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.

I still can hardly believe that 2009 is over. Sometimes it feels like time is going so slowly, but other times it feels like it's speeding by like a whirlwind.

So 2010 is here. A new year. Hopefully a fresh start for my family and I. Even though the whole thyroid cancer fiasco has begun for my entire family, I feel like we're going to be OK.

When my sister got her biopsies, the doctor said that we should see a genetics doctor to discuss whether or not this is a family thing. The one piece of information that startled me was that, if this is genetic, there's a 50/50 chance that any offspring could get thyroid cancer. Wow.

A close friend of mine, Jon, was also diagnosed with thyroid cancer. He has a tumor suppressant gene mutation, diagnosed as Cowden Syndrome, and there is a 50/50 chance that if he has children, they could get the syndrome.

Mom and I had a conversation on Monday about if thyroid cancer was genetic, and, if it was, would she have had me and my brother, and will I still have children? She said if it were thyroid cancer, yes, she would have still had us. Mom told me that thyroid cancer really isn't life-threatening, as long as it is caught early and closely watched. I wonder, though, what I will do. Would I really refuse my children life because of a disease that very well could not affect them?

I guess that's something I'll have to think about when the time comes. If it ever does. ;)

2009 is over. But the year will live on in my medical history. Whenever I see a doctor from this time forward, I’ll have to indicate that in 2009 I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer.

The big “C” always comes as a shock to people. It’s such a scary word. I can remember really being afraid of that word. Whenever I would meet someone with cancer, either personally or in my profession, I could only but admire their strength, determination, and most of all, acceptance. Acceptance is the most difficult part. But again, that applies to so many things in life. Once we’ve tackled that, the rest seems to follow in a very natural course.

Welcome 2010! I was surrounded by my favorite folks last night as the new year very quietly rolled in. My husband, children and grandson were with me. They prepared a virtual feast. Unfortunately, I could only tolerate a bit of it, so hopefully the leftovers will be around for a few more days. The guys played Risk in the dining room, and the ladies lounged on the sectional sofa and watched movies. Marrin and I drew pictures together and snuggled. Everyone was happy, healthy, and safe. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect New Year celebration.

I’m still working on those resolutions.