New Years Day, 2021 began with a bang. Although I left my cancerous thyroid in 2020, the real recovery and cancer journey had just begun.

The awful blood bag that was pinned to my chest was removed the next morning after my thyroidectomy. I was instructed on which medicine and vitamins to take and what symptoms to be on the lookout for.

I kept asking, so it was cancer?

Statistically, odds told me it shouldn’t actually be cancer. Even my surgeon, after proudly stating that 99% of the time he called it correctly from looking at the ultrasound, had told me that my tumor was most likely benign.

Because of this, he had avoided discussing what follow up would look like if it was cancer.

So I was left in the dark. I didn’t know what was happening next, but he told me just to rest and feel better and that he’d see me in a week to take the stitches out.

Day three, I took my bandage off to see my scar for the first time.

It was a mosaic of purple, black, and bright pink bruising with my scar looking like a slightly crooked smiley face. You could see where they had to cut more once they realized that it was cancer and they had to remove it all.

Although it was better than I thought it would be, it was still disturbing to look at. And I wanted no one to see it, not even my family.

I laid there on the couch, watching tv but not really watching. Feeling apathetic towards the world for once in my life. Only feeling pain and discomfort while watching the time tick by, desperate for it to be nighttime already, though I could hardly sleep even then from the neck discomfort.

I was unable to turn my head without the stitches pinching my neck. The way they were positioned made it to where I was stuck looking down, leaving my head in a constant, depressed, bow. It hurt to talk, it hurt to laugh, it hurt to cry, it hurt to eat, it hurt to sneeze, it hurt to yawn, and it really, really hurt to swallow.

My voice coming back was an incredible relief. Due to having a massive tube down my throat, they were able to avoid damaging my vocal chords during surgery. That tube, however, left an awful sore throat that persisted for a week.

The pain medication didn’t work. Nothing seemed to soothe my throat. Only popsicles and hot chocolate provided the slightest flash of relief. I wanted to put my family at ease by acting okay, but I was in the most irritable mood. I hated my physical limitations, that I had to walk slowly to the bathroom and how propping myself up took so much effort.

I started my new thyroid medication, which I would be taking now every morning for the rest of my life. It was hard to know what symptoms were normal recovery from a big surgery and what was from this new hormone replacing, body regulating pill.

I was exhausted. My joints hurt. Walking halfway around the block was difficult. My face felt clammy and drained. My body experienced hot flashes constantly. I could never feel a comfortable temperature. The warm bath water felt burning and then I’d be shaking uncontrollably the second I got out. My vision was altered so I couldn’t see close up. My brain was so foggy, words came to me slow, and I was having a hard time remembering things. I couldn’t sleep. I went to the store and after being in there for ten minutes, I felt so faint and dizzy I had to leave immediately.

I walked into my surgeon’s office a week later to have my stitches removed. I explained my symptoms and that I was simply not feeling well, but he was distracted and ended up leaving the room and having his nurse remove the stitches without him. It was only when he came back and I was near tears that he agreed my medication dose might be off and put in the order for me to get bloodwork done.

I sat there a total of ten minutes before I was shooed out of the room.

I had so many questions. What was the plan? What do I do now?

The weight of cancer hung over me and demanded to be addressed.

The surgeon’s role in this, he said, was over. Now it was all up to the endocrinologist to treat me.

I left in tears and went straight to a different doctors office to get more needles poked in my veins.

I called my endocrinologist as soon as I got in the car to set up an appointment for the next day to discuss my cancer plan.