It has been too long!

No exaggeration. It's been a month since the last blog entry. A MONTH! I'm so sorry. So much to say, I'm not really sure where to begin.

I'll start with my holiday in London. I had a great time! Here are some things I did:
1)Went shopping (of course)
2) Ate (of course)
3)Got annoyed by tourists whilst doing touristy things (stop creating long lines! Stop stopping in the middle of the street! Stop loudly eating crisps in the V&A!)
4)Met a friend for dinner (poor thing burnt her fingers on churros!)
5) Saw Duncan from Blue
6)Made mum walk around a theatre with me because it is where The Crippling Of AN Irishman is being shown and I thought Daniel Radcliffe might be in the building.

The only downside was coming down with nausea AGAIN, and being unable to come home on the day we were supposed to because I was too ill. I felt like kind of an idiot though, because, I started that week off feeling a bit tingly but, I really didn't know what to do about it at the time. I rather unwisely decided to take matters into my own hands and increase the dosage of my alfacalcidol and that is what I believe triggered the nausea. I was just getting over a bout of nausea, too. It just wasn't fun. Kind of put a dampener on things, but I did still have fun!

When I came home, I was fine for a few days, but then I was hit with nausea AGAIN! Fortunately, An ENT doctor rang with the results of my CT scan, and I told him about my nausea and explained that no-one from the endocrinology had called me with any results. Good old Dr. Prowse, King Of Getting Things Done, managed to chase them up and they called me with some results! A nice lady from the endocrinology department told me that I was indeed on too much calcium! Quite a lot in fact. The level you should be is around 2.2, and 3 is too high. My level was 2.97 so it was verging on too high! Not only was I taking too much calcium, but I was taking too much thyroxine as well! I was taking 125 mg one day, and 150 mg the next, and alternated depending on the day. Now I only have to take 125 mg each day, which is great because I don't have to keep track anymore! I also now only need to take two calcichews a day (cannot tell you how much joy this news brought me), and instead of taking 1 mg of alfacalcidol twice a day, I'm now taking 0.5 mg of alfalcalcidol once a day. I have to go for a blood test on Monday to check my levels of things on this regime (for lack of a better word) I'm fine with that, because I am pretty positive my calcium levels are slipping. It's taking a very long time to get the balance right, but my doctors are great and seem genuinely concerned about helping me.

Other than all that, I'm okay. I've got my eye on a theatre group I want to join (that makes it sound like I'm watching them from the bushes. I'm totally not). I also got a jewellery making kit, which will get my creative juices flowing and keep me occupied!

That's all I think...I'll try not to leave it so long next time.

Little victories

Well, I have been dying for a holiday. I just need a break! My only problem is all the appointments I've been having! I just didn't know if I would be able to get away or not. 

So I got an appointment to see an endocrinologist (which was today in fact), and a physio appointment. I decided that if I didn't hear about my CT appointment this week, I was off anyway!

However, I managed to arrange a CT scan for tomorrow, and even though I have had to reschedule my physio appointment (because the physio called in sick), it means I can go away! 

Ah, a vacation! No talking, or thinking about, cancer...or hospitals...and hopefully I won't talk about throwing up...I just want a break from this madness!

Oh, and the endocrinologist appointment was just fine! They're incredibly efficient in that department!  I was very impressed! I still have to stay on the calcichews unfortunately. The doctor said they were the best thing for me to be on, given what I went through. At least all the doctors I've spoken to agree that they're horrible (but what an adorable name for them!) 

I still have a mountain to climb. I don't whether I'm still climbing it and meeting obstacles, or coming down it and meeting obstacles. I do know, however, that little victories like these make it all a bit easier. 

A little catch-up

First of all, I must apologise for the massive gaps between blog posts these days. It is a bit hard to figure out what I should write about these days, and sometimes I just cannot find the inspiration for a blog entry!

However, it has been pretty eventful these past couple of weeks so I actually have some things to say!

My sister hen-do took place about a week ago. It was the furthest I'd travelled and the most activity I'd done since the op. I did get very tired, though. The plan was to have some games and stuff ("stuff" being snacks) during the day, then go to a restaurant for a meal, and then on to a karaoke bar. Now, I managed the games and snack eating, then I had a little lie down so I could be rested for the evening activities. Unfortunately, I didn't last long at the restaurant before I got very tired and achy and had to go home. I had fun up until that moment, though!

The next day I met up with my friend Brittany and we had a little stroll around and some lunch. I just tried to take it easy and sit down whenever I got tired.

I was pretty pleased with myself for how much I had managed to do, but I did need a few days to recover!

Then I was hit with nausea. Ugh, it was horrible, and I could not identify the cause of it! I knew I had a couple of follow-up appointments coming up (one at the BRI. The other at St. James') so I tried to hold on until then. On top of general nausea, my calcichews were making me gag, and I wanted to speak to the doctor about it.

The follow-up at the BRI did not go too badly at all! My main worry was that they would stick a camera down my nose again, but thankfully, they did not! I just spoke to the doctor about how I was feeling and such, and he suggested that the nausea might be due to too much calcium (AGAIN) and sent me for a blood test.

The next day I went to see the consultant at Leeds (where even more blood was taken) and I spoke about how I felt with her. She told me that while my body was still getting to used to everything, I would tire out easily, and it was a matter of pacing myself. She mentioned sending me to an endocrinologist at the BRI whom she works with. She also said that I'm progressing normally which is GREAT, because "normal" is a word that is not normally associated with me!

When I came out of that appointment, the doctor from the day before called me with my blood test results and said he would be sending me to an endocrinologist, and it is probably the same guy the consultant mentioned so, either way I am seeing an endocrinologist! He also told me to come off my alfacalcidol for the rest of the week to bring my calcium down again and then when I go back on it, take one a day. The reason he's referring me to the endocrinologist to sort out this business with my dosage! I may ask this endocrinologist if there's something other than calcichews I could take!

The nausea is wearing off, too, so that's good! Onwards and upwards!

Oops

AKA Pesky Calcium part 2. AKA Adele is stupid.

So, I'm an idiot. No, I am. I really am.

I've been having low calcium again. *big sigh* See, I'd misread the dosage of my alfacalcidol, and I'd been taking a little bit more than I should have So I ran out of the stuff pretty quickly. The specialist nurse told me I could manage for a while without it, but it turns out that a while is only a few days...before you start having low calcium symptoms. I went off to the hospital for a blood test (by a nurse who was qualified to do it but a bit nervous, and as a result has left quite a bruise!) My levels had dropped some but, they gave me some alfacalcidol (and told me how much I should actually be taking!) and said that should fix it.

