One of the Lucky Ones

Four years ago I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. I was 31 years old. It was just a normal day.  They found it by chance when I was trying to get cleared by my physician to go through fertility treatments again.  I was shocked and terrified. What shocked me even more was my doctor’s choice of words after telling me that my biopsy was positive and the mass in my neck was malignant.  He looked at me and said, "You're one of the lucky ones."  I couldn't understand how he could hand me a diagnosis of cancer in one sentence and tell me I was lucky in the next. I was 31 years old and had just heard the “C” word.  How in the hell was I lucky? This was just the beginning of a long line of people who would tell me that I was lucky that this was "only" thyroid cancer.  Everyone would say that this was the best type of cancer that you could have. I personally didn't think that any type of cancer was good. I also felt those were easy words to say when you weren’t the one who had unwanted killer cells churning around in your body.  I know intentions were good and people were trying to comfort me but, honestly, it just made me angry.  While it is true that my cancer was caught very early and was virtually curable with surgery and radiation, I still didn't feel "lucky". I was irritated with my doctor for using those words. I was terrified at the thought of cancer in my body, especially at such a young age, and I didn't appreciate those fears being diminished. While thyroid cancer may not be as aggressive as other types of cancer and you are given the time needed to fight it, it is still a life-threatening diagnosis and it did slap me in the face with the cruel reality of my own mortality.  It ignited a level of fear in me that I had never experienced.  I'd like to tell you I was strong. I wasn't. I was angry and sad. Just a year and a half earlier, our world had been turned upside down with the loss of our only son. And, here we were, not even two years later, just getting back on our feet and back to a normal sense of reality when our world was once again turned upside down. I had had enough.  I most certainly did not feel like one of the lucky ones.

I have always been the eternal optimist. I am usually the one who can find the light in a dark situation. The one to find a way to laugh when I want to cry. But I couldn't do that this time. I couldn't find that positivity.  I was tired of hearing that things happen for a reason and that God has a plan. To me, this felt like a sentence and not a diagnosis. I was angry and I was exhausted. I was tired of feeling like I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. So I didn't find the light or humor in the situation.  What I did do, was pretend. I would smile when I talked to my friends and family. I tried to pretend that it wasn't a big deal. I patiently nodded and smiled when I was told that I was one of the lucky ones.

Finally, I just checked out. I numbed myself on the outside when I was in public, agreeing with my supposed luck and hiding the deepening sense of grief and fear that I was feeling every day.  And then I went home to face my diagnosis by myself. Because the reality is that, no matter who stands with you, cancer is a road you walk alone.  No one else can face it for you. So after a day of pretending to be strong and positive, I went home and turned out the lights and I battled my demons in the dark. The demons that reminded me that one grandmother and an aunt had already died from cancer and my other grandmother was currently losing her battle. The demons that reminded me that my health had never been quite right and made me question my potential for more aggressive cancers in the future. The demons that will forever make me question the seriousness of every little symptom I have from anxiety to a headache. No matter how irrational my fears might be, I can't get rid of them. You see, all that cancer knows how to do is spread. And while mine didn't spread to my other organs or bones, it spread to my thoughts and dreams and turned them into fears and nightmares. But I'm alive and capable of having those fears and nightmares so I must be one of the lucky ones.

I went in to fight mode.  I put aside my fears and my sorrow to the best of my ability because I didn’t have time for them. I had surgery and radiation ahead of me and a lifetime of trying to manage my thyroid levels.  When my second grandmother died of cancer the day I went in for my surgery consultation, it didn’t even surprise me.  At this point, I was convinced I had done something terrible to piss off the universe and I was just going to get hit at every turn with some more difficult news. Faith was gone.  Hope was scarce.  Dreams were unreachable.  Nightmares were real.  And that was my personal reality at that moment in time.  A difficult one for someone who had always managed to find happiness.  But, hey, I was still one of the lucky ones.

I had never had surgery prior to this.  I went in terrified of being under general anesthesia and terrified that they would go in to find that the cancer had spread.  Hospitals were not new to me but now I had two departments that would forever bring me painful memories over the course of two short years.  Surgery went well.  Cancer had spread a bit into the surrounding tissues but they removed it with good margins and I smiled through gritted teeth when the surgeon, once again, told me that I was one of the lucky ones.

