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. There were toys everywhere. Lucy was relentlessly stealing shoes from my closet. Jack was whining about needing batteries for his new remote control car and telling me Poppy loves him more than I do. Mounds of clean, folded clothes atop the dyer annoyed me. A gob of sparkle toothpaste in the sink and water splashed on the vanity mirror felt tragic. Lucy begging for Jack’s eggs and waffles made me scream in my head.

My biggest issue with this BS Cancer is that I feel fine. I was with a friend last night and I was explaining to him that nothing hurts me. I don’t feel or look sick. But the surgery is going to hurt me. And give me a scar. And lay me up. And if I need that stupid radiation pill my kid and puppy have to vacate the home and I get to feel flu-ish and weak and filled up with poison while it kills all the bad and normal cells in my body.

I’m so beat up today. Fuck it, I wore jeans and a tee to work. I have on Chapstick and mascara. I got to the office early and reclined the seat in my Jeep, staring at sunspots on trees, weaved and tangled and all meshed with green, lush leaves. A crisp breeze sent a spray of goosebumps up my arm. I’m not dreaming.

I’m sick of people telling me I have good Cancer. My good Cancer comes with a 4+ centimeter tumor that is pressing on my vocal cords. And there’s this nerve, you see, that controls your voice and if anything happens to that nerve, I could never speak again. Like ever. And that worst case scenario is racing through my head. The good Cancer means I have to take meds forever. Meds that will take months to regulate my body—and I’m vain. I don’t want to gain weight.

I know I don’t need a bone marrow transplant or chemo or to have my jaw removed like my dad. But, my journey matters to me and is no less important or scary than any other Cancer story out there. I’m raising a kid by myself. A little boy who depends on me. This is such BS.

I wish it was 8:30 PM and I was listening to music with Jemma and drinking something strong.

Over and out. -C

 

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5 Responses to “I Don’t Have Good Cancer”

  1. Sshafer says:

    It is BS, I agree with you! From one solo parent to another….keep your head up, you are a badass!!
    Suzanne

  2. etrets says:

    <3 <3 <3 Sending all love to you. <3 <3 <3 You absolutely have the right to grieve for this process.

  3. ksenkarg says:

    Sending you prayers and positive thoughts! I never know you but I have been following your blogs and articles since you were pregnant and blogged for glamour.com and it feels like I know you so well. You are such a wonderful person and you will PREVAIL through this and in a few years you will be healthy, happy and this will seem just as a distant memory I hope. Trust me thousands of your readers think of you and pray for you and JD and. Good luck and try to stay positive even though that definetely seems unreal at the moment. Get well!!
    Ksenia

  4. caytejames says:

    It’s not so much that thyroid cancer is a “good” cancer, it’s that (to paraphrase Winston Churchill) it’s less awful than pretty much any and every kind of cancer. It grows slowly, responds well to treatment and the VAST majority of folks that get it die of something unrelated, 40-50 years later.

    My dad had it in the early ’80s — he’s fine, totally fine. Healthy as a horse, now in his 70s! A plastic surgeon did the thyroid removal and within a couple of months you couldn’t even see the scar. Because there was no scar.

    Also, Synthroid doesn’t make you gain weight — hypothyroidism does. The doctor titrates up a bit and your metabolism goes back to normal.

    I hope your surgery goes well! That you recover fast too!

    • chriscop says:

      Grows slowly and undetected until there’s a tumor covering the entire right side of your gland. This is not a good cancer and no less scary for me or anyone with it. Thank you for your kind thoughts! I hope to recover fast too … or maybe a lil slow. I could use a break, lol. And a bell to command frozen yogurt and green juice and all the things!

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