Not cancer. NOT CANCER.
John the surgeon walked into the room the other day and found five of us waiting. The littlest one could barely hold up his head. "I've got good news," he said. It's a good thing to hear first, unless of course he meant, "I've got good news- we're going to be seeing a lot of each other." Or, "I've got good news- more money for me."
But he said, "I've got good news, it's a benign follicular adenoma." And we all, except the youngest three, breathed a sigh of relief. No more surgery, no radioactive iodine, no synthroid, no six weeks of hell.
Thyroid cancer is supposed to be one of the easiest to treat. But you still have to drink (!) radioactive iodine, which makes you radioactive. For 24 hours you have to sit in your hospital room and only the radiation specialists can come near you in their special suits and so you have 24 hours of solitude, except you can't bring your laptop because it will become radioactive and you'll have to throw it away. So that sounds pretty much like misery to me. Then for ten days you can't be with your kids. Including your newborn.
I'm very, VERY glad that I don't have to go through all of that. I'm full of thanks and praise that I will be able to keep nursing Leaf, and that I won't be crying every day that I can't see my kids. I'm so glad that now I can let all of the worry go and just recuperate, wait for my neck to heal, feel better and better as my baby gets older and hopefully starts sleeping a little bit longer at night.
Here's a confession, though: I'm just the teensiest bit disappointed that I won't be able to write about it.
That is so sick. What is wrong with me?
In other news, we've been having freak snowstorms for the last couple of days. I honestly didn't know that it even could snow here. The weather has changed its mind every few minutes. One second it's raining, then hailing, then these big soft snowflakes are drifting down, and suddenly it's hard rain again.
Good weather for Killer Bunnies. The game that makes us all mad at each other.
Also, Leaf has crossed the threshold into Adorable Baby country. He smiles and laughs and lies on his back cooing. More than either of the other kids when they were his age, he seems to really want to talk to me. His little face is so intent, as if he just thought hard enough, he could make some real words come out. He loves the strangest things. A dark sock hanging off the edge of the white metal posts on the bunk-bed gets half an hour of cooing and smiling out of him. We call the lamps his "friends" because he loves to talk to them and listen as they talk back to him. Who are you talking to, Leaf? Are you talking to your friends again?
Life is good. My neck is healing and I can move it again, I don't have cancer and my family is amazing. Our house will be done by the end of the month and we'll have more space. The fact that it's snowing can't change the fact that it's the middle of March and Spring has to come sooner or later. So... why do I feel so depressed?
Not cancer. NOT CANCER.