Kate's asleep. She woke up at 2 and after a quick bottle went right back to bed. I've been up for two hours reading about the 300+ signs of hypothyroidism. Yes, you read that right. I'm now wondering if that unexplainable year I spent with daily chronic hives was related to my thyroid or if I even had Lyme disease at all [although the bullseye rash, sudden paralyzation and pain in my limbs, and positive titer tests would point to classic Lyme]; wondering if my absolute inability to concentrate or chronic weight loss or extreme anxiety have all been thanks to my thyroid.
I'm so antsy that I want to get out of bed and pace the room for a few hours. I contemplated taking a 4AM walk but I barely have the strength to climb the stairs without my heart feeling like it is collapsing. I'm starving, as usual. My face is numb and therefore my calcium levels are low. My body is not working.
On top of all of this I now have ridiculous family drama to deal with. What a wonderful support system! I'm not sure if I just don't care about what's going on or if I care too much. Either way this is the last thing I need on my (already lacking) plate.
I want to wake Sean up and hold him. He's so sweet when he sleeps. I can see the stress of all of these cancer costs weighing on him and yet he never complains. He knows what it is like to lose someone to cancer and he won't stand for anything but the best treatment for me.
But my cancer is a 'good cancer to have' says the doctor. I'm not even worried about the cancer aspect of this (until we know for sure that we should be worried), I'm just suffering through the side effects. A friend of a friend who also had papillary thyroid cancer called me up when I was diagnosed and said something that will always stick with me: "I don't even consider myself a cancer survivor." This meaningful sentence, along with my surgeon telling me, "You're going to live a long and healthy life" are what get me through the scary cancer part of all of this. I'm not going to worry about that yet. I have to take this one day at a time.
For now I am finding therapy in writing it all down. These days preparing for treatment are creeping by as if time is standing still but I hope that I look back on these entries in three weeks as if they happened in the distant past.