Cloudy with a 40% Chance of Cancer

In June at my yearly OB/GYN appointment the doctor found a rather large lump on the right side of my neck.  She tested my TSH levels to make sure my thyroid was functioning correctly and it was.  She said to keep an eye on it, make sure it doesn't get bigger or change shape or cause pain and to see my primary doctor.  I was like:

On August 22nd (my birthday!) I saw my primary doctor.  He felt my lump and said he was worried about thyroid cancer.  As soon as he said the C-word I stopped listening.  Cancer?!  SERIOUSLY??!!?!  Are you fucking crazy?! I don't have time for cancer!!!! Aren't I too young for cancer, I turn 33 TODAY!!!  I wasn't scared, I wasn't sad...I was fucking PISSED!!!!  Cancer?!  Hell No.  I was to go home and make an appointment for further testing with an endocrinologist.

I had to wait 6 weeks to see the endocrinologist.  Well, the lump had been there for at least 8 months, another 6 weeks wasn't going to kill me.  There was also only a slight chance it was cancerous, just 5%.  Nothing to worry about.  So six weeks later I go to the endocrinologist to have her tell me that it's a big lump...but not huge...but it needs a biopsy.  Three days later they shoved needles in my neck (it didn't hurt) and took a biopsy of the lump.  The results came back inconclusive and needed additional gene testing.  Yesterday the doc called me to let me know that after gene testing, the lump now has a 40% chance of being cancer and needs to come out.  They won't know for sure if it is 100% cancerous or not until it comes out.  It's also pushing on my vocal cords and making me sound like a man.  Or like I've had a cold for the past 9 months.  So taking it out was always going to be the plan anyway.  Because pretty soon it's going to look like another head is growing out of the side of my neck.

You don't think too much about cancer until it happens to someone close to you.  Or to yourself.  Last night I had a nervous breakdown and threw a fit for about an hour on the floor in my basement.  Screaming and snot bubbles and all.  I was mad!!!  Poor Rosie hid under the bed from me for an hour.  But then I was over it. No more crying.  No more feeling sorry for myself.  I don't have time to worry myself silly over something with a 40% chance of being cancer.  Just get it out of me.

HA!  I just noticed that my last blog post was This Is NOT a Diet Blog.  Well...it's NOT a cancer blog either.  There's no obsessing about it or dwelling on it; just dealing with it and moving on with life.  Hopefully I will have some sweet Frankenstein stitches in my neck and I can make up a cool story.  Like how a bear was about to attack me and I was defending myself and stabbed my own self in the neck!  Well...that's kinda dumb. But I'll think of something.

Someone gave me the bright idea that we should fence off the boyfriend's backyard and get a couple Alpacas so that he won't have to mow the yard!  I think that's a FABULOUS idea!!  But how about an Aplaca and a fuzzy DONKEY!!!!!

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