Post-Surgery Two: Electric Boogaloo

Yesterday I had my completion thyroidectomy. Same sort of thing as the first surgery, but this time I woke up worse for wear.  I had a migraine and my neck hurt horribly where I was cut open like a Christmas goose.  But surprisingly, less staining and marking from the iodine and other surgical novelties.  The biggest story this time was that I woke up with a second IV, so I had one on each hand.  Apparently they needed to put one in my right hand to put the other medicines in so that the drugs couldn't interact.  Well, when they took out the one in my right hand, I was immediately nauseous and sweaty, so they waited and let me prep for vomiting, though all that came up were ginger ale burps.  It was a rough few hours and after a restless night's sleep, I'm doing okay.

The biggest change for me now is the fact that I have to take pills three times a day. I now have to switch my thyroid meds and take calcium +Vitamin D pills. Yay.

PAX EAST!!!!

Sorry for the recent quietness from the Scrambled Eggs Ghetto. It's odd how after getting news like "you have cancer", once all of the appointments are set and ready, you get back into a very normal routine again. Life really does go on, you all, but before I go saccharine on you, it hasn't been all sunshine and lollipops. I stuck myself and drew blood three times on straight pins at work, and those hurt like a melonfarmer.

Currently, I am writing this blog on the way to my big vacation: Boston for PAX East.  I made this blog for the sole purpose to explain the road to my recovery from this ailment, and going on a vacation that I planned well in advance of my thyroid flicking me the v's (look it up, Anglophobes!) is part of that journey. I am excited to get to Boston, check in at the hotel, and begin the shenanigans with my friends Alex, Matt, and two new faces.

The reason I like PAX is because it gives me three days to be a complete gaming nerd, and learn how video games, tabletop games, and card games can make me happy.  Also, one of my favorite sketch comedy groups are going to be there, and I can't wait to see Kathleen and Graham again.  I hope the surgery scar doesn't shock them too much.  What a difference a year makes.

In my bags are my Magic and WoW decks, my DSiXL, and rations for the next few days.  I'm gonna be hanging around with geeks and nerds like myself, so anything is possible, but I know one thing is for sure: the swag bags will be full of useless crap that I don't need, but I have to have.

And Now, The News...

It's been a week or so since I last blogged here, but I took the time to relax, recover, and unwind.  But, I'm back.

So I went for my Post-Op appointment, which involved getting the stitches and steristrips out and getting the results.  The whole thing is going to be red for a bit, but I can't wait to shave and be normal looking again.  The two stitches hurt a bit when they came out, but it wasn't too bad.

This is directly from my Diagnostic sheet:

DIAGNOSIS 

Two atypical follicular nodules, one 4 cm and one 2 cm in greatest dimension, surrounded by thick fibrous capsule with multiple areas of transcapular and vascular invasion. Follicular epithelium of nodules show prominent nuclear groves, but no significant clearing or intranuclear inclusions. I favor diagnosis of follicular carcinoma with prominent vascular invasion, See Comment. Both nodules are restricted to thyroid with no evidence of extension into perithyroidal soft tissue on gross inspection and in sections examined. Tumor nodules focally extend to inked edges of the specimen. A very scant sample of non-neoplastic thyroid tissue attached to the capsule of thyroid nodules is morphologically unremarkable in this limited sample.

So in layman's terms, I have Thyroid cancer.

Stage one to be specific.  My SO told me that basically, the lumps were cancerous, but because they were so self contained, they should only need to go in and remove the other half of the thyroid (yay.) and then it's just a little bit of RadioIodine and hormone therapy.  Prognosis is excellent.

So how did I take all of this? Surprisingly, I'm really calm and positive about it all.  I'm sure at some point that the crushing reality will hit me like Chris Brown (too soon?), but I feel great.  Even got a $2 Filet O' Fish and a Shamrock shake after with my mom.  Also, if my brother is reading this, he should know that I now have the Cancer card and I'm not afraid to use it. (I won't abuse it, but come on, I get two of my favorite fast food items AND a way to troll my brother aside from telling him he lost the game? Life really is good today.)

Post-Surgery

Well, here I am.  I survived my surgery.  Here's what happened:

Woke up at 7:30 and got in the shower. I washed myself with the Hibicleans and got dressed.  Drove down to the hospital with mom and dad, and sat in the waiting room for them to call me. When I checked in, they gave me a little GPS tracker so that my parents would know where I was at any time. Ingenious little gadget that was. At about 9:35 they brought me back to get started.  First, I had to change out of my clothes and into the gown. Sitting on the bed with nothing but a pair of slipper socks and a thin gown (that covered everything somewhat well) was odd. Then I was sitting there and the nurses came in to do intake measurements, like blood sugar and so on. So I got the lancet, which stung like a bee sting. "That was always the worst when I donated blood," I said to the nurse.

