I've had a lot of folks ask me how I've gotten to this place and how I decided that I wanted actively to fuck thyroid cancer. I can tell you two things: 1) I'm here. 2) I would like to fuck it. For me and for everyone else who's had to hear Those Words. But that's for another story another time.
For this time, I'll give a quick snapshot of this journey -- one I'm sincerely hoping ends tomorrow.
Spring 2011 -- I start to notice a small lump on the left side of my neck while shaving. Guys, you know the move: tilt the chin all the way up and do one nice smooth stroke down with the razor. Mine became a bit unsmooth, but I didn't think too much of it. "There's a lymph node there," I thought. "I just might be fighting something" (foreshadow!).
Summer 2011 -- the lump becomes noticeable, if you know what you're looking for. Yes, while I was gaining some weight throughout the year, it was odd nonetheless that my dress shirts wouldn't button at the top for ties at weddings. And when I tried, I was 'that guy'. The 'get-a-bigger-shirt' guy at formal events.
August 2011 -- my dear friend Michelle, who is battling thyroid cancer in a big way, doesn't think me joshing about the lump in my neck is a laughing matter. She demands I get it checked out. She scares me.
September 2, 2011 -- my last day of work at Microsoft. And the day I decide to get it checked out at UW Medical Center. I'm seen by an intern who pokes and prods and asks and clarifies. I demand she diagnose me on the spot. "You have cancer," she says. We both laugh hysterically at my demand and her deadpan. I still think it was funny. The doctor pokes and prods and asks and clarifies. She says, "Well, it's certainly not that firm." "Piece of advice," I offer. "Never say that to a male patient." BAM! Two for two! She recommends blood work and an ultrasound to rule out anything funny. I have blood work done that afternoon, schedule an ultrasound for the following Friday, and head to work.
September 7, 2011 -- I move to Vancouver, WA.
September 9, 2011 -- Back in Seattle to wrap up loose ends from the move and to have my MSFT exit interview, I head back to UWMC for a 2PM ultrasound. I arrive early (~1:50) and shockingly (!), I get whisked right in to my appointment. I'm in & out by 2:10PM after the tech tells me that the radiologist is out of office for the afternoon and they'll likely read my ultrasounds on Monday and I should hear from my doctor by Tuesday at the latest.
3:38PM -- My doctor calls. There's something abnormal about your ultrasound, she tells me. The Radiologist read & red-flagged them. Time to see a specialist.
September 17, 2011 -- I'm able to get in to see Dr. Neil Gross at Oregon Health & Sciences University (OHSU). He got the ultrasounds, confirms the red flag, and suggests another ultrasound and fine needle biospy to get tissue samples. The tech doing my ultrasound decides to let me see the images. I see the mass; she is huge. Now I am scared.
But I'm also totally man-style. I buck it up, get the FNA done, and am told that Dr. Gross will give me a call in about a week.
September 29, 2011 -- my first day on the new job. I'm actually in Boise, ID, on our construction site, in a hard hat, and surrounded by macho construction guys. I get the call. The mass is benign. I weep like a small child. And I'm OK with it.
Dr. Gross suggests I get the mass removed because it's pretty big: 6.24cm diameter (~2.5" across); and it's growing. "The longer you wait, the bigger the scar," he tells me. We decide to schedule an appointment to measure growth rate about 6 months out, then to determine course of action.
January 17, 2012 -- I revisit Dr. Gross and have new ultrasounds done to measure the mass. My friend Craig from NYC has dubbed it "Chad" because he thought I may have overfed Chad during the holidays. "Chad's a fatty," he reminds me. It turns out, he's right. "Chad" has grown from 6.24cm in diameter to 6.69cm in diameter, or about 25-30% in volume. With that growth rate, we decide it's time for Chad to go. I schedule surgery.
February 1, 2012 -- Surgery to remove Chad and the left half of the thyroid Chad had taken over. I check in at 9AM. Surgery is at 11AM. I check out at 3PM. I have removed the mass. I am on the mend. There are no problems.
February 8, 2012 -- Dr. Gross calls. I think it's a courtesy call one week after surgery. It is, kind of. We talk niceties. I boast that I am an amazing healer and thriving. He suggests my scar gives me street cred.
He drops the C-Bomb.
"I have some bad news," he says. "We actually found two types of cancer in the tissue we removed." Not going to lie, the rest was hazy, but I had enough wits about me to grab my notebook and a pen and jot a few notes down. They found both a papillary carcinoma nodule as well as a follicular carcinoma and suggested I get back in to have the rest of my thyroid removed.
In subsequent appointments, I learned that Dr. Gross is confident -- based on development of the nodules -- that the cancer may be isolated to the half of the thyroid they already removed. The follicular carcinoma had started to 'leg', however, so they'll only know once the rest of the thyroid is out and additional tests can be run. Depending on what they find, I will then have a host of short- and long-term options in front of me.
This brings me to tonight and answers the question of how I got here. So, as I face a 6AM check-in at the hospital tomorrow, I spent my night cooking dinner, giving Copper a bath, vacuuming my car, sorting mail, doing laundry, visiting with my Mom, and generally ignoring what tomorrow will bring. Why? It's my way of Fucking Thyroid Cancer... by not even paying attention to it.
The reality is this, however. Surgery tomorrow doesn't worry me. Yeah, it won't be awesome, but it's not what makes my stomach turn. This second surgery is merely a pre-cursor of what's to come about which I have no clue, but I'm guarateed to experience: thyroid replacement drugs... additional(?) cancer treatment, weight gain/loss, energy management, etc. How I'll get *there* is what is keeping me up just now.
I just have to rest knowing that this is all a part of the process. And the process I'm choosing has a name: Operation FTC.
So, Fuck Thyroid Cancer.
In fact, Fuck THAT Cancer altogether... whatever cancer you want! But in the next week, I'd love you to join me in fucking mine. :)
