Before I begin, let me just caveat this post by saying:
1. If you are squeamish, you may want to skip
2. There is mention of some "lady issues"
3. This will be a longin'
4. I am not dying or anything close to dying, so please no having a seizure, Anna
Ahem . . . This story begins a few months back. We were preparing for baby/adoption #3 (oh sweet Ruby, you will never know how you have saved me). I thought to myself, "Self, it's about time you had your 'annual' visit to the girlie doctor." So I decided to make an appointment, get it over with, and get on with life. Just prior to this visit I noticed two things: One, I was having a hard time swallowing. Like I forgot how to swallow. Two, there was a funky little something growing on my back that was as hideous as it was bothersome and it had to go. My visit was pretty much as suspected, but after having a laprotomy three years ago, what's a little scraping and pinching, eh? I mentioned to the doctor that she might want to have a looksee at my thyroid and the little friend on my back for good measure. Well, the "friend" would have to be seen by a dermatologist and there was definitely a little something something going on with my thyroid for which blood tests and an ultrasound were in order. Side note: I love the irony of having now had an ultrasound for pretty much everything except for the one reason most women have one (for a baby). Blood tests were A-OK, but the ultrasound showed a growth 2cm X 3cm on my left thyroid. Fantastic. So it was off to the ENT whilst the medical bills kept a piling up. And I LOVE how every appointment at the ENT meant an hour in the waiting room, fifteen minutes in the actual room, 3 minutes of the doctor's time and a $300 bill for him poking around at my neck. I should have been an ENT. Meanwhile, I tried to make an appointment at the dermatologist for my ever-growing back friend only to find out every derm (that's short for dermatologist) in town was booked out 3 weeks or more. Well, I wasn't waiting 3 weeks or more. I armed Chad with a sterilized pair of nail clippers and had him lob that thing off. Can I just say, "Yowch!" Chad joked that he felt like one of those barbers from the turn of the century when towns didn't have doctors and the barber would pull out your teeth, give you stitches, etc. But what if it was cancer, you ask? Never fear. I carefully saved it in a small mason jar and it is currently swimming in my master bath linen closet in a pool of rubbing alcohol to preserve it (I know it's gross, but I saved myself a good $600 doing it barber shop style). I'm pleased to report, nothing out of the ordinary has grown in its place so it's safe to say, I do not have melanoma. Cancer suspect #1, gone. Ruby is born and I adjust to life with three littlen's at home. Next, the ENT scheduled me for a biopsy for which I was absolutely afraid. My dad had the same thing done ten years ago and it all sounded pretty archaic to me. They had to strap him down to the table and jabbed a needle down his neck 20+ times to extract tissue to test for cancer. No meds, no anesthetic, just some straps and some needle jabbing. I did not sleep the night before. They take me to the basement of the hospital (already off to a good start) where the glow and the hum of the fluorescent light bulbs is ever present. I can just picture row after row of men and women with thyroid issues strapped to tables with needles being jabbed into them. But I don't hear screaming only humming. Maybe that's why we're in the basement. They hand me a sheet that says its my "passport" to services. My passport, really?! It's a vacation. It's fun! I'm led to a gurney and given yet another ultrasound. I play along this time and ask, "Is it a boy tumor or a girl?" Nobody laughs, but I still think I'm funny. I don't get strapped down, but I do get a nice shot to numb my outer neck and another to numb my innards. It feels weird. I don't like being out of control of my body. And then the needle jabbing commences. It is even more weird. Back and forth they jab that thing--like 15 times--before it is removed and another needle takes its place. They do this 5 times and by the fourth time the numbness is starting wear off. Super Icky. Then they take my neck meat upstairs and wait for someone to say whether or not they need more neck meat. I pray they don't need more because I can pretty much feel everything now. We chew the fat with the doctor who is a nice man from the same small