If only I knew. Tom, my nurse, then started my IV. Yeah, that was worse than the lancet.  But I didn't pass out or lose too much color according to him (well no crap, I was actively avoiding watching!), and he began running the IV fluids through the warmer to get me hydrated.  My next visitor was the nurse in charge of manscaping (yes, that is pretty much what she did).  By this point, my mom and dad had joined me, and I got my chest buzzed from the nipples up. So weird. While she was doing that, one of the anesthetists came in and asked a few questions about my background. In between visits, my stomach grumbled, and I was getting hungry. I was wishing that the surgery would be over soon so I could eat something.

After all that, my surgical oncologist came in to sign my neck and go through the final bits before surgery. Then the anesthesiologist came in with an OR nurse to tell me what we were about to do. I was going to be taken into the OR, moved to the table, and "people would come at me from all sides."  She gave me the muscle relaxer, let me say goodbye to mom and dad, and with the other nurse that was going to be in the room with us, moved me the long way around to my OR.

There were a few other people in the room, and they got me situated on the surgical bed. The only way I can describe the ensuing prep work would be like if I was a Tribute in preparation for my presentation in the Capital. I had one person fixing the table and getting me to move onto the table, one person is setting up my IV bags and attaching my EKG stickers, another is putting warm blankets on me, and yet another is doing the documenting. I hear one of them say, "well that's not good". They then assure me that it's just a computer error thing, and while all my information is correct, the patient number on my wrist isn't the same one on their files (even though the file has all of my info).  In the end, while I was out, they switched wristbands to have the one with the correct numbers on it. (Just a protip for all you nurses and doctors in the ORs: NEVER SAY "THAT'S NOT GOOD" IN FRONT OF YOUR PATIENTS! It only leads to more stress.)  Anyway, I'm laying there with the mask on my face breathing in oxygen... and my eyes open up in a dim room with Oxygen Nubbins* in my nose.

That's right, no countdown, no nothing, I just was out cold. I woke up in the post-op recovery area, and I had some lovely nurses come over to check on me.  They asked how I was feeling, and I said I wanted water. They gave me ice chips and I had some of them. I asked how long I'd been out, and they said I got there about 30 minutes before.  One well known thing about nurses, especially in the OR and post-op areas is that they have wonderful bedside manner.  I could see what was going on and the nurses were really cool.  However, being in that recovery area, I heard about other patients and their surgeries.  One guy nearby was having a really hard time after getting skin grafts done, sounding like he was scratching at them and trying to pull away bandages.  The nurses just kept telling him to breathe and relax, to stop doing that because it wasn't going to help him.  I'm glad I just had the one incision, because I was still a weak little wuss. I asked for some medicine for my headache and they gave me some stuff in my IV.  It helped.

My nurse, Crystal, came over after I'd been awake for 30 minutes and prepped me to move to my post-op recovery room.  She gave me a rundown of what was going on, that I had to be there until I was able to walk, pee, and eat.  She brought me cold ginger ale and ice chips, and then got my parents to the room.  I was glad to see them, because I wanted to know how long it all took and just feel better.

Crystal came back with some Jello for me to eat and asked if I needed painkillers.  I said I would in a little bit, but I felt okay.  She chatted with my parents and I ate.  They kept coming by to check vitals, and my oxygen was constantly around 95 or so.  She later brought me some applesauce and two Percocet for the pain.  I took it and I remember kinda dozing off.  When I woke up next, my mom and dad were watching the TV and I was still in the bed.  Crystal came back and did the Oxygen level was down to an 88.  I told her that I usually slept with my mouth open and not through my nose, so that explained why.  She tried five minutes later when I had done some deep breathing, and I was back to a 96.

Eating, done. Now to move around and get my sore flat butt some shape and my legs some circulation.  I got a lap in and she asked if I wanted to try to use the mens room.  I did, and after about 6 minutes, I finally got the lizard to bleed, so to speak.  I'd hit all the marks and could get discharged.  She gave me my instructions and put in a request for patient transport.  I was the first one on the list.  I got changed and began to wait. And wait. And wait.  Finally another male nurse comes by, tells us he'd check on the transport people and see if they were busy.  They apparently got me first but did 6 other transports before me and got sidetracked.  This male nurse grabbed a chair and started wheeling me down.  Again, another nice guy.  I shook his hand before I got in the car.

By 7pm we were back at home, and I was nesting down in the family room.  Overall, the whole experience was different and something I'm not sure I'd want to do again, but if I had to, I would go back there before the closest ER.

*or whatever Hazel Grace called them in TFiOS.

Here we go...

It's officially the day of my surgery.  I report at 9:30am.  I finally get to answer so many questions that have been plaguing my mind for the past few weeks.

Is it cancer?
How will I deal with anesthesia?
What will my throat feel like?
Am I going to be sore?

Still, one thing is still a definite. I am one hundred percent ANXIOUS AS F***. No amount of "It'll be fine, don't worry" is going to stop that.  But I will have to just deal with the impending events as they come.  To those of you who read my blog, even though it just started, thank you and know that I appreciate all your support.

I'll update you all tonight when I get home.

Post Pre, I mean, Three...

Monday, I had my Pre-Admission Appointment. It was sort of uneventful but some interesting things came out of it.