The thing is, since about Friday/Saturday, I've had a stinking cold. On Sunday I had horrible catarrh and kept throwing up. I threw up a few times right after taking my medication, so I'm not sure it really took effect.  That, and I think my body got used to me taking me more alfacalcidol than I should have been taking, so when I started taking less it all went a bit mad.

So, I called the hospital and I'm back to taking the amount I was mistakenly taking and I have to go in on Friday for another blood test (in my non-bruised arm)

I feel a bit better, but it's still taking effect. I guess the bottom line is, I can't be blase about any of my medication. I am so careful with my levothyroxine, but because my calcium levels WERE stable, I wasn't as careful. Lesson learned!

If this whole ordeal with Stupid Cancer has taught me anything, it is how to listen to my body. If this recent incident has taught me anything, it's that I need to be careful with ALL my medication. It's serious. I can't be blase with it.

Sorry, body. I'll be good to you now. (Only on the medication front, though. I can't make any other promises because of cake.)

The operation

I realised the other day that I have never actually talked about this. (It might get gross. Warning you now)

I have been thinking about it a lot lately. When I look back on it, I'm not sure I have ever been so nervous. When we got to the hospital, it all started to happen so fast. In a way I was grateful for it, but I also wanted to shout,"STOP! Just stop a second!" I was just confronted with everything all at once, and I didn't really have time to absorb it all. Perhaps that was a good thing? Whilst I was in hospital, I watched a couple of other patients wait almost all morning to be taken down to theatre, and in a way, that made me thankful that I  had not had to wait very long.

I arrived, and a nurse asked me some questions and gave me my anti-embollism stockings and hospital gown (which, I'm happy to report, did not have a butt gap in!) Then I met the anaesthetist and the consultants. I just kind of nodded as the consultants were talking. Like I said, I wasn't really absorbing anything, and I'd had the procedure explained to me a few times before. The anaesthetist was really nice and very matter-of-fact.

Next thing I knew, a nurse came to walk me down to theatre (why is it called that?) where I got ready to be anaesthetised. Now, whenever I talked about my operation with people, before the event, two people told me they loved the feeling of "going under" and one told me that they hate it. Their reason for that, they said, is because they have no control over the situation. At the time, this sort of rang alarm bells, because you all know how much I hate when I can't control something! *glares at flush on toilet*

Turns out, though, going under was quite a pleasant sensation! I lay there with a mask on my face, grinning inanely and enjoying the swirly whirly sensation of going under. Waking up, however, turned out to be worse for me!

They'd told me that to bring me round, they simply reverse the process of the anaesthetic. I had no idea what that meant, or how they would do that, so I didn't know what to expect. I guess I thought somebody would be gently tapping my face and saying,"Adele, wake up..." or something like that. Instead, I opened my eyes to find myself in a different room with people bustling around me, and I just flipped out!

I'm a little bit embarrassed about the way I reacted to be honest. I just felt so sick, and I didn't know where I was. I hadn't even had any crazy anaesthetic-induced dreams! All I knew was that I had felt a swirly whirly sensation, and then the next thing, people are attaching oxygen masks to me (which I took off, because it made me feel claustrophobic. They put tube things in my nose instead). I was vaguely aware that some time had passed, though.

For the next 24 hours, everything felt strange and dream-like. I wondered what I must look like, but did not want to see my reflection (though according to one nurse, I needed some blusher!) I actually tried to avoid seeing my reflection for a few days. It wasn't till Saturday that I forced myself to look at it (and I'd had the operation on a Monday).

I'm not sure there's really any way to mentally prepare yourself for something like this. You just face it head on, I guess. It is frightening to put all your trust in medical staff for a few hours of your life, especially for an operation as major as the one I had! I didn't really have a choice, though. If you are about to go through similar, then I hope I didn't scare you! You'll be fine!

Meh

I don't want to be down. I don't. Fact is though, it's been kind of a blah week. I have done most of the things I wanted to do but haven't really been successful with them.

That, and everything kind of hit me this week. When I was in the midst of treatment I guess I just didn't absorb it. Now that I have had time to reflect on it, it's kind of hitting me. Hitting me and making me sad. As well as just not absorbing it, I think I didn't allow myself to feel sad, because it wasn't really severe or life-threatening (though it did get very scary a few times).

There have been some good parts, though! I guess if this week has taught me anything, it's that I shouldn't deny how I'm really feeling, nor should I force for myself to feel positive if that's not truly how I'm feeling. It's not healthy to wear a mask. It'll all burst out of you eventually, anyway!

I think my advice would be to:

 1)let it out if you want to cry 

 2)Talk to someone about it (I plan on calling someone from Macmillan on Monday

 3)Never tell yourself that can't be upset. You have the right to feel something!

 4)Go outside! Get some fresh air and/or interact with people! Staying inside won't do you any good!

You don't have to be brave all the time, and it's okay to feel! 

So what happens now?

Well, I have been neglecting this! I just simply haven't known what to write. Or I have, but haven't known where to start.

You see, I would never want to lie on here, and pretend that everything is okay. I mean what is the point of a blog if you're not going to be honest? So, the honest truth is that I've been feeling kind of down. I know! I should be running through the streets, stopping only to karate kick the air! I just don't really know what to do with myself.

Not that I want to go back to hospital, or anything like that. I think it's just going back to feeling institutionalised in some way. My life for the past three months has consisted of pre-assessments, blood tests, and hospital stays. I still have to have the odd follow-up appointment, but other than that, it's done. Now what do I do? What do I do with my life now that I don't have to think about packing for the hospital and stuff like that?

The answer is simple, really: I get off my bum and figure out what I'm going to do in this coming week. There's so much I've been putting off but now I can get on with it. So, here's what I want to try and accomplish this week:

Exercising a little bit everyday-- Like walking a short distance. Anything else is rough on my shoulders for some reason.

Contact Butterfly--No, I can't speak to insects. (Imagine if I could, though!) Butterfly is the name of a thyroid cancer foundation, and they have a buddy system where they you put you in contact with someone who's had thyroid cancer. I'd rather be a buddy than have a buddy, so I'm going to call them and find out how I can help.

Do some more writing--I got asked if I want to write an article for a magazine called The Plain Truth. I have a copy, so I'm going to read it and see what kinds of articles are in it, usually. Then, I'll start brainstorming ideas. (I have a few. They just need arranging into something coherent and readable.)

Try to have a social life-- I still have to take it easy, but I really want to hang out with my friends again. I will let them talk, rather than me talking about vomiting all the time.

Get a bit of organisation going--I am not good at this, but the sight of my bedroom floor is distressing me, so a Sort Out is called for!

Call my voice coach--Not sure if I am ready to go yet, but I feel like I owe her an update.

