Those who have read my blogs know that my family is no stranger to various cancers and health issues. My mom had bilateral mastectomies (separate surgeries), a lung resection, and brain tumor removed- all cancer. She also had chemotherapy and radiation. I’m a medical train wreck, including leukemia (APL/ AML- sub-type M3), diabetes, dysautonomia, multiple pulmonary emboli (all three lobes- acute, subacute, and chronic -all found at the same time), lung scarring, seizures, multiple concussions, yadda, yadda, yadda… My dad has been the rock for both of us (mom died in 2003, after being 17 years free of cancer, but with 10 years of dementia caused by the radiation to her brain; she died from sepsis- not cancer). Dad is the one who takes care of my beloved schnauzer when I’ve been in the hospital. He didn’t own a bottle of Tylenol until a month ago.
Dad had to go to the doctor for an annual look-see before getting his year of thyroid pills refilled. The doc poked and prodded on his neck, as per usual, and felt ‘something’. He decided he wanted to get an ultrasound to figure out what the hard pea-sized ‘thing’ actually was. Dad got scanned (I had to reassure him that it was painless and very quick), and instead they found a large (2 x 1.5 x 1.5 inch) mass coming up from the right side of his thyroid. That’s BIG for the neck area- there are a lot of veins, nerves, arteries, muscle, windpipe, and esophagus related structures in there. Now they wanted a biopsy. Numb it up, take some needles and withdraw some of the tissue. They did that, and dad did well… the results, however, were inconclusive. He was sent to a neck surgeon to figure out the next step.
The neck doc had seen the biopsy and ultrasound results, and felt that it was a cancer, but that it had actually replaced the actual thyroid tissue on the right side; the left side looked OK, at least from the tests. The ENT surgeon (neck doc) decided to get a CT of the area to check for any lymph node involvement. He did feel that it was some sort of cancer, but reassured dad, and myself, that the vast majority of thyroid cancers are fixed with surgery. Dad should be fine. But, in the meantime, they wanted to get some more biopsy material, to see if they could narrow down what was going on in there- but bottom line, the thing had to be removed. It was too squirrelly to leave in there.
Dad is a guy who is 80 years old, and takes a lousy Synthroid pill every day. That’s it. He lives alone, runs around ALL over the place, has a social life that pretty well has him ‘booked’ every day with something, and has really never known anything about chronic or life-altering illness. He has been incredibly blessed. He had a busted appendix in the early 80s- that was bad. But he got well. He had his gallbladder removed, and aside from post-op vomiting, he was good to go in a week. He’s been remarkably healthy. SO, all of this medical stuff that involved HIM was completely foreign. Mom had numerous surgeries and became totally dependent on him during her last 10 years (he was amazing as he cared for her at home). I’m mostly independent, but when I’m in the hospital, he’s been the go-to guy to make sure my dog is OK, and my laundry gets done when I’m holed up. He has been really healthy. This whole ‘being sick’ thing isn’t something he really knew what to do with.
While I know that I’m likely to outlive him, I hate even thinking about him not being here. I have very few people around here that are very present in my life. I’ve got friends- mostly in Texas. The people I know here are mostly interacted with on FaceBook- most I haven’t seen in 30 years. Dad is the person I talk to daily. He’s the one who I know always has my back. I don’t have anyone else who could take care of a schnauzer in heart failure with medications (or who even knows her very well), or who I can call for just about anything. I have some amazing and incredibly dear family scattered about… but dad is just a few minutes away. They are wonderful, yet my physical situation doesn’t make it possible for me to be all that mobile to see them all that much; I certainly feel that I’ve been too much on the ‘fringes’ to just call anyone. Thinking that something could be wrong- and BAD wrong- with him was a lot to take in. I have been going to MD appointments with him during this- partly because I want to be supportive, and partly because I’m an RN (disabled, but still have my license since I earned it, and it is MINE) and understand more of the medical terminology, so when we leave, I know how to answer his questions better.
The day for surgery finally came, and while a friend of his got him to the hospital, I definitely wanted to be there before he went into surgery. I wanted to talk to the anesthesiologist about his severe vomiting after getting Versed for other procedures (the anesthesiologist practically challenged me on that- said it wasn’t possible- must be the gasses used, even though it was the only common denominator the times dad had gotten sick- and a few times he hadn’t had ANY gas….time to back off when the doctor thinks he’s always right- wouldn’t help dad, and the doc wasn’t going to listen). He ended up giving dad Versed, and sure enough, he was sick- though not nearly as badly as other times since they gave him more anti-nausea meds post-op. Evidently, this type of surgery is more likely to cause a problem with nausea and vomiting because of one of the nerves in that area- which dad didn’t need to hear minutes before going into surgery. He was already terrified.
They wheeled him off, and his friend and I began the wait. It took about 3-3.5 hours for the actual surgery, then about 2 hours in recovery. After the surgery, the surgeon (who is wonderful) came out and talked to us. The initial pathology report sounded potentially ominous. He thought it was a low grade lymphoma, and it might require chemotherapy. It wasn’t thyroid cancer. But until the final pathology reports were back in about 5 days, there wouldn’t be any more information than that. No point in telling dad part of the story, so he could worry- we all planned to stick with ‘the final pathology reports aren’t back’ which was true, and kept him from spending days in terror thinking he was up against something terminal. Nobody hears ‘cancer’ and their first thought is that it’s positive. Since I’d been through extensive chemotherapy, my initial reaction was that he’d have that to deal with, even though most chemo isn’t a daily occurrence. Most chemo is anywhere from every few months to a few times a week (until the time when pills are used daily for maintenance for a period of time). I cried. I didn’t want that miserable existence for him…he was always on the go. Having an indeterminate amount of time to deal with feeling lousy was no way to spend the precious years he has to live. He’s no where close to slowing down.
Dad stayed in the hospital for 2 full days after surgery. More on that in another post. He did pretty well from a nursing standpoint, but from the perspective of a daughter, he had one rough day after surgery and was gradually improving, but it was still tough to see my active, never-holding-still dad lying in a bed, or sitting in very institutional furniture. My dad who can graze his way through the day eating anything in sight was doing well to get a diet Sierra Mist down. This is a guy who likes to eat! He was nauseated most of the time (but can’t be the Versed!).
We got to the appointment to hear the final pathology report…more anticipatory tension. We ended up getting some relatively wonderful news- yes, it’s a low grade cancer, and he’ll need scans to check the rest of his body for other masses- which may or may not have to be removed, depending on if they were causing trouble. The mass was well-encapsulated, so not just spreading willy-nilly in his neck. Also great news. The surgeon thought it had been there for 5-10 years, it’s that slow growing. He’ll be seeing an oncologist after the scans to find out what was next (come to find out, he’ll be seeing my oncologist, so I could reassure dad that he’s a good guy). I got some label for what the description of the mass was, but when I looked up the words online, it was more confusing than helpful; will wait to ask the oncologist 🙂
Dad is going to be OK. The doc said that this kind of cancer won’t kill dad. It’s quite probable that he’s going to have another 10 years of quality living. That is a huge answer to prayer. Yes, one day dad will die. But thankfully, it won’t be anytime soon. ❤