So I had the scary biopsy and I waited anxiously for the results and then I got the results - good results! - and everything was fine and dandy.
Except that it wasn't exactly fine and dandy. I just didn't know any better.
I met with the endocrinologist last week. I was expecting her to tell me we'd monitor my wonky thyroid. I was not expecting her to tell me I needed to have every single test (including the biopsy!) repeated.
It's kind of a long (boring) story but basically what it boils down to is this: I thought the good biopsy results meant no cancer but what they really mean is I don't have the most common type of cancer. The endocrinologist is concerned about a few things so she wants to rule out the second-most and third-most common types of thyroid cancer before giving me the all-clear. (And if I do get the all-clear for the cancers, we still have to figure out what's going on and what the treatment plan will be.)
I don't mean to sound grim. She was very blunt and forthcoming (which I appreciate! I do!) but in a reassuring way. Like, she scared the crap out of me but at least she didn't tell me that thyroid cancer is "the cancer to have." (Actual thing that was said to me during the last round of testing. Actually, sir, NO cancer is the cancer to have. Fuck you very much.)
I'm getting a bit cancery here, I know. It's entirely possible that my wonky thyroid is not cancerous. There is a very good chance that it is not cancerous. I just ... I go there. When something scary or slightly bad happens I go to the worst possible place. I think it's a coping mechanism. If I'm expecting the absolute worst I won't be surprised when it happens.
I didn't say it was a healthy coping mechanism. Probably it's healthier than my other coping mechanism of eating all the things. Get ready for a lot of Instagrammed shots of cupcakes in the coming weeks is what I'm saying.