To be fair, this could be condensed into one day. However, I'm very good at sitting around in pyjamas! I will keep you updated, and this entry will hold me accountable!

Onwards and upwards! Clothes, not pyjamas! (Ooh that felt weird to say...) Let's go drink lattes!

I'm back!

That was not a particularly bad experience! The worst parts were the nausea, and the shower that got ridiculously hot with no way of controlling the temperature. Oh, and the DVD player didn't work. Other than that, it was absolutely fine.

Fine is really the only adjective I can think of to describe it. It was pretty uneventful so, there's no stories of ordeals or anything.

It was kind of awkward that people had to stay behind a line whenever they came in the room. Well, it wasn't particularly awkward with the nurses and other members of staff, it's just that I couldn't hug my mum or anyone else who came to visit. I almost wanted to tell people not to bother, but I know I would have been very lonely, and it would have increased my chances of getting verbal diarrhoea when I finally got out!

The thing I was dreading the most was the scan on the last day, which they said could take up to an hour. I just kept picturing an MRI scan, and I felt like being in one of those for an hour would be hellish! It turned out that it was more like a CT scan, and the time was broken up by being moved around, so that the camera could scan different parts of my body. In the end, the worst part was when my nose started to itch and I could not move my arms to scratch it! The good news is, I don't have to avoid crowded places, pregnant women, or children!

I got taken home by one of those ambulance transport people, and I waited ALL morning for them! Fortunately, it was not too boring. I met two people who were going in for the radioiodine treatment, so we chatted about that and I gave them the skinny on what it was like. Funnily enough, one of them had been at the BRI around the same time as me (but had had an easier time of things) and I'm surprised I never saw her!  It was good to chat to people though, and swap stories and such.

So, world, I'm out and about! Watch out!

well here are again!

Going to the hospital tomorrow! Yet again, it is the night before I still haven't packed! It's mixture of procrastination and avoidance probably. I just hate packing as well. I'm probably about to overpack for the hospital! That's new!

You see, anxiety manifests itself in different ways for me. Instead of being anxious about the actual thing, my brain finds things related to it to be worried about.

There's nothing really to be worried about, though. I can deal with needles now (a bit. I'd flinch if I was watching someone else get an injection) and then it's just swallowing a pill!

Also, when I woke up this morning my shoulders felt a lot less stiff and lot less sore. So much so that I carried and cuddled my niece a LOT earlier! I'll probably be paying for that tomorrow, but I have plenty of time to rest! That, and I just can't resist picking her up and cuddling her! Anyway, now I have more mobility, it's going to make this whole thing a bit easier. Up till now, I've had to be assisted in washing and dressing. It wasn't fun, but it was necessary. Now I'm a bit better so no-one will have to risk becoming radioactive just to help me wash!

It's almost over. Except for follow up appointments but, other than that, all my treatment is nearly done! Soon this will be a story that I tell in social situations, bringing the conversation to a grinding halt and creating an awkward silence!

I will see you again when I am less radioactive!

GOAL!

I'm not the most goal-orientated person. I never really have been. Recently I have been getting better at it through encouragement from some people but, I would hardly call myself goal-orientated.

The thing is, in my last year of university I did have a loose life plan (that, looking back, seems both doable and laughable) but then my dad died, and I just got into this mindset that goal-making is pointless because life can change in an instant.

I didn't become some kind of motivated, spontaneous type, though. I just...couldn't find it in me to take much control of my life because I just thought it was pointless to make life goals...and I didn't even know what my life goals were anymore!

Like I said, a couple of people have been encouraging me to think about goals, and what I would really like to be doing. It was going really well, then this happened. I really, really don't want to feel bitter but, I won't lie, a part of me is thinking,"Told you so!"

I've had a lot of time to think about my life, though. Maybe too much time. I'm about to get a lot more time, too. Once this is all over, I can get back on with life. No, I will not immediately become a female Gareth Malone like I wanted to (my left vocal chord got damaged in surgery), but there's other stuff I could do! For instance, this writing malarky is really fun and I would like to do more with that! I still want to try some amateur dramatics (even though I sort of do that every day) . Going through this has made me feel pretty darn fearless. Also, I made a resolution to say "yes" more often, so I need to follow through with that, and stop hesitating when presented with an opportunity.

Yes, June came around very quickly, but it's still only June. The year is still stretching out ahead of me, and, on New Year's Eve I want to look back and say,"Look at all the stuff I did!"

When I am in isolation, I will be making a list. Not a Bucket List. More of a Get On With It list! Maybe I will post it here, to come back to and remind myself! Watch this space!

Hermit

I was out and about yesterday! Actually, I've been out and about a few times, but yesterday's excursion in the town was the longest I have been out for!

I also went to a friend's birthday party last Saturday, but I kind of had to be talked into going by my sister-in-law. Don't be offended, friend of mine, if you're reading this! I'd just become a bit of a hermit. (In fact, sometimes when I'm sat in this particular armchair, I feel like a little bit Rear Window!) It was hermitage on the point of agoraphobia!

I think I'd just got used to being indoors. My shoulders still hurt, so I don't want to be too far from a comfy chair. I feel like public transport would super uncomfortable (not to mention that I don't even know what the bus fare is anymore!) and even if I could drive, I'm not sure I am in a fit state to do so. Oh, and it rains sometimes, and who wants to go out it in the gross weather?

After my friend's party though, I decided that getting out and about was good for me, and if my shoulders started to hurt, well that is what paracetamol is for!

So, my sister and I went into town yesterday. I'll be honest, it was a little overwhelming, and there were times when all I could do was sit and stare at everyone and everything! We took it easy though and I know my limits, so I knew when to call it a day and go home.

It is still a bit frustrating though, because I got very achy and weary yesterday. To the point where I just had to have a little cry and a lie down. I guess that, even though I know my limits, I'm a little bit impatient with myself. I want to do more, but I can't just yet.

I still want to try getting out and about as much as possible. No more hermitage for me! It really wasn't a bad trip to town, either! My financial situation is not as bad as I thought it was (checking your bank balance is always frightening) and I got some new make up!

Now if you'll excuse me, sunshine is calling me!

St. James is a lovely place!

The next stage of my treatment is rearing is radioactive head! Today I visited St. James to have my pre-assessment and see the room I'll be staying in.

It couldn't be more different to the hospital where I had my operation! I mean, that hospital could really take a leaf out of this hospital's book! The staff were so polite, friendly, and well-informed. The building is beautiful. At one point my sister said she couldn't believe it was an NHS hospital!

It was still kind of boring though. Same old stuff. Form filling out and whatnot. I did have to swab my groin, though, which was...new. The nurse doing my pre-assessment turned around so I don't even know if I did it right...ANYway, let's move on!

