The Legacy Lives On: What Can You Do?

Newsflash: Radiation is not good for you. Yes, it has the life saving properties that help fight cancer, one of the only options we really have. I am one of those conspiracy theorists that believe we can do much better, and that politics win out over the ultimate fight to save lives. Instead of going into my crazy theories, I will just give you an idea of what one cancer survivor has endured. Granted, my cancer fight was peanuts compared to what others must go through (more aggressive and difficult cancers, much more horrific treatments than even I can imagine, etc.), but it's not to say it hasn't taken it's toll.

My journey has went something like this: surgery to remove my thyroid along with the cancer that had spread to my lymph nodes in my neck. Two months later, I ingested the radiation pill that would work to kill the cancer. Problem is, it sure does a lot of damage in the process. I am only about 3 years out and have already had multiple procedures and surgeries to combat some of the damage it has already caused. When we hear about someone surviving cancer, we cheer to the heavens that their fight is over. It is certainly not.

Not to go into too much detail, but the few health problems I've already faced haven't been fun. Last year my salivary glands protested against me by making my cheeks blow up and creating pain whenever I would eat. After some testing, and the "there's nothing we can do" diagnosis, it miraculously went away. I was shocked. Earlier this year, I started noticing a similar pattern to the start of problems with my tear ducts. No, I was not high, nor did I have pink eye. My tears (and all the other fabulous gunk that builds in your eye) would no longer drain. I never went anywhere without my tissues and red-eye relief drops to be the stand-in for my damaged tear ducts. It doesn't sound that bad I guess, but trust me when I say you need to be thankful for working tear ducts. It sucks without them.

The miraculous healing I'd experienced with the salivary glands did not happen. So 3 surgeries later, I sit here awaiting the results once again of my most recent experience with going under the knife. Two holes drilled through my skull and a second set of tubes in my eyes later, I'm hoping I've won this battle. Not sure that I've won the war, but at least there may be some victory on the horizon.

I have been reading the blog of a mom somewhere out there in google-space about her 5-year-old son, Ty's, battle with cancer and how it tragically ended last month. I've read of how hard they fought to save this curly-haired, little blond angel to no avail, despite the rigorous medical regimen his tiny body had to endure. He had lost mobility and most pictures I saw of him in his last year of life were under the covers watching life go by- although I truly believe his parents helped him live life to the absolute fullest and that it was nothing short of beautiful. It makes me cry every time I think of him though. If I didn't have kids of my own, I often think of how I'd take his place in a heartbeat.

There is no way I am comparing what I have gone through with this little boy's fight. Not in the least. It does highlight the tragedy of what cancer patients must go through, and reminds us that we are a long way away from treatments that don't kill us in the process. Treatments that kill cancer and not our livelihood. Until the day for a cure like that arises, we need to be praying. Praying for kids like Ty who will never get to see the day. And please keep his family in your prayers and the fight they are making against pediatric cancer. Take one look at this little boy, and get angry with cancer. I did. But then pray and ask how you can help in the fight. I will too. Here is a link to Ty's blog: http://www.superty.org/2012/11/misery-does-not-love-company.html

Ooh, Lolli-Lollipop

So the news isn't perfect, but it could be worse. After my round of shots and blood draws to celebrate my cancer-versary, my doc informed me that my thyroid levels aren't exactly what they should be. The radiation that left me disjointed from the human race last year was supposed to obliterate any and all thyroid tissue (and thus, cancer) from my body. So we were looking for a big goose-egg on the test, but it came back at 0.5. She said that a 2.0 would have won me a full body scan, but a 0.5 earned me a trip out the door with my screaming kids. My doc said she really wasn't worried though, and that my levels could still be going down. She wanted to schedule an ultrasound to see if she could pinpoint what might be going on just for kicks. Sooo, is it cancer or healthy thyroid tissue left? Where's that carnival weight-guesser guy when you need him?

So while my boys played Romper Room in the exam room, my doc slid her fingers across my neck to search for nodules. While Rowen was "playing" with Lane and making him scream bloody murder, I was secretly hoping she'd just choke me and take over custody of my precious brood. Instead she said she felt "something" in my neck that felt like a nodule. Not exactly the blast from the past I was looking for. She tried to make me feel better by saying it probably wasn't anything to worry about, but I've been there, done that, and got the t-shirt to boot.

It's likely that all this adds up to nothing, and I hope it does. It's not easy to lay your head on the pillow at night wondering if you still have cancer though. And while I know it is an easily treatable cancer, the treatment is not something I want to repeat. You don't exactly want to blast your body with a double dose of radiation for the heck of it. Yeah, not so much.

Feeling a little dejected, I left the doctor's office sticking lollipop #4 into Lane's pie-hole (yes, I will gladly admit to 4, and furthermore praise the Lord for the all-powerful lollipop!). I know in the end it won't be a big deal, but I just wish my doctor could have given me better news and closed this chapter of my life. Let's hope it's nothing another lollipop won't fix.