What started off as a marble-sized nodule is now a baseball-sized mass in my neck. It doesn't protrude (small mercy) (I'm vain) but instead grows inwards. Three of the four main types of thyroid cancer have been ruled out. I am left with either a benign lump that needs to be removed before it damages the structure of my throat, or a very treatable form of thyroid cancer. It could be a lot worse is what I'm saying.
I met my surgeon yesterday. He was like a cross between Sheldon Cooper and Gregory House. I have a soft spot for awkward people. I wasn't put off at all, not even when he referred to me as a "girl" numerous times (it's one of my triggers - being called a girl makes me feel like I'm being chastised or belittled. I stopped being a girl a long time ago, thanks.)
I don't know when my surgery will be. I'll get a call and then two weeks later I'll have my surgery. It could be in a month. It could be in six months (I'm not complaining about my "free" Canadian healthcare but look, there's room for improvement, okay?) I feel like my life is on hold. Do Shawn and I go ahead and book our anniversary trip? Do we plan a big party for Grady's birthday? Does Shawn put the money down for his stupid annual stupid boys' stupid May long weekend trip? (I'm going to go with "no" on that last one.)
I'm feeling very twisty right now. It's good to have a plan. I always do better with a clear course of action. I just don't want this particular course of action. I want my wonky baseball thyroid to be gone, I just don't want to have surgery.