This part of the treatment is less of an ordeal and less scary than the operation. The operation felt like it was coming towards me like a freight train, whereas this is coming towards like a different thing. Something a bit nicer. A puppy? No, that's too nice...This isn't as scary, let's just say that!

It's crazy though. They bring me the capsule in a lead case. I drop the capsule from some tube thing into my mouth. My sister pointed out that it's a bit weird that no-one can touch it but I can ingest it!

Visiting is very restricted, and the amount of time visitors can spend with me is dependent on how much radiation. So, on the first day, visitors might be only able to spend 20 minutes with me. The same thing kind of applies when I come out. I'll have to be in isolation for a while, but how long for is dependent on how much radiation is still in my system. So while I'm at hospital, I have to shower twice a day and pee a lot, and if getting to spend more than half an hour with someone is dependent on how much radiation is in my system, then that is a good incentive to pee a lot!

The only possible side effects are a queasy feeling and some swelling and tightness in my throat, and I would take that over calcium crashes and vomiting everyday!

I just want to get it over with and do it, because once this is all over and done with, I feel like I can relax and start getting on with life!

Weirdly excited

I'm in a good mood this evening! Possibly because the sun is shining and it's been a warm weekend! I've also just realised that this whole radioiodine isolation thing might be so bad after all.

Why? Well, the room I'll be in has a TV in, an en-suite bathroom, a kettle, and a fridge! So, it is like a hotel room, and if there is one I thing I love, it is a hotel room. Mostly I love a hotel room BECAUSE of the fact that there's a kettle in there, and when I'm in my morning stupor, it's just easier when I don't have to walk very far to make a tea.

The fridge I'm excited because it means I can have a load of Innocent juice and vanilla cokes in there. I have to drink a lot in order to pee out all the excess radiation so I might as well drink stuff I like, right? 

There's a DVD player in there, too, but given that I might have to put some stuff away for a while because they might have traces of radiation on them, taking in my favourite DVDs in seems pointless. 

(There's an exercise bike in there, too. Will I get that bored, though?)

So, there we go. I choose to treat this experience as some kind of holiday. In between now and then though, I have to have a boring pre-assessment, MORE blood tests, and a couple of injections. Then I GET TO HAVE A KETTLE IN MY ROOM!

 

Okay, I'm really tired and I haven't really spoken to anyone today which is probably why this got weird...Goodnight! 

Little bit surreal

Today I got the information about my radioiodine treatment and the other day I received a letter that had been CC'd to me, and contained all the information about my treatment up to this point. Before I went into hospital I received a letter like that as well and, I've got to say it's a little scary to see it written down as cold, hard facts.

The other day I was talking with my sister about how I'd been slightly in denial and wasn't really allowing myself to think about the enormity of the situation. She pointed out that maybe a little bit of denial is a good thing. If you're not at least a little bit in denial, how is your brain supposed to cope with the situation.

Every so often, usually at consultant appointments, I get stark reminders that I am being treated for cancer. Cancer. I'm working on another blog entry about the connotations of that word, but, that word is frightening. Not only that, but it was easier to deal with before my operation, when the problem was referred to as "several suspicious nodes". While I was in hospital however, and now that I'm out, these nodes are being referred as "tumours" or "cancer" (I feel like Dr. Evil). Each time that word is used, I feel like the doctor has slapped me in the face, and I need to second to compose myself.

I'd say 95% of the time, this whole thing just kind of washes over me. Which means that the other 5% of the time I'm like,"WAAAA WHAT IS MY LIFE ABOUT?!"

Would I call myself brave? I don't know. Maybe I just haven't fully comprehended the situation? Maybe our brains just don't allow us to fully comprehend something so mental? At least not all at once. Clever little brains!

I could never ignore this 100% because I'm always getting reminders in some shape or form. It's just so surreal that I haven't really grasped it. In fact, sometimes I could laugh out loud at how crazy it is! I almost feel like I'm outside of myself, just watching it happen. I relish those moments if I'm honest, because it's not fun when I realise what's really happening.

I really don't know if that's a healthy way of dealing with it, and frankly I don't care. I'm dealing with it the best I way know how. Which is mostly with sarcasm and humour!

Looking forward

I have to go in for radioiodine treatment in a couple of weeks time. This involves me being in radiation in hospital, and then being isolated for a couple of weeks afterwards at home (just because I have to avoid pregnant women and children under 16. Just in case).

This gives me a chance to sort out a few things around the house. Like, organising my drawers (*snorts*), organising my toiletries and make up (*snorts...at any attempt at organisation*). Once I'm allowed to be around other people again, there's some other things I'd like to do!

For instance I'd like to go on some day trips, because Ilkley and Harrogate look like lovely places! 

I might revamp my make-up collection and give myself a nice little Spring/Summer makeover!

My sister is getting married so I'm looking forward to the wedding and hen do.

The Lion King is apparently coming to Bradford so I would like to see that if I can!

So, that is my summertime to do list (let's be real, the stuff to do with organising my life might not happen)  I may add more, but for now this gives me something to think about when I'm avoiding people!

Hard work feels good

Today, during a train of thought, I was thinking about how I would like to go on a hike when all this treatment malarky is over. This led me to thinking about hiking in my summer camp days.

It was hard work, and I never did it without thinking a LOT of negative thoughts and having a lot of internal grumbling about it. When we got to the top though, it was all worth it! I got a real sense of accomplishment, and a lot of satisfaction. (Not to mention the joy of taking in the view!) I would be exhausted, but it was a satisfied kind of exhaustion that can only come from putting in a lot of effort. (Oh, and this one time, on the way back down, it started raining. My friend Laura and I just started running through it and yelling at the top of our lungs. Pure joy and very liberating! That has nothing to do with this. I just like the memory)

If we're using this hiking analogy, then I am not even at the top of this hill. If anything, I'm sort of mid-way, eating a pack lunch and wondering how long it's going to take to get to the top. Knowing that there's still a long way to go that's probably going to be tough.

The goal with the literal hill, was to get to the top of it. So we had no choice but to climb it. The goal with my metaphorical hill is to beat it. So I have to go through the treatments.

My literal hiking experiences were not always fun or easy, but fun to conquer. This metaphorical hiking has definitely not been fun or easy, but I know I will feel immense satisfaction when it's all over. I will come back down that hill yelling and running! I will feel good, because I put in a lot of hard work and effort.

The new normal

That's the second time I've named a blog entry after a TV show. Hopefully I won't do one called Have I Got News For You. If I do one called Skins, then assume I've become a psychopath and call the police okay? Okay.

