Cancer sucks.

I've been hesitant about posting this on Facebook. I've told very few people about the specifics of what's going on with me right now, but word does get around and I'm finding that I'm having the same conversation over and over. I really appreciate people wanting to know how I am, but that repetition is has been draining. Facebook has become my primary point of contact with many people, so it's the most logical place to talk about this.

I've spent the last several years keeping very much to myself physically and emotionally, not necessarily for the best of reasons initially, but I have, in many ways become quite a rock. Isolation has many wonderful lessons to offer when taken in moderation. But things are going on now that are leaving me weak in the knees, and I can't be and don't want to be a hermit anymore. Comfort, support and hugs are quite welcome.

Remember my thyroid surgery back in October? The thing that I've been dancing around is that, 10 days after the surgery, I received a call from the surgeon telling me that, after my excised thyroid was sent to pathology, a big surprise was found: a very large follicular carcinoma. Thyroid cancer.

Several despair filled weeks later, I met with my new endocrinologist, and he explained things in detail. Follicular thyroid cancer is considered just about as treatable as the more common papillary cancer. The difference is that follicular is more aggressive. It is angio-invasive, meaning that it spreads through blood vessels rather than through the lymphatic system. While my chest x-ray, CT scan and MRI showed that my lungs were clean, he did point out that the large size of the tumor opened up the very real possibility of there being microscopic metastases in my lungs. At least I know the score, and knowing really IS half the battle because that knowledge made me relax and stop despairing.

To make a long story short, I'm in the process of preparing for my body scan to determine the extent of the spread (if any). I went off of Levoxyl a few days ago and started on Cytomel, a fast acting, short-lived thyroid hormone replacement. In two weeks, I stop all thyroid medication all together. For two weeks. At the same time, I am to eat a very low iodine diet. I have a whole set of guidelines that I need to follow. The goal is to deprive all remaining thyroid tissue in my body (and what is this cancer but more thyroid tissue) of iodine so that they greedily soak up the thyro-destructive radioactive variant.

(I "accidentally" went on the diet a few weeks ago and realized that it's actually pretty easy. The only big issue for me was coffee creamer (those 300 calorie cups of coconut milk in my coffee have let an impact!). I found truly non-dairy creamer at the kosher grocery the other day. It doesn't taste half bad and will allow me to enjoy my caffeine vehicles all the better.)

January 5th, I report to Nuclear Medicine and receive a tracer dose of iodine. The next day, I come back for my full body scan. This is the day I fear the most because that's when we find out the extent of the spread. The next day, I come back for the ablative dose of Iodine-131. The dosage is dependent on what the body scan reveals. I take the pills and then rush home, where I am to be locked away for about a week. I will be quite radioactive and a danger to people close to me. I even have to keep the cats locked away. During this time, I will be as hypothyroid as you can get, so life will be pretty miserable. At least I'll have a lovely glow.

I do find it amusing that this has all come to be even after I've spent the last few years working so hard to make myself healthy. I quit smoking. I lost 80lbs. I became an avid cyclist, hiker, explorer. I learned to love the feel of sweat pouring down my face and the pounding of my heart in my chest. I loved being outdoors, wind in my face, the sun in my eyes and me as happy as I had ever been. I made the Summer of 2009 the best summer of my entire life, because I really lived it.

Here's the thing: this situation sucks. Hard. In the bad way. I have no idea how things are going to turn out. But it's funny how a life threatening situation helps to reprioritize your life. I always thought it trite, but every day, I grow to appreciate sunshine more and more. The feel of wind and rain on my face. The look on a stranger's face when they realize that you are smiling at them. Hell, just smiling is pretty great, and I'm doing it more and more. I'm getting out, meeting people, making friends and it feels wonderful. My social phobias are completely gone. I'm more confident than I have ever been. I'm awesome and it's great. Whether or not I beat this, I'm alive and healthy -right now-, and I'm making sure to take advantage of it while I can.