encouraging words for their loved one and booing the disease and all the hell that goes with it, just like fans rooting for their favorite team and cussing out the opposition. All the fans can do is watch and anxiously wait for the final score. All the loved ones surrounding the cancer patient can do is watch and wait for something to happen. As I ...

Where would we be without comic relief? I went to see the new movie “It’s Complicated” with Merril and Dori last night, and laughed to the point of forgetting time and place. There was one part of the movie, though, that brought me back to reality, but in an odd sort of way. Meryl Streep has gotten herself into a very complicated relationship with her ex-husband, Alec Baldwin, who has moved on and married a much younger woman. Naturally, Meryl is frantic and totally scattered about what to do. She descends upon her therapist, unannounced, begging for time with him to discuss the “situation.” She wanted him to tell her what to do. It’s funny that so many of us are like that, me included; that we look to those whom we feel are best-equipped to tell us how to live our lives. At any rate, Meryl is talking with abandon, completely opening up and her therapist is listening intently. She concludes by instructing him to tell her that she’s doing a bad thing. I found his response very ...

So in about 3 days (give or take, I'm posting at 1:45am on Saturday), Mom goes in for her surgery. It's funny, I kind of forgot how I felt in the few days prior to my first surgery. I think I was feeling a mixture of things. I didn't have any prior experience, so I had no idea what to expect. I was probably just afraid of how it would feel going under and then after I woke up, but I don't remember if I was scared of the surgery itself. My family and friends definitely kept me busy during that month. I had graduation three days after diagnosis, my graduation party, other friends' graduation parties and outings, and my week trip to visit my lovely grandmother in Florida for Senior Week. Once I recovered from the craziness of the month, I had days before my surgery. The lull made me worried, and gave me more time to think than I wanted. Funny, though, I never really vented. I mean, truly vented. I blubbered and whined a little, but I never really let everything out. ...

I really wanted to post yesterday; but I was struggling with a migraine, and unfortunately cannot take any Advil because of being within 5 days of surgery (gulp!), and I wasn’t feeling as joyful as I wanted to feel. I spent Christmas Eve morning with my sister, Anna Marie, at her screening ultrasound. I expect that the folks at the radiology facility will become well acquainted with many of my family members over the upcoming months. She has some thyroid nodules (at this point no surprise), and I razzed her about it being my cancer, not hers, and I am not willing to share. I mean why shouldn’t I get all of the attention? We laughed, and got on with some very last minute Christmas shopping. Truth be told, I think there are just some people who are too good for cancer. My sister Anna Marie would be one of them. She’s the matriarch of the family and the glue that holds us siblings together. I think my sister Grace and I secretly compete for her attention, sort of like being ...

And now the cycle begins. My cousin got an ultrasound as soon as she found out about Janina, and now she has one nodule in her thyroid. My mother woke up early this morning to go with my aunt (her oldest sister) to her ultrasound appointment. I don't even want to think about what the possibilities are. Mom said something interesting to me last night. She said, "Dori, you probably saved all of our lives." Say what? Everyone in my family is popping up with the same problem. I feel like a statue. A statue that stands in the middle of all this turmoil, and I can't move. I can't come alive and do anything to fix it. All I can do is talk. Talk talk talk talk talk. Tell them this, tell them that. I can only comfort. I can't take it away. I can't wave my magic wand and eliminate it. All I can do is hold their hand, answer all of their questions with honesty and no sugarcoating, and pray to God that this is easier for them. T-minus 6 days until Mom's surger...

I'll be truthful; I only waited until now to post because I wanted to wait to see what my mother was going to write about. I've been having trouble trying to figure out what to say, especially since, for the most part, I've said all I've thought the past few days. It's hard to write about something new when your mind is blank. I hardly know what to think these days, but yesterday really brought things home for me. This shit's real. Plain and simple. I'm being very straightforward here because everyone else tends to beat around the bush with cancer. No fluff here. I refuse to be that person. Cancer is real. It doesn't toy with people. It's like watching duels in old films; one doesn't often survive while the other thrives. It was bad enough when my brother-in-law got diagnosed less than one year after me. I hated the feeling of that. It frightened me, especially since all of the motions of cancer were fresh in my mind and very recent. Luckily,...