town my parents now live in in North Carolina. The call comes, they don't need more and I go home. I have an angry lump on my neck that stays for a week. Ruby's birth mother comes for a visit and I'm glad my hair is long and hides my neck. We wait for the results. Undetermined. But I love how the pathologist still charged me $800. Somewhere in the midst of all this I get a call from my girlie doctor. Hey, remember that pap smear? It's abnormal. And if one biopsy wasn't enough for my week, try two. I go, they scrape, they pinch, they punch (yes, it feels like someone punching your insides) and then they go WAAAAAAAY inside and claw good and hard and you bleed (for a week). And I walked out of there with a pad the size of a diaper (so wonderful for my ego) and waddling like a duck. My favorite part of that biopsy was that the doctor had to stop mid-way through to run across the street to deliver a baby (a boy, in case you were wondering), so I was left with a really lame copy of National Geographic whilst I was sitting on the table, in the stirrups, with nothing to cover my lower half but a nice, thin, white sheet. The results were sketchy. There's something chunky (seriously, I think they used that word) going on, but for now, it's not cancer. Cancer suspect #2, gone. OK, where am I now? This is so long, I know. Ah yes, time for surgery. My mom flies in and into surgery I go. The plan is to remove half the thyroid (the half with the lump) and if it tests for cancer there while I'm good and out of it, take out the whole darn thing. I head in for surgery and I'm soooo relaxed. Probably because it's late afternoon and I haven't eaten for a day. They take my blood pressure and it's low (90 over 50). I'm totally relaxed. They start the IV which I still maintain was the WORST part of surgery pre and post (she used the term "dig around"), and then gave me some drug to relax me. Hello, I'm already relaxed. I started giggling. I couldn't stop. I giggled for a good minute and then immediately started to cry and I don't remember anything else until I woke up with morphine man (that's what I like to call my recovery room nurse). Morphine man did not care about me. Morphine man got up and went pee while I was begging for ice chips. Morphine man practically forced an orange popsicle down my throat which my body rejected (not fun after having your throat hacked at). Morphine man kept giving me surges of morphine that I did not want. My neck still hurt, but the morphine made me loopy and unable to concentrate. I wanted to tell him to stop with the morphine already, but I was too drugged to do anything but grunt for ice chips. Then I proceeded to my hospital room where I sadly had to buzz the nurse every hour to unplug me so I could go pee. By 2am I was begging them to remove the IV as I was obviously getting enough fluids. At 4am, the nurse gave me the frowny face after taking my blood pressure--a nice 70 over 40--and I was a feared I might have to stay another day hooked to those dang leg anti-blood clotting things that go off every 5 seconds and do not feel like a leg massage. Stop being so dang relaxed! I concocted a plan that involved eating bacon and by 8am, blood pressure was up and I was on the fast track to going home. I beat everyone home that had had surgery before me (but I'm not competitive or anything) and it took about a week to feel like the anesthesia was finally out of my system. The lump went to pathology. Undetermined. It went to some research institution where many fine doctors had a look. It was suppose to take a week. It took two and a half. The results came back today. Cancer suspect #3, I am not so lucky. So Saturday, I get to go back into surgery and the whole kitten kaboodle will be coming out. Am I afraid? Of cancer? No. If I'm going to have cancer, I'll take this one. They take the thing out, you swallow a radiation pill, badabing, badaboom, it's over. Am I afraid of the IV? Yes! Please no digging around. That really hurt . . . for weeks. And my saving grace in all of this is Ruby. When things were getting rough, I would look at her and know right here, right now Heavenly Father is mindful of me. I am not alone. There is a reason this is happening now and He sent her to me to because He knew I could and would take care of her the way He wants her to be raised. There was no coincidence in the timing of her birth. She came to save me from despair. She came to remind me. Thank you Ruby. Thank you Kaylee.
