Feeling Hot In Your Absence
(Written by Monica, Thyroidectomy and Lupus Patient)
Dear MT (Missing Thyroid),
It has been six months since you were suddenly taken from me. There was nothing wrong with you except some weird cells that clustered together decided to clamp onto my thyroid. What makes it worse is one path report said it was benign; a second path report from a different lab said it was cancer. So now I’m thinking, did I do the right thing by having you removed? Yes, I know, thyroid diseases of all types run in my family . . . but I thought I was taking care of not only you but everything inside of me so I wouldn’t have to worry about you, or the effects of menopause, or cancer.
Reflecting back to the Good Old Days, I miss not having to remember to take a pill every morning when I wake up, not being able to eat for at least an hour so the pill will reach its fullest potential, not having cereal and milk for breakfast anymore because of the contraindications with calcium. I wonder if the chills/hot flashes that zing through my body at the most inopportune times are a result of you being gone, or because I’m starting to go through menopause? Or why do I have to see the doctor every six weeks to have blood drawn, only to be told your levels are off, we need to change your dosage again and it’s costing me money because you’re gone? And we won’t go into the psychological effects this has had, not only on me but my family.
I am not writing to rant about you. I just want you to know that I miss you, wish you were still connected to me. But I know that when the surgeon opened me up to take you away, it also opened me up to new ways of living and looking at life. No more worries about the past or future, oh, no! The focus now is on every single waking breath that I take and I want to shout out, “I love you, wherever you are,” and to appreciate every moment right here, right now.
So from now on, before I adhere to the recommendations of “professionals” and the advice of others, I will listen to my gut and trust my inner self. And every time I look at the scar on my neck, I know that there are no regrets, only lessons learned.
from MCS (Monica Cheung Stevens)
(Bio) I am a 54-year young mother of a 13-year old son. I retired from a stressful 25-year career as a court reporter after I was diagnosed with Lupus five and a half years ago. I currently am in college, finishing up what I started back in the day. Biggest lesson thus far? We are lifelong learners, whether through an institution such as a university or life itself. My motto is Appreciate the Moment.