My only thought up until now has been what a sad and unfortunate coincidence it is that Dori and I both developed thyroid cancer. At least that was my thinking up until yesterday…and then WHAM!, to my absolute surprise and major disappointment, I learned that my oldest daughter, Janina, was found to have three thyroid nodules on screening ultrasound – two of which need to be biopsied. All I can think of at the moment is ENOUGH ALREADY! Aside from being a truly amazing daughter, granddaughter, goddaughter, mother, wife, sister, aunt, cousin, niece, and friend, Janina is, without a doubt and hands-down, the best person I know. Everyone around her would agree. She’s the rock of the family, the go-to person, the first one to volunteer, the one you can always count on, the caretaker, the shoulder to lean on; and she does all of this willingly, unselfishly, and as if it comes naturally, which I’m sure it does, at least for Janina. So the day before my surgery, she will undergo biopsie...

People look at me with the most predictable faces when I tell them I've had cancer. I get one of three looks: pity, confusion, and blank. The blank one is the funniest, because that usually means they are either trying to figure out if I really did say "cancer," or it is because they are trying to choose their words carefully. It really is boring, actually, telling people about my story. It's all the same stuff but from different people. Every so often I revel in the sea of pity, more than likely because I am mildly depressed. But more often than not, it irritates me. I was one of those people who used to think that people with cancer pitied themselves, that they walked around looking like death because they had no other mindset. I only have one word for that: bullshit. Through i[2]y and my encounters with other cancer fighters/survivors, I have met some of the most incredible people. My sister and brother-in-law are both cancer survivors, my sister from cervical...

I get the most puzzling looks when I tell people that I have thyroid cancer, since most of these people know that my daughter has it as well. Even the doctors are a bit surprised. I’ve been asked about everything from radiation exposure to cancer cluster. The cancer cluster issue is an interesting one, and probably worth exploring, particularly because my daughter’s husband, Michael, was diagnosed with thyroid cancer about a year after Dori, and they lived across the street from us for about 6 years. We sold that home and moved in 2004; it was checked for radon at that time. According to my endocrinologist, there is a particular type of papillary thyroid carcinoma that has familial tendencies. He plans to explore this with me at a later time. So, in the meantime, everyone in my family is getting a screening ultrasound. My son has a cyst on his thyroid that his doctor feels is of no significance, but you bet we’ll keep a close eye on it. If it is genetic, it looks like I started t...

Today was a great day.  I was actually more focused on what to get certain people for Christmas than on my  upcoming surgery.  I just hate when bad situations consume you, stop you dead in your tracks, and you just can't seem to focus on anything else.  But not today.  I spent the day shopping with Dori and Merril, racing through the mall, from store to store, level to level, looking for the perfect gifts for some pretty perfect folks.  Came home and shoveled two cars out of the driveway and the back walkway.  Exercise is the perfect stress reliever!   When I lay my head on the pillow tonight, I'm hoping that all of that shoveling will help me fall into a deep sleep.  Sometimes, when the house is quiet with everyone in peaceful slumber, I lie awake and think about what's ahead, or at least what I think is up ahead.  I remember what Dori went through and wonder if it will be th...

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 ...

I think the hardest part about being diagnosed with thyroid cancer is the tendency to re-live my daughter's diagnosis back in 2006 and subsequent journey with what her doctor calls "persistent and troublesome" thyroid cancer.  I can remember saying at that time "why not me?", "please, pick me..not her".  I guess I should have watched what I wished for.  But believing that everything happens for a reason, and we are where we are meant to be at all times in our lives, I have a strong feeling in my gut that we are on this journey together for a greater purpose.  So far, for me, it has been a whirlwind of events.  Visit with my internist with complaints about neck discomfort, subsequent ultrasound, subsequent biopsies, diagnosis of thyroid carcinoma, more subsequent biopsies, scheduling of surgery.  That's it in a nutshell.  As I await surgery, I oscillate between feeling positive and negative, courageous and scared to death, supported and ve...

I never imagined I would have to watch from the sidelines. It's hard to imagine that my mother would have to fight cancer after me, let alone the same exact type. On December 11, 2009, my mother was diagnosed with papillary thyroid cancer. In 9 days, she will have her thyroid removed and probably several lymph nodes as well. I still can hardly fathom this whole ordeal. Mom told me over the phone when she found out. I was at my school decorating for a charity ball when I received the call. She sounded so relieved, so...normal. I was amazed and nauseated at the same time. Right away, I started sobbing. I could hardly believe my ears. It felt like a dream. My friends gathered around me and placed their hands on my shoulders, arms, back. Their touch was the only thing reminding me of the reality I was facing. Earlier tonight I was reading a chapter from Kairol Rosenthal 's book, Everything Changes: The Insider's Guide to Cancer in Your 20s and 30s , when I stumbled across a...