An apple a day...

If only it were that simple.
Let's start from the beginning.

On Tuesday, April 7th I had my routine yearly "woman doctor" appointment. Being the paranoid girl that I am, I usually psyche myself out pretty bad.

I told myself this year is going to be different.

I went feeling good about my health. I've been exercising, doing yoga, drinking my Seven + and feeling really good over all. I went over each step of the procedure in my mind while driving there; I'd wait in the lobby, be asked to come back, wait in another lobby, get measured and weighed, wait in a room, change in an impossible paper vest thing, breast exam, hmm mmm exam...

During my exam, my Doctor stopped at my neck. His voice changed. He asked me to swallow several times. My palms got sweaty. My heart began to race. This isn't how it's gone before, this is different.



"It seems your Thyroid is enlarged."



"Uhhhhh... Ok?"



"I'd like to run a blood test and schedule you for a Thyroid ultrasound."



What? What? This has never been done before, I've never needed a blood test, let alone an Ultrasound! Those are for very pregnant people, whom I am not one of.

My eyes get a little teary, but I hide it as best as I can. I'm scared.
The rest of the exam is fine. It goes according to plan, but now I'm the "paranoid Lisa of the past". The one I vowed not to be today. They do a quick and painless bloodtest, thanks to an experienced nurse who knows how to take blood and schedule my Ultrasound for the following Monday.

Here is the worst part.

Waiting. Waiting. Paranoia. Pessimism. Waiting. Paranoia.
It's a vicious cycle.

Through the week my mind would constantly wander and access "what ifs?". What if it's cancer? What if they tell me I have 6 months to live? What can I do in 6 months?! That's NO time at all! 6 months! Not leave my husbands side. Well, we'll have to plan a trip to Disneyland! Stay with my husband every other second, the cat too, scrapbook the last things I can so he'll have something to remember me by. And visit everyone that's not near. Say goodbye. Maybe plan a big party...

These are things that are literally going through my head, these long strands of connected thoughts and pretty soon I'm planning my own funeral. I have to stop and breathe. Remember that "LISA YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW IF ANYTHING IS WRONG!". And then I talk my own self out of that thought.

It's a pretty emotional thing to not know what's going on with your body. Especially when nothing has ever been wrong. I come from one of the healthiest families, relatively speaking. Our genes are pretty great when it comes to not having weird diseases, diabetes, cancers, etc. Because of that, I think i've taken my good health for granted. I had it in my mind that me, or my family would never deal with things like major sicknesses or disease. It would not be our burdan to bare in this life.

Then I read this post. And it made me a little mad (no offense Carly, I was in an intense emotional state of mind). "To Endure to the End", Would I get an end to endure to? This beautiful couple has come to a hard place in the end of their life, but they had a very long and I assume, happy life together. Would I get that? I want more than ANYTHING in this entire huge crazy world to grow OLD with my best beloved. To start a family, to watch them grow. To be old together, sitting on the front porch on our rockers petting the cat. For the neighbor kids to love me, because I'd make hot, fresh chocolate chip cookies for them and be scared of Nate as he'd yell at them to stay off the lawn, they'd call him "old man Cunningham".

I thought long and hard about this kind of stuff. Screw the botox. Screw the plastic surgery. I'm excited to get old, as long as I can do it with my best friend. And this week I thought that had been taken away from me. And then I realized I had it all wrong. I suppose the enduring part is done by the ones who survive. Some ends are shorter than others.
(for the record, I'm not mad anymore).

Monday came. My husband and I walked hand in hand in the hospital. We were there for about 20 minutes total, that included the paperwork, waiting and ultrasound. It was a very short process.

I got a call on Tuesday, from the most lovely woman. It's not cancer. She even said that specifically, like she knew that word was sitting on the edge of my tongue. It's not even a lump, tumor, knodule, whatever you'd like to call it. I have thyroiditis. Yes, go ahead, click on the link. I didn't know what it was either. Inflammation of the thyroid gland. All of that for inflammation of the thyroid gland. Thank goodness, thank you Lord, heaven, glorious angels, Grandpa, whomever is watching down on me, because I can assure you, someone is.

I have an appointment in 4 weeks with an Endochronologist (gland specialist). There they will diagnose my exact prognosis. There are around 6 different types of thyroiditis. I can easily narrow it down to which specific one I think I have.

It's not drug-induced, postpartum, or radiation-induced. That leaves a few options, one that's considered hereditary, one that's caused by bacteria and one that's a virus. Let's all pray it's one of the latter two. Hopefully something that can be cured with a simple antibiotic or something of that nature.

It's not over, but the hurdle in my mind has been cleared. I suppose this still could be something bad. But, hey, my harp teacher is still living and she doesn't have a gall bladder, kidney or thyroid. And she laughs about it. She makes me feel better.

It's amazing what a little scare will do to ones attitude and outlook on life. I recommend it. It will show you what's important, bring things into perspective and make you take a long hard look at yourself and your life.

I'm now seriously considering writing our own bonafide bucket list, we never know when it will be over. Most of us won't even get a 6 month warning.

Lisa