1. If you are squeamish, you may want to skip
2. There is mention of some "lady issues"
3. This will be a longin'
4. I am not dying or anything close to dying, so please no having a seizure, Anna
Ahem . . . This story begins a few months back. We were preparing for baby/adoption #3 (oh sweet Ruby, you will never know how you have saved me). I thought to myself, "Self, it's about time you had your 'annual' visit to the girlie doctor." So I decided to make an appointment, get it over with, and get on with life. Just prior to this visit I noticed two things: One, I was having a hard time swallowing. Like I forgot how to swallow. Two, there was a funky little something growing on my back that was as hideous as it was bothersome and it had to go. My visit was pretty much as suspected, but after having a laprotomy three years ago, what's a little scraping and pinching, eh? I mentioned to the doctor that she might want to have a looksee at my thyroid and the little friend on my back for good measure. Well, the "friend" would have to be seen by a dermatologist and there was definitely a little something something going on with my thyroid for which blood tests and an ultrasound were in order. Side note: I love the irony of having now had an ultrasound for pretty much everything except for the one reason most women have one (for a baby). Blood tests were A-OK, but the ultrasound showed a growth 2cm X 3cm on my left thyroid. Fantastic. So it was off to the ENT whilst the medical bills kept a piling up. And I LOVE how every appointment at the ENT meant an hour in the waiting room, fifteen minutes in the actual room, 3 minutes of the doctor's time and a $300 bill for him poking around at my neck. I should have been an ENT. Meanwhile, I tried to make an appointment at the dermatologist for my ever-growing back friend only to find out every derm (that's short for dermatologist) in town was booked out 3 weeks or more. Well, I wasn't waiting 3 weeks or more. I armed Chad with a sterilized pair of nail clippers and had him lob that thing off. Can I just say, "Yowch!" Chad joked that he felt like one of those barbers from the turn of the century when towns didn't have doctors and the barber would pull out your teeth, give you stitches, etc. But what if it was cancer, you ask? Never fear. I carefully saved it in a small mason jar and it is currently swimming in my master bath linen closet in a pool of rubbing alcohol to preserve it (I know it's gross, but I saved myself a good $600 doing it barber shop style). I'm pleased to report, nothing out of the ordinary has grown in its place so it's safe to say, I do not have melanoma. Cancer suspect #1, gone. Ruby is born and I adjust to life with three littlen's at home. Next, the ENT scheduled me for a biopsy for which I was absolutely afraid. My dad had the same thing done ten years ago and it all sounded pretty archaic to me. They had to strap him down to the table and jabbed a needle down his neck 20+ times to extract tissue to test for cancer. No meds, no anesthetic, just some straps and some needle jabbing. I did not sleep the night before. They take me to the basement of the hospital (already off to a good start) where the glow and the hum of the fluorescent light bulbs is ever present. I can just picture row after row of men and women with thyroid issues strapped to tables with needles being jabbed into them. But I don't hear screaming only humming. Maybe that's why we're in the basement. They hand me a sheet that says its my "passport" to services. My passport, really?! It's a vacation. It's fun! I'm led to a gurney and given yet another ultrasound. I play along this time and ask, "Is it a boy tumor or a girl?" Nobody laughs, but I still think I'm funny. I don't get strapped down, but I do get a nice shot to numb my outer neck and another to numb my innards. It feels weird. I don't like being out of control of my body. And then the needle jabbing commences. It is even more weird. Back and forth they jab that thing--like 15 times--before it is removed and another needle takes its place. They do this 5 times and by the fourth time the numbness is starting wear off. Super Icky. Then they take my neck meat upstairs and wait for someone to say whether or not they need more neck meat. I pray they don't need more because I can pretty much feel everything now. We chew the fat with the doctor who is a nice man from the same small town my parents now live in in North Carolina. The call comes, they don't need more and I go home. I have an angry lump on my neck that stays for a week. Ruby's birth mother comes for a visit and I'm glad my hair is long and hides my neck. We wait for the results. Undetermined. But I love how the pathologist still charged me $800. Somewhere in the midst of all this I get a call from my girlie doctor. Hey, remember that pap smear? It's abnormal. And if one