How I Discovered I Had Thyroid Cancer

Sometime in 2005 or 2006, I noticed a small bump in the middle of the front of my neck. It was kind of like a small Adam’s apple, except that I wasn’t a dude, so it couldn’t have been an Adam’s apple. It went up and down when I swallowed, it didn’t hurt at all, and I didn’t think anything of it. I assumed it had always been there. I was wrong.

I love making people laugh, and I’ll try any material—especially self-deprecating stunts—to get a giggle. (It’s not very “pretty,” but I am quite well-known for making a pig nose at the dinner table just to see if I can make somebody or other burst out laughing.) About the bump on my neck, I remember joking to my two sisters--one older, one younger—that I had an Adam’s apple and that I was turning into a dude. I don’t really remember if it made them laugh, but I certainly thought it was funny. I still do.

In November of 2007, I went to see an otolaryngologist (an ENT—ear, nose, throat—doctor) for some long-annoying sinus problems that I was finally so sick of that I asked my primary care physician for a referral to a specialist, hoping to get to the bottom of it. I was sitting on the examination table when the ENT came into the room, and before he asked me anything about my sinus problems, he examined my throat and neck area. He felt the bump on my neck and asked me a bunch of questions about it—had it always been there (I told him I thought so), did it hurt, had I noticed it getting bigger or changing in consistency, etc. He said he thought it might be a “thyroglossal duct cyst” and recommended having an ultrasound to get a better look.

The doctor and I also discussed my sinus problems, and he ordered a sinus CT. My problems were (and still are) primarily on the left side of my face near my cheekbone (my left maxillary sinus, I’ve come to learn). Leaving his office with an order for a sinus CT and an order for a neck ultrasound, which I had not been expecting, I scheduled the appointment for the neck ultrasound as soon as I could get in and put the sinus CT on the back burner.

Of course, when I got home that day, I Googled “thyroglossal duct cyst” and read for a couple hours. I wasn’t worried; I just wanted to know what the possibilities were. I have this bad habit (or is it a good habit? I don’t know) of trying to figure out all possible scenarios so that whatever happens, I will not be surprised or taken aback by the sequence of events as it unfolds. I like to try to picture all the different outcomes of any set of circumstances; this is, of course, impossible, and a person could drive themselves batty trying to prepare for anything that might happen. But the habit did lend itself to a cute self-made label—“mental flowchartist”—which I was pretty proud of for a while and threw into conversations whenever I could. I’m such a show-off.

I don’t even remember what I read about thyroglossal duct cysts, although I just noticed that I still have some of the pages I read that night bookmarked on my Internet toolbar. The list of “thyroglossal duct cyst” bookmarks in my browser toolbar falls right in between bookmarks for “Crayon stains on clothing” and “Jump-o-Rama.” Which is nice. This somehow seems relevant and possibly proves that I was carrying on a very normal life at the time. I was trying to do three things at the time: remove pesky Crayon stains from my son Jack’s clothing, research what was possibly wrong with my neck, and find a (reasonably priced but not so cheap it’s got dried barf on it) bounce house for Jack’s 7th birthday party, which was coming up on January 14, 2008. This is the life of a stay-at-home mom, a life I love.

Whatever I read about thyroglossal duct cysts, I remember reporting for my neck ultrasound on a Thursday morning without any worries. The technician did her thing, didn’t say much of anything during the ultrasound, and told me the radiologist would look at the images and send a report to my doctor in a few days. This is a statement I’ve heard many times since then.

I got a message on my answering machine the next day (on a Friday afternoon) from the manager of the department where I’d had the ultrasound done, and she said not to worry but that they needed some more pictures of my neck and could I come back in? She also said that this time the radiologist himself would be present for the ultrasound and possibly even perform part of the exam to make sure he got a clear picture of my neck. When I got this message, I started to worry. I knew something was up.

I made another appointment, and this time I was tense as the radiologist did the scan. He kept saying things like “You have beautiful anatomy” (presumably to be reasssuring), but I also keenly heard the other things he and the head of the ultrasond department were saying to each other…words like “calcification” and phrases like “Is that it?” and “Is that one on the isthmus?” It was during this ultrasound that I knew with certainty that I had cancer or some other serious condition. Two or three times the radiologist said, “I’m sorry this is taking so long. It’s just that you have such beautiful anatomy,” and if I hadn’t been nervous about what he was seeing in my neck, I would have thought that was a creepy thing to say. I told him, “I don’t need to be anywhere; take as long as you need to.” As I turned my head to the far left so he could position the wand to get a closer view of the right side of my neck, the first hot tear of this kind rolled over the top of my cheekbone into my left ear.

I had an appointment with the ENT to discuss the results a few days later. I asked my husband to come with me to this appointment, because I had a feeling it would be a biggie.

biopsy
inconclusive
surgery
Diagnosis
Cancer
RAI
Life after all that…