One day in the hospital I started crying because I wanted things to just be normal again. I wanted to be in my pyjamas, in my own bed, drinking tea out of my Simpsons mug. What didn't occur to me at the time was that my life was taking on a new definition of normal.

I'd been in hospital for so long at that point, that it was becoming normal! The next day, my sister brought me my Simpsons mug and put a cup of tea in it that she'd bought in the hospital cafe. Don't get me wrong, I really did appreciate the gesture and if that mug hadn't had tea in it, I would have cradled it like a child. Something felt a little bit weird though. It was like I'd got used to drinking tea out of the NHS mugs. Drinking from my Simpsons mug felt a bit surreal.

I've previously mentioned about how I think you can become institutionalised in hospital, and I did. To the point where, even though having to come back in was incredibly annoying and upsetting for me, I don't mind  saying that part of me was kind of relieved. Some of the staff would say,"Oh, hello Adele! Are you back?" I was nearly like,"Yes! Yes I am! How have you been? What's the gossip?" That soon wore off though, and I wanted to come home again.

I was there for so long that I'd simply got comfortable with the routine. This had become my definition of normal. I knew when I would be brought medication, I knew when I would be given my main meals, I knew when I would be offered a cup of tea. I'd got to a point where I was chatting to the some of the staff like we were old friends! Once I started getting better, it was like being on a rubbish holiday.

Even now that I am out of hospital, I have a new definition of normal. Taking medication is now a normal part of my life. The scar on my neck is normal now. I am adjusting, because I have to. Eventually I will stopped being surprised by seeing my scar in my reflection. Eventually will take my medication without thinking about it (it's doubtful that I will stop whining about a certain calcium supplement though.) Hopefully I will adjust to this new lifestyle as quickly as I adjusted to being in hospital!

This, whether I like it or not, is my new normal.

The worst things

Look, I don't want to get dramatic, but it's going to happen. I'm here to tell you the worst things about being in hospital.

-Hospital food is THE WORST! (The mere memory of it makes me do a tiny vomit in my mouth)

-Blood tests are THE WORST! (Especially when they wake you up at 6.00 in the morning to do them)

-Ward rounds are THE WORST! (Yeah sure, I'll just sit here eating breakfast while you discuss me like I can't hear you)

-Vomiting is THE WORST! (Although Weetabix does make for quite a pleasant vomiting experience)

-Anti-embollism stockings are THE WORST! (They only come in one colour as well. What's up with that?)

-Hospital gowns are THE WORST! (Inadequate dresses)

-Canulars are THE WORST! (They get in the way and they itch!)

-Calcium problems are THE WORST! (Get it together, body!)

-Calcichews are THE WORST! (There's that tiny vomit again)

-Catheters are THE WORST! (Imagine constantly peeing but never getting any kind of relief)

-Using a commode is THE WORST! (They wondered why I had trouble "going". It was a chair with a cardboard bowl attached!)

-Overhearing a doctor and a nurse discuss your poo is THE WORST! (Yeah, this happened)

-Hospital beds are THE WORST! (Weird dimensions)

-Hearing me talk about my poo, pee and vomit is THE WORST! (For you. Probably. Sorry)

-Having to take so much medication is THE WORST! (Previously I thought the three vitamins I'd been taking each day was a bit much!)

-Shoulder and neck pain is THE WORST! (Can't get comfy. Or do anything!)

-Having a really weird numb feeling in my neck and ears is THE WORST!

Okay. I'm done. I think I'm done anyway. Phew! It was so good to get that off my chest!

Angelina Jolie's boobs

Will be the subject of this blog. Without visual aids though, cheeky!

As far as I understand it, she had a double masectomy. A preventative measure, because she was found to have a cancer gene.

Now, I wouldn't necessarily call her a hero. She was presented with an option, and agreed it was the best course of action. However, I still think someone could draw some inspiration from this and I'll explain why.

Aspects of cancer treatment can be demoralising. Having to have a masectomy. Losing your hair during chemotherapy. Even I got a bit of an unpleasant shock when I first looked in the mirror after surgery! You can't always find the strength to say,"Well now I can get a bunch of fun scarves to tie around my head! It'll be fun!" or,"Well now bikini shopping might be a bit easier!" For some it is probably a constant reminder of how unfair the situation is. 

Here's where I come to Angelina Jolie. Yes, the woman has done some weird stuff, but she is still strong, confident, and incredibly beautiful. Losing her boobs is not going to change that (and even she probably had to brace herself when she saw her reflection for the first time after surgery). I hope that other women who've been through this kind of thing would see that they can still be strong, confident, and beautiful. They ARE still strong, confident, and beautiful! 

Strong. Confident. Beautiful. 

The next step

So, today I went to the hospital where I will be having radioiodine treatment soon. It was mostly just a chat with the consultant and the thyroid specialist nurse (that is a thing you can be). Mum took loads of notes, and I just kind of nodded a lot. I'm not as nervous about this really. I just want to hurry up and do it.

This particular hospital is kind of, well, nice. As far as hospitals go anyway. It had a Costa Coffee in for crying out loud! Yes, that is how I measure how nice a place is. By whether or not there's a Costa Coffee. There was art everywhere, and a piano for some reason. The waiting room had some terrible poems on the wall. It's obviously geared towards making you feel more at ease, and probably to trick your mind into thinking you're not in the hospital at all.  Your mind isn't that stupid though. It knows a waiting room when it sees one!

The next stage sounds like it will be less of an ordeal, though. I'll take a capsule of radioiodine on the day I'm admitted and then spend the next few days in isolation. That won't be as bad as it sounds because the room has a TV in it and stuff (not to mention a kettle and a fridge. It's basically a hotel room).  So, hopefully no vomiting or calcium issues. The worst part will probably be when I have to be in a scanner for an HOUR before I leave, to check how much radioiodine is still in my system! An HOUR! I might take a nap.

The highlight of my appointment was finding out that there's actually a thyroid cancer foundation that you can join and they will hook you up with a buddy, amongst other things. So, I will be getting involved in that, I think!

On a different, and more vain note, I feel like I've kind of let myself go a bit. I think being in hospital, even though you're clean, you just get used to wandering around in pyjamas with no make up (and matted, greasy hair because you can't wash it properly). You don't have to really make an effort for anybody so you don't. I just felt a bit self-conscious today because I was actually out in public and I was just very aware of my hair, and my face, and just everything! I just need a lick of mascara and I'll be fine.

I'm apparently sounding better today, and my shoulders do not hurt as much and are easier to move. I still think that being referred for physiotherapy wouldn't be a bad idea, though. I just need to be more patient with myself, I think. I'm recovering from a major operation, not the flu!  Life has not changed that much really. I am without a thyroid and on medication. It's just getting the balance between over-exerting myself, and just sitting around.