So we arrive at the hospital for the appointment and we get checked in and given a buzzer like you get at restaurants for long waits.  ("Tim, operating table for one? Tim, operating table for one.")  As we are waiting, we sit and watch Rachel Ray on the TV, talking about fashion trends and party dips.  Having only woken up and gotten dressed, I am hungry and thirsty, and the show isn't helping.  My buzzer goes off and I meet my intake nurse, who brings me and my mom to an intake room.  She asks me when the last time I was weighed was, and I tell her at my last doctor's appointment.  She has me step on that scale with the height stick thing, weighs me, then asks me what my height is.

Yes, that's right. She could have just used the scale to do that, but she'd rather just have me tell her how tall I am. (Looking back, I realize that I could have just made a joke and said I was 7 feet tall and seen if she wrote it down. Opportunity wasted.)  Anyway, she then takes me back to the room where my mom is sitting and takes my temperature, pulse, and blood pressure.  My blood pressure is 143/76 or something, but that's normal I guess. (My mom asks me if I'm feeling okay after the nurse leaves. "Sweetie, the large number on your blood pressure is nearly double the bottom number, that's not good." Gee, mom, maybe it's the fact that I'm in an appointment for my first MAJOR SURGERY, so I'm a little stressed out.)  As the appointment continues, the nurse draws two vials of blood, and asks a bunch of questions about my habits.  She then tells me that I need to stop eating at midnight (GIZMO?) and that I can have one glass of water before I come in to take my meds.  I also have to wear loose clothing, and that morning I have to wash my entire body with Hibaclens, which I can buy at their pharmacy down the hall (for a whole dollar-fifty. Man, I'm gonna need to call my off-shore accounts to pull in that kind of money.)

The anesthesiologist who comes to see me asks me the same questions the nurse did, and explain to me the whole process.  I suppose I shouldn't be upset at all by the fact that I'm getting asked the same questions, and will be getting the same questions.  Too bad the stress is going to make me a little on edge (the sooner they give me the relaxant in my IV, the better.)  Then they take me to the outer OR and do a final check, then in we go, I get a mask of anesthesia and POOF I'm out.

Can I just say, the way they described this all to me, even though I'm going to be in the hospital for only a few hours, but it sounds like I'm gonna be bedridden for a day or two there? I'm not sure how "ambulatory" this is going to be.

I suppose that this appointment was meant for them to give me reassurance and to give them vital info on me so they can plan properly.  Unfortunately, I'm still freaking out quite a bit for this whole thing to go down, that I just need to clear my head. I want this done and over with so I can calm the frig down.

Post Two: The Prequel

So why am I making this blog?  Here's the story:

Back in November, I went in for a normal doctor's checkup.  We discussed different things, like the recent chest cold going away and my overall weight story.  Then she asked me to hop up onto the bench to start doing all the normal "all up ins" palpitations and stethoscope work.  She then says to me a phrase that you don't like to hear a doctor say.

"Have you ever noticed this lump here?"

Really, those words are never good to hear, because they just sound ominous.  That and "I need the nurse to take a picture of this for our wall," the latter being because no one wants to feel like a freakshow.  Well, unless they give you a share of whatever the prize is for "Oddest Growth of The Month"...

Anyway, the lump she was talking about was on my neck, just to the left of my larynx. (My left that is.)  "I'm going to send you for an ultrasound on your thyroid, and you need to get more blood drawn for us to check (Yay, more needles.) It feels harder than I think it should (#TWSS)."  So after my appointment finishes, I go for the blood work (nothing abnormal) and schedule the ultrasound.  A few weeks later, I go in to see the gender of my neck baby size and composition of the lump.  Later that week, my doctor has me make an appointment to see a surgical oncologist for a fine needle aspiration, quoting the reason as "a large mass or nodule on the left thyroid."

Getting blood work done is one thing, but needles in the neck is a whole new level of "HOLYMOTHEROFGODWHATTHEHECKISTHAT?!?!?" anxiety that you don't realize you have until you go through it.  Let me describe this so you can follow me: they have me lie back with a pillow under my shoulders, so I'm effectively looking backwards at the wall behind me.  They then stick me a few times with the anesthetic and wait for a minute.  Next, they take the needle from the anesthesia and poke at my neck asking "Can you feel that?" Of course, I can (IT'S A FREAKING NEEDLE ON MY NECK) so they stick me one more time and wait another minute.  Then they start doing the FNA, which involves them sticking a longer needle into the lump (which you can totally feel, because they can only numb the entry point of the needle and not the lump itself) and pull, not one, but SEVEN samples from my neck.

Procedure over, the Doctor explains to me that this testing will tell us more about what this lump is.  But, because of the fact that guys tend not to have this sort of thing, and that the lump is 3 cm in size, I would probably have to have surgery to be safe.

A week or two later, I went in to a follow-up and got the results: inconclusive, aside from the fact that it is a tumor of some form.  There is a 25% chance of malignancy, but I'll need to have the left half of my thyroid removed to see what the conclusive answer is.  So surgery it is.