Radiation followed and was an experience all its own with fears of what I was putting into my body and the havoc that it could wreak in and of itself.  Exhaustion took on a new meaning when my thyroid hormones hit ridiculously low levels and I couldn’t get out of bed or really even function.  My muscles were sore and weak and even simple tasks like putting on clothes and drying my hair became burdens I simply couldn’t carry.  My mother in law had to come and stay with me to make sure I woke up for long enough to eat and get some fluids in me and didn’t miss my epilepsy medications.  Hey, did you know cancer, stress, low thyroid levels, and interrupted sleep can aggravate epilepsy?  I felt just, oh so “lucky” to have both of these diagnoses at once…

While, thankfully, my cancer is gone and has not returned, I still battle it every single day.  I battle it from the standpoint that my thyroid is gone and juggling medication on a daily basis results in a fatigue that most can’t understand unless they have experienced it.  I battle it from the standpoint that every time I go to the endocrinologist, I have to take a Xanax because the mere thought of sitting in that office gives me immeasurable anxiety even with the simplest and most routine of follow ups.  There is no complacency.  I am very aware every time I set foot in that office that my world can change yet again.  I battle it from the standpoint that I now have a mass they are watching in my neck yet again that “is probably nothing.”  My doctor is fairly certain it is scar tissue and my blood work is fine so, “it is probably nothing but we are just going to monitor it.”  Same words I heard the first time around.  And they are probably right.  This time it probably is nothing.  But try to tell your brain that when, for the past five years, every time it should have been nothing, it turned out to be something.  And something huge.  Live with that fear every single day of your life, and try to convince yourself that you are lucky this cancer didn’t take your life when, in so many ways, it did just that.  I promise you won’t feel like one of the lucky ones.

Eventually, I did see the positive in the situation, but it's not how you'd think. I still don't think I was lucky for having "only" thyroid cancer. I am still acutely aware of the seriousness of the diagnosis. I still fear what the future holds for me on an almost daily basis. But I think of a bigger picture. I think of my husband on the phone with me when I received my diagnosis, calming me down even when he was in the midst of intense and stressful training and I know this was scary for him too.  I think of my friend, Dan, sitting next to me in the hospital for my biopsy because my husband was out of town and he didn't want me to be alone. I think of my friend, Nicole, who is a physician and sat tirelessly on the phone and answered all of my questions 30 times a day and still talks me off of a ledge when paranoia sets in. I think of my sister-in-law who took time out of her busy schedule to spend the night in the hospital with me after my surgery and keep me company. I think of my mom who dropped everything and hopped on a plane the day after my diagnosis to stay with me and help me during my recovery. I think of my mother in law who stayed with me after my radiation when I couldn't function on my own and my husband had to work. I think of the love and support that surrounded me during one of the lowest points in my life and it was only then that I finally started to feel like one of the lucky ones. 

This diagnosis crippled me with fear in so many ways but it gave me strength to fight and face my other fears. It served me with a very serious dose of reality that my time on this planet is limited and I had better start living my life for myself.  I have since pushed my limits and my comfort zone and have experienced some amazing things and continue to do so on a daily basis.  My fear to face something new and scary has diminished because I have already survived my two worst nightmares.  I don’t feel anger with fellow human beings over petty things because life is too short to be angry.  I don’t feel hatred for this planet because I am just so happy to still be on it.  This gift of a love of life is something I feel many others on this amazing earth have not experienced.  Maybe that is what makes me one of the lucky ones. 

Every day will continue to be a battle.  It will be a choice to accept and face my struggles as they are handed to me.  I will have to decide to fight the demons that will continue to invade my thoughts and overwhelm me with fear.  I will have to choose to be happy and not let it beat me.  But at least I have that choice to make.  So I will walk this lonely and bumpy road for the rest of my life.  And I will walk it in fear because those are the cards that I was dealt. But I will also walk it with hope and happiness because that is the hand that I can choose to play. Because I am one of the lucky ones.