Speaking of medication, I should probably go take it now!

The voice

 No, not that TV talent show (though I could go on one, given that I have a killer sob story), I'm talking about my precious little vocal chords.

In my first entry I mentioned that when they take out your thyroid they have to be careful to not damage your vocal chords. I'm sure they were as careful as possible, but unfortunately my left vocal chord no longer works. (All part of the elaborate sob story I will tell at the TV talent show audition).

It's really not that big of a deal as apparently the right vocal chord compensates for it, and people have said that they do not think my voice is all that different. It's just that when you're on your own in a room, your thoughts wander and get pretty melodramatic. All I could think was,"What if I can't ever sing again?" and I had to shake myself out of crying on my pillow like a Disney Princess. 

I have sung a little bit. Just to myself, and the only difference I'm hearing is not being able to hit high notes as well as I could. All I really need to do ,when I'm up to it, is call my singing teacher and fill her in on what's happened so she can try to help me out.

So I have a goal in mind: my sister is getting married at the beginning of August, and has asked me to sing and play something at her wedding. Now, I may only have one functioning vocal chord (which may or may not fix itself apparently) and I may have "limited movement" in my shoulders, but I WILL do this for my sister! Even if I can't play anything properly, I will find a way to sing!

Look out, Current Popular Singer, I'm right behind you!

Pesky calcium

So, turns out, calcium is like, REALLY IMPORTANT YOU GUYS! If your levels drop, it can wreck you.

As well as your thyroid, you have a thing called a parathyroid, and that is responsible for your body not being an idiot with calcium (see? we're educational here at Pandora's Neck) My parathyroid stopped working after the surgery (apparently it is now "waking up") and so I was basically have to feed my body calcium and was at the mercy of raspberry yoghurts and chalky calcium supplements.

Two days after surgery, I was tingling all over, all day. At one point I thought they had set my bed to vibrate or something, it was that bad. It got to the point where I felt like someone was tugging at my skin! Oh, and the rotting cherry on the world's worst cake was that my hands locked! My fingers fused together and could barely move! That was the scariest part.

The most frustrating part is that I couldn't seem to get anyone to understand, or at least be as concerned as I was. Don't get me wrong, the staff were great and eventually helped. Their initial reaction however, seemed to just be,"Yeah it happens" and I was like,"Why is it happening? Make it stop!" It seemed to be wearing off after a while, but then as the night progressed it just got worse. That, dear reader, was possibly my worst night at the hospital, and it took one nurse to finally help me out.

That night I was tingling all over and was severely dehydrated. I did not sleep. I couldn't get comfortable and I was absolutely terrified. At one point, all I could do was shoot up a prayer and say,"Okay, I can't do this with my own strength. Help!" At around 5 or 6 in the morning, a nurse asked me if I was okay, I told her no and explained how I was feeling. My right hand had completely locked, but a nurse had not realised and stuck a canular in it so she could put an IV in. Jess, who'd asked me if I was okay, grabbed my right hand for some reason, at which point I yelped. She asked me if that had hurt me, and when I nodded she FINALLY leapt into action.

She wheeled me around (on the infamous commode, as there were no wheelchairs to hand) to a part of the ward called the Progressive Care Unit, full of beepy machines and IVs. The first thing I saw was a woman, who was not only attached to IVs and various beepy machines, but also had a tube coming out of her neck! I realised then that the situation had got very real and very serious. I want to say that that was my exact eloquent thought, but my exact thought was,"WHAT'S HAPPENING?!" I lay there, bewildered, and feeling like a mannequin again, as Jess and another nurse attached me to an IV and a heart monitor. I told Jess that I felt frightened, and she promised me that it would be okay...and I trusted her, wholeheartedly. Simply because she was the only one to kick into high gear and help me.

I spent about 24 hours in the Progressive Care Unit, but I didn't know at the moment that the was beginning of a vicious cycle. My calcium would drop, they'd hook me up to the IV, I'd be fine again, then my calcium would drop and it would start all over again!

When they thought they had sorted it, they sent me home. It wasn't over though because, guess what? You can have TOO MUCH CALCIUM! I know. I didn't think it was possible either. I spent my second day at home feeling slightly in denial and trying to hold back whenever I needed to vomit. On Sunday morning however, my body fought back and I could not stop vomiting!

My family brought me back to the ward (where we encountered an annoying doctor who obviously thought that being sarcastic made him quippy and witty but instead he was just rude), fluids and anti-sickness medication were pumped into my body and we were back to square one. Apparently though, when your calcium gets too high, you can become psychotic so, I guess that puts vomiting into perspective!

Today I had a blood test, and they said my calcium was at an okay level. I'm still on disgusting medication but, when I initially came home and they had me on three "calcichews," three times a day. Now I'm one "calcichew", three times a day, as well some stuff called One Alpha, so it's slightly more bearable!

 The nonsense with my calcium is what was keeping me in hospital all that time, really. I'm sure I will relax at some point, but for now I am still fearful of it dropping or rocketing up and having to go back. I feel I am always on the alert for tingling, or my hands locking up. Or going the other way and feeling nauseous (or a weeny bit psychotic).  Got milk?

Honey, I'm home!

My my, it has been a while! Sorry about that, but I have been in hospital for an annoyingly long time. 

I have been in hospital for three weeks and now I'm trying to adjust to normal life. I was discharged  for the first time, last week, but then I spent the weekend throwing up and was right back in. If I'm honest though, that first weekend was tough. I just don't think I was mentally prepared for it. 

You see, I think you can become quite institutionalised in the hospital. They wake you up, bring you your medications in little cups (actually, they look like the little cups you can put ketchup in at McDonald's. Which is worrying). They bring you lunch, and more medication. They bring you tea. Then they bring you your final daily dose of medication at night and say goodnight to you. You don't have to take responsibility for it or think about it. When I came out, I suddenly had to do it all myself and I found it rather overwhelming! I felt like a ghost. A ghost who's life was about to revolve around taking medication! Of course, it didn't last long, for I was right back in hospital on Sunday because I couldn't stop vomiting! More on that some other time.

There's also something very undignified about being in hospital. My butt was hanging out of my gown, I had drains hanging from my neck and catheter hanging from...down there, like the worst burlesque act ever. A couple of times I had to use a commode, (if that is how it is spelt) and they are so awkward. I mean, I had a pretty shy bladder to begin with, but then they present you with a chair that basically has a paper bowl attached to it and expect you to use it as a toilet! Now, I don't know about you, but my parents spent quite a lot of time trying to teach me not to go to the toilet in chairs. So, for a nurse the present me with what is essentially a chair and tell me to do my business in it, goes against my natural urges! I've thrown up on myself quite a lot. A doctor pulled the curtain open while I was being strip washed. You just get used to it after a while.