biopsy wasn't enough for my week, try two. I go, they scrape, they pinch, they punch (yes, it feels like someone punching your insides) and then they go WAAAAAAAY inside and claw good and hard and you bleed (for a week). And I walked out of there with a pad the size of a diaper (so wonderful for my ego) and waddling like a duck. My favorite part of that biopsy was that the doctor had to stop mid-way through to run across the street to deliver a baby (a boy, in case you were wondering), so I was left with a really lame copy of National Geographic whilst I was sitting on the table, in the stirrups, with nothing to cover my lower half but a nice, thin, white sheet. The results were sketchy. There's something chunky (seriously, I think they used that word) going on, but for now, it's not cancer. Cancer suspect #2, gone. OK, where am I now? This is so long, I know. Ah yes, time for surgery. My mom flies in and into surgery I go. The plan is to remove half the thyroid (the half with the lump) and if it tests for cancer there while I'm good and out of it, take out the whole darn thing. I head in for surgery and I'm soooo relaxed. Probably because it's late afternoon and I haven't eaten for a day. They take my blood pressure and it's low (90 over 50). I'm totally relaxed. They start the IV which I still maintain was the WORST part of surgery pre and post (she used the term "dig around"), and then gave me some drug to relax me. Hello, I'm already relaxed. I started giggling. I couldn't stop. I giggled for a good minute and then immediately started to cry and I don't remember anything else until I woke up with morphine man (that's what I like to call my recovery room nurse). Morphine man did not care about me. Morphine man got up and went pee while I was begging for ice chips. Morphine man practically forced an orange popsicle down my throat which my body rejected (not fun after having your throat hacked at). Morphine man kept giving me surges of morphine that I did not want. My neck still hurt, but the morphine made me loopy and unable to concentrate. I wanted to tell him to stop with the morphine already, but I was too drugged to do anything but grunt for ice chips. Then I proceeded to my hospital room where I sadly had to buzz the nurse every hour to unplug me so I could go pee. By 2am I was begging them to remove the IV as I was obviously getting enough fluids. At 4am, the nurse gave me the frowny face after taking my blood pressure--a nice 70 over 40--and I was a feared I might have to stay another day hooked to those dang leg anti-blood clotting things that go off every 5 seconds and do not feel like a leg massage. Stop being so dang relaxed! I concocted a plan that involved eating bacon and by 8am, blood pressure was up and I was on the fast track to going home. I beat everyone home that had had surgery before me (but I'm not competitive or anything) and it took about a week to feel like the anesthesia was finally out of my system. The lump went to pathology. Undetermined. It went to some research institution where many fine doctors had a look. It was suppose to take a week. It took two and a half. The results came back today. Cancer suspect #3, I am not so lucky. So Saturday, I get to go back into surgery and the whole kitten kaboodle will be coming out. Am I afraid? Of cancer? No. If I'm going to have cancer, I'll take this one. They take the thing out, you swallow a radiation pill, badabing, badaboom, it's over. Am I afraid of the IV? Yes! Please no digging around. That really hurt . . . for weeks. And my saving grace in all of this is Ruby. When things were getting rough, I would look at her and know right here, right now Heavenly Father is mindful of me. I am not alone. There is a reason this is happening now and He sent her to me to because He knew I could and would take care of her the way He wants her to be raised. There was no coincidence in the timing of her birth. She came to save me from despair. She came to remind me. Thank you Ruby. Thank you Kaylee.
29 comments:
When it rains, it pours, but thank goodness you have your three beautiful rays of sunshine- and Chad too! We will be praying for you! I'll call you!
i already emailed you. but i will say again, We are praying for you ALL!
i can SO relate to the whole IV deal. i have had some awful experiences. the best so far was my wisdom teeth this year, i had a pill to calm me down beforehand. whatever it was worked like a charm.
my d&c a year and a half ago. not so lucky. i was sweating SO bad and was literally falling out of my chair while the 3rd attempt (2nd person) went at it. it was AWFUL. but none of this compares to that neck biopsy. i don't think i'd make it through that seriously.
keep us updated PLEASE! and i pray that it is as simple as that. i KNOW without a doubt that the Lord is mindful of your family. seen it firsthand.
take care and rest!
