CANCEROUS DANGLING PARTICIPLES!

New news!

So here's the skinny.

My cancerous journey is coming to a close.  Soon.

I had surgery June 6th and it went incredibly well.  If anyone happens to find themselves in my shoes in Los Angeles, GO TO DR. RAFFI MESROBIAN.  He is by far the nicest surgeon out there.  Not that I know many surgeons... Or actually, any other surgeons... But this fella and his entire team are filled with integrity, compassion, knowledge and treat their patients like humans. When you're gonna get sliced open, you sure as hell want someone who not only knows what they're doing, but also who's super cool.  This guy fits the bill.

There was an amazing Nurse in the O.R. who came up to me and held my hand and said "I understand exactly how you feel."  I asked her what she meant.  She then told me she was a two time cancer survivor and she knows how crazy it can feel to be going into surgery.  I was filled with massive awe and I said something like this to her:  "WOW.... Look at you!  You're still here.  We're still here.  It's so important we keep spreading light..."   

And that is the last memory I have before my own lights went out.  Crazy, right?  I feel like I have been incredibly bent on trying to keep this cancer hell a Heaven and I am so hell bent on trying to spread light in the dark that I tell this wonderful girl that very thing before zonking.  I might be looney tunes, I don't know.  haha

So, THE PAST got cut outta me and so did 9 of my lymph nodes that hung in the same neighborhood as my thyroid.  Apparently, right as I was barely coming out of "being under," I sat straight up in bed and yanked out all my respirator tubes myself. 

I don't recommend this, as I have barely had a voice since the surgery due to the fact I scraped the living hell out of my insides by my ambitious maneuver.  (I'm now at almost full vocal capacity again, but by the end of the day, I sound a little raspy) I got properly scolded by the amazing nurse who showed me the 8-ish inch tube that I had yanked outta my esophagus.  Oops!

Peaches the Bear was lent to me by one of my
10 year old students who just rocked out
malignant melanoma. 

My Mama, hubby and bestie all stayed at the hospital the whole day I had the surgery.  They were there when I went under, they were there when I was wheeled into recovery.  I couldn't imagine having gone through that day without all three of them there, I am the luckiest chick on earth.


Started the thyroid pills immediately.  I totally feel a difference in my energy now.  SO MUCH BETTER.  It changes things when you're no longer operating at half-battery.

I have felt very HELL YEAH I DID IT since my surgery.

Today, I discovered that out of the 9 lymph nodes my surgeon pulled outta me, 1 had cancer in it.  OK.  Then, I discovered that this means I absolutely need to take the next step and swallow the dreaded Radioactive Iodine.  Blech.

I won't lie.  I was SUPER disappointed when I heard the news.  Everything in me was like:  OH PLEASE.  I am done!  I am fine!

After 20 minutes of despair and 'harumph-ness,' I told my Mama that it's ALLLLLLLLL good.  I get to keep rising above and keep kickin' some more ass.  Because HERE we are.  It brings it all back to the present moment.  The worst is over.  THE PAST is in the trash somewhere, or maybe a doctor's version of a garbage disposal and it's friggin' gone.

Whenever we let go of THE PAST, there's always gonna be a little residual that tries to linger.  Little reminders of a previous hell, little dangling participles that try to bring us down, little reminders that challenge our beliefs, little reminders that we made it through...
 
So no big!  This radioactive iodine hoo hah is just the final dangling participle in this cancerous thyroid journey.  It's job is to go through my whole body and zap the last little cancer dudes that may or may not be cruising around.  So be it.  This is a customary part of this type of cancer, and it's OK.

What do I have to say for parting words?

PEACE OUT, CANCER!!!

Peace

Michelle Tomlinson
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