I have thyroid cancer. Finally something new to blog about.
If you frequent my blog or follow me on Mastodon, you know that early December I was hospitalized following a thyroid storm. A thyroid storm is when your thyroid decides to release all your stored thyroid hormones at once. Your metabolism shoots up. Your heart rate shoots up. Your anxiety goes through the roof. And if you’re unlucky the credits to your life start rolling.
I was lucky enough that it was a mild storm, and after 2 days in the ICU and 2 in a recovery ward I was sent on my way home. The diagnosis was “Graves, probably” which is an autoimmune disease that affects the thyroid. My father has Graves, my half-sister has Hashimoto’s, so needless to say thyroid stuff runs in the family.
As part of my care, an ultrasound was taken of my lower body, upper body, and thyroid. My torso was fine, but they discovered a nodule growing in my thyroid with some worrying qualities. Calcifications. Irregular shape. It was classified as “TIRADS 5”. High chance of malignancy. But considering the size of the nodule, less than a centimeter across, I was told not to worry. We would scan again in a few months and take it from there.
My thyroid recovered, slowly but steadily, and I started feeling better. For the record other than the mental stress of having to deal with moving countries, a newborn, and now cancer, I’m feeling fine.
Late February was a follow-up, which revealed one of the lymph nodes on the other side of my thyroid had grown, and some of the fatty tissue that is supposed to be there, was not. Another worrying sign. And so I was told to schedule for a biopsy.
There are a few ways to take a tissue sample from your thyroid. The most common one is FNAC. Fine needle aspiration. They stab your thyroid with a fine needle, and suck out some tissue. A less common one is a punch biopsy, where they punch a needle into a suspected tumor and take out tissue that way. It’s a larger needle, so more tissue will be taken.
On the day of the biopsy, March 20th, the doctor said he was worried that the FNAC I was scheduled for would yield inconclusive results, instead he wanted to do a punch needle biopsy which would have to be approved by my insurance provider. Privatized healthcare really is something else.
However, after a few minutes of looking at my ultrasound results, he decided to refer me to an oncologist right away. “I think he will want to take a look at this without waiting for your insurance, however the doctor is busy now”. OK, cool. I’ll make an appointment later then. As I was about to step into my car I received a phone call.
“Are you still in the hospital? Please come see the doctor now. 3rd floor, general surgery department”. We’re just consulting right? “Yes, please come now”. The doctor had seen my file and decided he wanted to see for himself what the big deal was.
“Oh, yes that’s cancer. Look”. He showed me on the ultrasound monitor what could’ve just as easily been an abstract painting of l’appelle du vide. “You see this? This is cancer”. He scanned my left lobe. “Oh yes, this is also cancer. Look”. Yes doctor I can see it. But I’ll have to take your word for it that it’s cancer. After the nurse wiped my neck clean from the ultrasound gel we sat down at his desk.
“It’s cancer, but it’s highly treatable. You will probably be fine. I will schedule you for a thyroidectomy in a few weeks. You will have to do a biopsy, but at this point that’s more of a formality. It will help us decide what to cut away other than your thyroid”. OK. So that’s it? “Yes. I am going back to Germany next week. When I’m back. We’ll do the operation. You’ll be fine. Maybe we do one round of radiation to make sure it’s completely gone. You will be radioactive for a day or two so you’ll have to stay in the hospital. Did you know that in The Netherlands you can go home right away?” I did not know. I added it to my list of things I didn’t know this morning but I know now. Two items were on there, one involving cancer, the other about radioactivity.
Since my initial thyroid storm in December, I have had a few months to prepare myself for the possibility that it’s cancer, and so did my wife. Even though it’s highly treatable and the prognosis is excellent, it’s cancer and that sucks and it’s scary. I am scared. My wife is scared. Not all the time. But sometimes. Sometimes my stomach hurts. Did it spread? Or my head hurts. Did it spread? Another lump in my neck. Was this always there? Did it spread?
My insurance is being nothing short of a massive cunt. They want to see more papers. My hospital is busy enough as is. They will send the papers tomorrow. I will get a callback tomorrow. I have very little faith any of these things are happening. Eventually they will happen. But never when they are promised to happen. So now I will have to call my insurer every day, and my hospital every day, to get things to move.
Luckily I am very good at being a massive pain in the ass. This squeaky wheel is going to get all the grease. One thing I learned about the UAE is that they want you to be here, as long as you’re healthy. When you become sick and you don’t work for a big company, they will make your premiums unaffordable in the hopes you find a different insurer who takes you on, but most likely they just want you to leave.
I just renewed my insurance, my visa expires in October, and we’re planning to move back to Japan before then, so I consider that serendipity. My goal is to get surgery here, in the middle of April, fully insured. If this doesn’t work out, my backup plan is to move to the Netherlands for a while, register myself there, get insurance, and get the surgery there. The third option would be to have the surgery in Japan once my visa is approved. Last but not least, would be to pay out of pocket. These options are listed in order of preference. Of course I want the cancer to be removed from my body yesterday, today, or in the worst case tomorrow: but that’s simply not an option. Neither in The Netherlands, the UAE, or Japan. My cancer is early stage, so there is less rush than if my thyroid was riddled with cancer.
I don’t know what the future brings. I will try my hardest to make sure this has the best possible outcome for my family and myself. I’m scared, and it’s OK to be scared. Cancer is pretty scary. Even the ones that have a very favorable prognosis. So, I am allowing myself to be scared.
For me talking about it is therapeutic. Doing it out in the open is therapeutic.
I don’t know why. It’s just how I am. It’s not a phase, mom. Geez.