It's been a frustrating time, because I went in feeling relatively well. I became ill after the op! My calcium levels have been up and down (that's a whole other blog entry!), another patient gave me her biscuits when she was discharged and they turned out to be TWO YEARS out of date and gave me food poisoning! I have been throwing up a lot and they didn't really know why. One afternoon I turned to my sister and asked her why my body wouldn't just behave. I had moments where I would just think to myself,"Come ON body! Power up!" I had to keep reminding myself that I'd had a major operation. I mean, they basically excavated my neck! It was taking a while to get back. The doctors were probably just as frustrated as I was. It can't be fun for the doctors when you're looking for answers and they just don't know. At one of my lowest points though, that amazing Cancer Research ad came on TV, and reminded me that I could kick this thing's ass!

I'm very proud of myself though. I have been exposed to needles thanks to endless blood tests and the injection they put in your stomach to prevent clotting or something. Actually, the needle in the stomach was worse than the blood tests and the nurses know it! I had one nurse come in and apologise for what she was about to do, and then tell me she had been trying to avoid it all afternoon! It hurts, and continues to hurt for a good while afterwards. Now when I have blood taken I just get on with it. I can even look right at it! Mind you, my veins have now had quite enough of your needles thank you very much! 

I still have a long way to go though. I have to go back to the hospital tomorrow for a blood test. Then on Wednesday I have a consultation at St. James hospital, so the next stage is rapidly approaching! 

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some medication to choke down.

Here we go!

Well, the hospital appointment is tomorrow and well, I'm not exactly jumping for joy. I mean, yesterday I was acting like I'd been given two days left to live! I'm taking it a bit at a time though, and I've just got to grow some lady balls and face my fears!

I am so thankful for all the lovely people in my life, though. I have been blown away by the kindness of friends and strangers who have done anything from saying kind things to lending me books, to giving me gifts (like tiny, cardboard versions of actors I fancy).  People are good. They just are.

As I type this, I have not packed. I hate packing. This is like packing for the worst holiday ever! Really all I need are pyjamas, toiletries and ALL THE BOOKS! If I'm honest, I'm partially avoiding packing because then it will feel real, but Monday will get here no matter what I do. Let's just take it a bit at a time.

I will have internet access there (I think) so I'll try to hopefully keep up with this. Maybe not Monday or Tuesday because I'll be semi-conscious and won't be able to concentrate on typing!

See you on the other side of the anaesthetic!

The difference a good night's sleep makes!

I woke up feeling much brighter today! Tired, but brighter. For when I came downstairs there was a package for me! Some of my lovely friends had sent me a new dressing gown and some slippers! What a beautiful surprise for me to wake up to!

Also, Julie did indeed bring me David Tennant! Except that this one is tiny and made of cardboard and I can KISS IT AT NIGHT BEFORE I GO TO SLEEP!!! What? He's coming to the hospital to watch over me!

In the spirit of positivity, here are some other nice things that have happened this week!

1) Having a nice pot of tea and a chat with my friend Natalie on Monday! She surprised with a secondhand copy of my favourite Harry Potter book that I can take with me when I go for my radiation treatment. That way, if I do have to get rid of it when I finish the treatment, it wouldn't be as bad as if I had to get rid of my original copy.

2)The pre-op went much better than I thought it would (and when I say that, I mean no needles were involved)

3)Making a new friend! A lovely girl named Rachel, who, it turns out, I have quite a few things in common with!

4)Lovely presents from lovely friends!

5)A nice catch-up Pizza Hut with my friend Becky!

I'm tired, but at least I don't hate all the things this evening!

It has been one of those days

Where the slightest thing has annoyed me and spiralled from there. It can only mean that this situation IS getting to me and manifesting itself in different ways.

One of the things really upsetting me about this hospital stay (apart from the obvious), is that I will miss my friend Brandi's wedding reception. I have been looking forward to this for so long! I'm already sad that I will not get to see her or my friends who I haven't seen in so long but today, I had to cancel my train tickets and I  basically have to jump through hoops to do it! I'm struggling to do it online, and when I rang the call centre they wanted me to send the tickets back with a covering letter and a doctor's note. I guess I'm okay with the covering letter but I don't want to send a doctor's note. I understand that there's a procedure and all that but,  I'm just uncomfortable. If I couldn't go because there had been a death in the family and they wanted a death certificate, I'd be uncomfortable with that as well.

It may seem small, but it's getting to me more than it should because I'm on edge about what I'm about to go through. For the most part I'm positive but I'm also scared. I won't be okay till I wake up from the operation! It's just really on my mind, so I don't want extra stress with stupid stuff like trying to get a refund on some train tickets!

I didn't sleep well last night, which never helps. I think once I've had a good night's sleep I will have a fresh perspective on things. That and at least two fun things will happen tomorrow: 1)getting my haircut finally and 2)my friend Julie is bringing me a present! Hopefully it's David Tennant but let's face it, if she acquired David Tennant, she'd keep him for herself!

I did intend for a much happier entry today but, I did not wake up in that kind of mood! I have allowed myself to cry, be upset, rant and now I can move on!

The pre op assessment

WAS BORING! Boring but somewhat informative. I had my height and weight measured, blood pressure tested and urine tested. Then I was asked a ton of questions about my health. I got to ask some questions, too. I'm still nervous but, they said that was normal.

 They showed me around the ward, and that's when reality really set in. Next Monday evening, I will be lying in one of those beds. The ward consists of little rooms with 1, 2 or 4 beds in. It's mixed, but men share rooms with other men and the women share rooms with other women. It's just surreal that I will be one of those people next week.

Oh, can we please talk about how complicated it is to give a urine sample if you're female? It's like the only time I've had penis envy. Good job Freud isn't here to see this.

I know that I just have to take this a bit at a time. It's just that it still seems like it's so far away and it's not! It's next Monday! I won't feel better till it's all over and done with...When I can say that I'm survivor!

I'm coming for you, cancer.

Hospitals

I go for my pre-op assessment tomorrow. I assume they'll ask me about my family's medical history and at some point, even more blood will be drawn!

This operation feels like it's coming towards me like a freight train right now, though! I think the anticipation is making me more nervous...Maybe. I've never had am operation before, or had to stay in hospital. I have been to hospital before. Once when I swallowed a penny when I was like, four years-old. Then again when a brick fell on my thumb. I didn't have to have surgery or stay overnight on either of these occasions, so I have no idea what I should expect (although according to some people, I should be expecting boredom and dry food). I have to go through with it, though. As much as I would like to say,"Thanks for the offer but I think I'll be okay. I'll just take some ibuprofen and sleep it off!" The only way to get rid of this thing, is to literally get rid of it. They have to take it out.

