Post-Op In The Hospital: Scar, Strawberry Shake, Silence

I don’t remember much about waking up in the recovery unit. Just flashes of Dr. Cohen, a nurse, my family. Someone patting a cool wash cloth against my lips and forehead. Then there were ice chips. I asked the same question over and over: Did Dr. Cohen remove my entire thyroid? A voice would say, “No. Just the tumor and right side.” I drifted in and out of darkness. I would open my eyes to epic brightness and noise. People moving all around in green scrubs. My father sitting in the chair in the curtained-off area. “Just rest, Christine.”

Tightness in my neck. Pain. Tingling lips. Piercing sore throat.

I don’t remember being moved to my private room. But it was more comfortable than the recovery unit. It looked like a hotel room. I changed into PJ pants and a V-neck T-shirt. I got the OK to drink cherry coke—my dad brought in a case—the nurses enjoyed it like it was contraband. “Take a soda!” I told them. I couldn’t eat yet, but wasn’t hungry anyway.

Pressure cuffs on my legs inflated in and out. I was hooked up to an IV pumping fluids and pain meds. I felt constrained and claustrophobic and a little panicky.

I asked my dad to bring me my makeup bag. I retrieved a compact and looked at my neck for the first time in the little, powder smeared mirror. Slit across my neck. A thin red line, with stitches sewn in and little half bows tied at either end. I knew it would heal and fade, but in that moment, staring at it head on, all new and raw and there forever, I snapped the compact shut and turned over. I watched the drip-drip-drip slipping into the IV bag. It was silent all around me except for the occasional beep or shuffle down the hallway.


Some hot resident woke me up at 5 am to check my neck. Of course he did. He told me his name but I asked for his first name instead. “I’m just going to call you Dr. Jared,” I said. After he examined me, we talked about non-thyroid Cancer things for a little bit, at 5 am, with un-brushed teeth. It was a definite highlight to this BS.


My friend Gustavo came to visit me. He brought me a strawberry shake and ushered me around the floor for some exercise. The nurses called him “blue eyes.” He left. I stayed.

Day was falling into night. Outside, the sky turned purple and I started counting the drip-drip-drips until I fell asleep.


Dr. Cohen discharged me the next day, reminding me to make an appointment for next week to go over the pathology and discuss our next steps.

I could tell in his voice and mannerisms, I wasn’t done here yet.

Home was strange. Jack was at the shore with uncle Carlo for the week so I could recoup in peace. Lucy was excited to see me, wiggling uncontrollably and happy crying behind the gate in the kitchen. I took a Percocet and melted into my comfortable, soft, marshmallow-y bed. Lucy jumped on top and spooned me. I think I slept for 12 hours.

August 18, 2014 Thyroid Cancer Surgery No. 1

My surgery is today, 8-18-14.


I stopped drinking water at midnight and was a thirsty, mad, nervous, really thirsty woman wandering around my condo collecting Legos, popping them into a giant green container shaped like a giant Lego block. My mom slept over and I was coveting her coffee and drunk off the warm aroma hanging in the air. And I never wanted a sip of Capri Sun more in my life as I watched Jack suck back the tropical flavored goodness. I swished water around my mouth and spit. Crunched on chips of ice chips. 

Take Me Out To The Ball Game

Oh hey, guys. Sorry, I haven’t updated the site in a bit, but I hope you’ve all been following me on Facebook and Twitter. Your kind comments, PMs and tweets mean so much to me and I really appreciate all this support. It reminds me of the Storked! days and how you all cheered me on and on and on … I want to recap whats been going on here at Casa Coppa, but first, #checkyourneck

The Meant To Be Stuff


I woke up on May 6, 2014 with a jump. I put Jack on the school bus and when I returned upstairs, I decided I needed a golden retriever in my life. So I started googling, looking for a North NJ breeder. And $1600 later, an 8-week-old pup was ours. All ours. 

I’m Having Cancer Surgery In 4 Days


Silence. Darkness. A cool breeze rattling the blinds. Eyes open. Thinking about having Thyroid Cancer surgery in 4 days. Alone with my thoughts.

I Don’t Have Good Cancer

This time next week, I will be getting poked and prodded and prepped for surgery. And I think this realization caused me to freak out a lil this am.

My Family Is Concerned I’m Not Reacting Enough

My family is waiting for me to react. React to being diagnosed with Thyroid Cancer.

I have been going about my day-to-day as usual. Lucy makes a sweet puppy growl to let me know she wants to go out—at 5 am. Jack wakes up when he hears me fumbling around for my flip flops and clipping Lucy’s leash on her collar. Lucy greets her best friend, Jack, with an eager, shaking butt and wagging tail. We all go downstairs and outside. The sun is coming up. The sky is orange and pink. Today it was chilly out for August. It felt like Fall.

The Fault In My Stars?

Hello! I hardly ever blog here and see this site more as informational and a place to showcase my work. That said, I wanted to share some news because, well, that’s what over-sharers like me do! And I always aim to share important stories that I believe might help someone else out there going through a similar event.

Yikes, here goes …

Release: Christine Coppa Gets Silly On

Hey guys,

Time to lighten things up! Check out some LOL work from yours truly over at

Thanks for the support XOXO

Release: Christine Coppa Joins

Hello friends! If you didn’t hear the bloggy news, announced it. As of June 1 I’m live on The link to’s Revolving Door after the jump!

Powered by | with Plans. | Thanks to , and