Much love my friend! You have a wonderful outlook on this whole thing. Prayers your way especially on Saturday.
Sounds like you're having a great time tihis summer/fall . . . you are in my thoughts and prayers and good luck with the surgery. Keep me posted, and I am only, what, 4-5 hours away? I will be there if you need me. Love you!
We're thinking of and praying for you!
Amber, I'm so sorry you've had to go through all of this. You're in our prayers, serious!
It is a good thing you have a spectacular family to help you during all this garbage!
What do you say to a post like this? You are in my prayers. I hope everything goes well with the next surgery. Take a picture of Ruby to the hospital with you to look at when you wake up. Love you Amber!
wow that is all amazing..you are quite the trooper and thanks for making me cry at the end. i know your kids will give you the strength to carry on. you will beat this! you are such a strong woman, my prayers will be with your family!
Sweet Amber, I'm hoping and praying that you get well soon! Hopefully your next IV experience will not so traumatic-- you probably just had a lousy nurse. <3
Oh my goodness, I am so sorry that you are going through all of this... I too hate the IV process! for those of us with little veins, not being able to drink before makes it even worse. Hopefully you will get someone that knows what they are doing! I will pray for you on saturday!
made me cry...dag blammit.
Oh Amber, so sorry! Sounds like you have been through a ton. Good luck with all you are going through and we will be praying for you. What a blessing you have 3 beautiful children, and God always knows what we need especially in tough times!!!
Amber know that you will never be lacking in prayers coming your way. You have so many people that love you and I am so happy that I get to be one of them!!
Oh Amber, I am so, so sorry. My visiting teacher's husband is going through thyroid cancer treatment right now, and what I will say is that he is doing really ,really well. You will be in out thoughts and prayers.
Amber, your attitude about all of this makes me want to cry. You are amazing, (and i can't believe you let Chad cut that 'friend' off of you!). Amber, if only I could be a 10th of who you are, I would be a much stronger woman. We will be praying for you and God bless your little ones.
I had c-section flashbacks while reading this--the digging of the IV (ugh). The leg clampee thingees. Ugh. Having to pee and getting no real help from the "nurses." Loopy drugs in the system for way too long. I feel your pain, Amber. Hopefully Saturday will be a much better experience for you. You are a strong woman with great outlook and perspective.
We are so sorry to hear about your news. Thank you for sharing your story and how sweet little Ruby is getting you through (as I'm sure your other kids and Chad are too). There is a reason Ruby was sent to you. You are so brave Amber. We are praying for your sweet family. Please let us know how we can help...I'm a good babysitter, an ok cook, and I just learned how to mow a lawn. So let me know how I can help. I know how it is to not have family in the area. Good luck with everything tomorrow! We'll be thinking of you!!!
I am so sad that you have to go through this. You are an amazing women and have such a wonderful out look on life. We love you so much. You are in our prayers.
I am so sad that you have to go through this. You are an amazing women and have such a wonderful out look on life. We love you so much. You are in our prayers.
Amber! When I got your email I knew something was up, but I was hoping it was something good. I am sorry you are going through this, we love you so much. I also KNOW that our Heavenly Father is aware of you, you are an amazing woman, I look up to you in so many ways. All of us know how much you do and how hard you work at following the commandments. Alan just said to me "those kids are really lucky" I agree, they are so blessed to have you as a mommy, already they have a head start.
We love you Amber, we love all of you and your family. You are in our prayers. Has anyone arrange a fast for you yet? We would love to have a special fast for you.
Hang in there.