I just don't like hospitals. I don't know anyone who does! However, once you get past the anxiety of what you're facing, and the funny smell, hospitals are boring. They are boring places, full of waiting rooms with bored people in them. There's no-one running around yelling,"GET ME A BLAHBLAHBLAH!! STAT!!", at least not the times I've been there. It's more,"Nurse can you pass me the thingy?" "Have you seen Dr. Whatsit?" "Mr. Blahblahthingamy, the doctor will see you now!" It's only four or five days of boredom though. I guess I can cope with that!

My GP has been great, the consultants I've met so far have been great, and those nurses are ANGELS! One consultant told me I have a lovely neck, which was a bit weird. Two different nurses have told me I have juicy veins. Despite the fact that the staff sometimes sound a bit vampiric, I really do trust them. They've been anxious to get things moving, helpfully answered my questions, been honest with the results and even shown me my MRI and my CT scan! Being able to trust the staff, makes me feel just a little bit more at ease.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go think of some questions and memorise my family's medical history!

Aftershock:the physical and emotional effects.

It's safe to say that I was very upset. Distraught might be a better word. Life just carried on around me though. As mum and I sat crying in the waiting room, patients were called in for their appointments, other patients were wheeled in and out, a student nurse brought me some water and then went back to what he was doing. I just wanted to shout,"CAN EVERYONE JUST STOP FOR TWO SECONDS PLEASE?!"

To be honest, there have been more emotional effects than physical effects. As far as physical effects go, I'm tired and occasionally my neck twinges a bit. The thing about being tired is, I don't know if I'm suddenly really tired, or if I'm just noticing it more. Also, I sometimes feel like being tired is just written off as an excuse. It's not just being "a little bit tired" though. Too much activity can really knock me out! I was in town for a few hours last week and was basically knocked out for the rest of the evening! It's very frustrating.

The emotional effects range from angry to sad, to feeling very inconvenienced by this whole thing. The other day, someone asked me if I was sleeping okay. I replied that I am sleeping through the night (unless my bladder or a weird dream wakes me up), but I had noticed that my mattress protector had pinged off, my sheets were messed up, as was my duvet. I may not be having nightmares, but evidently I am tossing and turning a lot!

 I usually start feeling sad when I have too much time to think about it all. When my thoughts start circling around. It is okay to be sad, though. I'm mostly positive but it does get to me occasionally, and I allow myself to be sad and seek comfort from family and friends. Luckily I have a great support network and I am thankful for it!

Anger was my initial reaction. I blamed everybody I could think of. Including the doctor who performed the endoscopy and told me he didn't think it was cancer. To be fair though, he did not look me in the eye and definitively say that I don't have cancer. He just thought that based on the fact that I'm young, relatively healthy and not a smoker, I probably don't have cancer! After that I just blamed myself, and wondered where I had gone wrong. The thing is, sometimes you can just be plain unlucky. You could exist on a diet rich in antioxidant foods, drink loads of green tea, and cross the road to avoid secondhand smoke. If you did all that and STILL get cancer, then it's like,"What happened? I'm doing all the things!" Obviously, it is important to try and live a healthy lifestyle, but if you do and you still get cancer, just don't blame yourself. Sometimes, you can just be ridiculously unlucky.

Then there's the frustration. Things would annoy me slightly before, have become intensely annoying since being diagnosed. For instance, the other day the flush on our toilet stopped working. What did I do? I cried. I cried because it was yet another thing in my life that I couldn't fix myself. I couldn't make it go away easily.

I'm naturally a positive person though, and I won't let this turn me into a bitter, angry person who hates life. I don't hate life. I hate cancer. So I'm going to beat it!

Pandora's Neck: the intro!

Welcome! You have stumbled upon my blog (actually you’re probably here because you’re my mum and I’m making you read it. Hi mum!) . So, my name is Adele and was diagnosed with thyroid cancer last month. This blog is a place for me to rant about my feelings and tell you the story of how I came to be diagnosed with this, and what treatment I’ll be receiving.

A few months ago, I discovered a lump in my neck, but at the time I thought nothing of it. Then I started noticing that I was sniffly and tired all the time. After some unwise “googling” of my symptoms, I managed to convince myself that I had ME and that is the reason why I went to a doctor. When I was there, I casually mentioned the lump and “another weird lumpy bit” as I called it. The doctor felt my neck and told me it was a thyroid problem. I guess that explained the tiredness, but at the time I could not have predicted it would be cancer (and if I had, I would have dismissed it as being a hypochondriac).

Since that appointment I have had my blood drawn three times, an MRI scan, a CT scan, two ultrasounds, an endoscopy of my throat via my nose, and three “needle aspirations” (they stuck a needle right in my neck and drained some gunk out.  They need to not use jargon in appointment letters, am I right?) At my second ultrasound, the doctor sighed heavily, and told me that I had a lot of nodes, and while some were fine, some looked suspicious and he was afraid it was cancer. He then stuck two needles in my neck!

Fortunately, it’s completely treatable. I have to have an operation and radiation iodine treatment. In the operation, they will take out the thyroid AND the nodes (including the benign ones, just in case). However, because your thyroid is attached to your vocal chords, they might not get all out of it. Actually, I think that they don’t get all of it on purpose in case they damage your vocal chords (and I love talking and singing so that would not be ideal), so the radiation treatment is to kill the rest of the thyroid cells. Then I’ll be on hormone replacement for the rest of my life, which I can deal with.

The fact that it is treatable however, is little consolation for how rubbish this situation is! “CANCER” is kind of a swear word in my family, because we lost my dad to it in March 2011. We will always associate March with cancer now, and it just kind of brings back all the memories of when my dad was in hospital. It’s crazy to think that this word is yet again. being associated with me, but on a much more personal level. Cancer is sitting pretty and twiddling it’s thumbs inside my poor neck!

I’ve decided to create something positive out of this though, and here we are at Pandora’s Neck. A place for me to rant about STUPID CANCER, and to talk about how treatment is going (which will just be me whining about how bored I am and how great PJs are). Also, if your life has been touched (punched) by cancer, then this will be a place where you can come, and know that you’re not alone. It helps me to know that I’m not alone in this, and there’s people I can talk to and share this with. By making this blog, I feel like I’m paying it forward, and let someone know that they’re not alone. Let them know that if they feel like they are, they can read about this person in the internet, and even talk to me about it.

I hope you enjoy this blog (and that my obsession with parenthesis hasn’t put you off!)