The Barnes'
P.S. my word verification is daysgro...you know, "dose tings growin?" "ya, daysgro". Ok, maybe that was a bad joke. Love ya ;0)
Amber.. I am praying for you.. I just LOVE reading your posts, you write in a way that I can almost her your voice.. your humor and such is just dead on. I really loved reading this, and my heart does ache for the pain, and hard times that are there for you. I know your sweet angel was sent to you for a reason as well, Ruby is So lucky to have you too!
Know that you have tons of friends here that are praying for you, and your family.. I love your positive upbeat attitude! you are amazing!!
ps. I truly hope your IV/is a Breeze..and not painful..
With back surgery, This was my Biggest FEAR.. the Needle..I totally understand with the poking it was not fun..
Loves to you all.
Andrea
Amber, your post took my breath away. I've spent the last 12 hours thinking about what to say and what I can do to show you our support.
I appreciate your proclaimer at the beginning but know that those of us who love you so much are going to be concerned BECAUSE we love you!!
You can bet your bottom dollar that we will be pouring out our petitions to the Lord on your behalf and doing everything else we can do to show our love and support to you.
You are wonderful. There are legions of us who are with you in this, my brave and beautiful friend!
Amber Walker! (I should say Woolner of course...and will next) It's Beth (Jones) Crawford and I'm so glad to have found you, although not in the way that I did. I saw your support page through friends on facebook. I really hope things go well for you. It was wonderful to read your blog--everything was so you, even your descriptions of the not so nice things, that I felt I could hear your voice again. I miss you and will keep you in my prayers. Love ya!
Beth
So, hope you don't mind a random ol' blog stranger to comment on your blog :) My friend Kylee Shields made a "facebook post" about her good friend's wife who was going through Thyroid Cancer, and it piqued my interest! Why? Because I am a 3 year Thyroid Cancer Survivor myself!
I am so sorry you are in the midst of it, but you're right..the IV really is the worst part ;) I did the RAI treatment back in 07, and aside from getting very lonely (no fun/friends/husband) since I was radio-active, it was very bearable. I just thought I would reach out to you and let you know I can definitely relate. I also initially had one surgery to remove my left lobe, and then had to go in a month later to remove the entire gland + lymph nodes. And, I think back then, the only thing I was worried about was having to reopen my scar!
Please feel free to contact me if you want, I have an awesome Endocrinologist (if you live in UT? not sure). brandonanderica@gmail.com
I will keep you in my prayers-
Amber, I haven't stopped thinking about you since I read this post...
We are totally praying for you and your little family. Seriously, you are amazing. I am so glad Ruby came into your life now to give you such happiness.
Best of luck. We're sending all sorts of good thoughts your way from Reno.
Amber, I don't know if you even remember me. We met at BYU a few times; I'm Kirsten's cousin and my husband Jeff was in your major. We will pray for you. You are such a strong, amazing woman. May you be blessed, and most of all guided and comforted. BTW, Chad's music is amazing. We think it would be perfect for each of our parents, not to mention some Sunday music for around here; we could use some peace and serenity during the hullaballoo of getting ready for 830 church. Ick.
Carrie told me all about your horrific past few weeks today at our adoption training. First of all, we miss you! And second, we are praying for you. You poor thing. I agree, these adopted babies are such gifts and come at JUST the right time. I hope you are feeling better soon so you can enjoy every moment with your children.
Wow. I have been out of the loop man. Amber! This post was hilarious (hopefully that will not be viewed as wildly inappropriate--but hey man you're a good writer) I feel like I am completley caught up. Once this is over, remind me to tell you about "THE CATHETER" they inflicted on me prior to Beren's birth. In the meantime, know that we are thinking of you and your family and praying more often than we are thinking. You are remembered with much love. I'll check back soon.
I'm so sorry about all this. We are praying for you, and I hope everything goes well. You are such a brave person, and you have a great attitude about it all. You are so funny, and should be a writer if you're not already. I could never write something so brilliant and entertaining, even with a fun happy topic. We love you.
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