A Pain In the Neck

I'm not a fancy-poo writer.  This is not going to be a blog article that will stop time.  I've just had some things on my mind I needed to write down.

A couple days ago, as I was preparing to go to bed, I noticed a lump in my neck where another lump used to be, four years ago, when I wrote THIS post.  As you can probably imagine, I had an even harder time going to sleep than usual (because usually I don't sleep for a couple days at a time, but let's not get into that).  I tried not let my mind go there, but c'mon, it's going to go there.  So I started Internet searching the possibility that my cancer has returned.  Let's be honest, the Internet is pretty much the worst place ever to go to when diagnosing a problem.  It's sensationalized, it's apocalyptic, it's every worst-case scenario known to man.  But what was I to do?  Everyone was asleep, and it's not like I could jog on over to my ENT (well, technically, he's in my ward and I could, but I don't think he'd appreciate a middle of the night consultation).  You should know, I had already been praying and it was working.  I was feeling better and starting to think more rationally... but only a little more rationally.  Then, I decided to grab the Ensign magazine.  There has been only one time in my life where I felt worse after going to the temple than before (four years ago) and one time where I felt worse after reading an Ensign article than before.  This was that one time.  I will just give you a brief recap of that article.  So, man #1 helps man #2 move while man #2's wife is in the hospital with pregnancy complications.  They talk for hours about what each would do if their WIFE WAS TO DIE.  So  Man #2's wife has the baby and is okay.  Man #1, however, is in the car with his wife and child when someone else hits them and KILLS HIS WIFE.  And he was grateful he had already made a plan for this unfortunate event.  I mean, what?  Is the Lord trying to tell me something?  How am I suppose to sleep ever again?

For the next day, my mind wanders to thoughts of cancer and dying.  When I was first diagnosed with thyroid cancer, so very many people told me of all the cancers to have, this was the best.  It's "curable".  This is a farce.  No cancer is good.  Yes, I am grateful that I did not end up with something super scary and super bad, but if I could enumerate the things not having a thyroid has done to my body, this post would be much longer and I would be depressed by the end of it.  It kinda sucks, in a big way, because I know people who had the thyroidectomy, take the hormones, and have moved on.  But for some reason, it just made what was already bad, oh so very bad.  I thought about having to go through another surgery, that stinking, crap, no iodine diet, not taking any thyroid hormone to prepare for radiation, the complete inability to actually move one foot in front of the other without wanting to cry, and how I was going to take care of my family through it all.  Now that I know what to expect, I wouldn't want to do it again.  I believe, for me, it was easier when I didn't really comprehend what was coming.

And, I thought about what if something happened to me.  What if I died?  I love my husband, he is a good man, but he is no good at finances.  When I first met him, he would simply go to an ATM and check his balance.  If you do this and think that is how much money you actually have in your account, stop.  And the house?  I am teaching my kids to clean, but they are eight and six and four. The laundry?  The grocery shopping?  Dinner?  Lunches?  Homework?  Who would take care of Ruby?  What about after school?  Karate?  OT?  Sick days?  Would my husband be able to sustain his practice and grieve and take care of the kids too?  He doesn't even know the passwords for online banking.  What if he got remarried someday?  Would she love my kids?  Really really love them and read them Narnia at night and tickle them and tell them they are amazing human beings?  I got a little ahead of myself, right?  But it only takes a few seconds to think all this.  It was the first time I have ever really felt the frailness of mortality.   And I comprehended the work that I do in my family.  It is filled with many mundane tasks.  It can seem endless and exasperating and overwhelming.  But what I do is a lot.  What I do cannot be measured.  What I do is important to at least four other people.

The kids and I have been listening to Mary Poppins on CD while we drive.  I would say it's for our cerebral benefit, but really it's the only way I can keep them from driving me and each other from going bonkers while driving from point A to point B.  Seriously, even two minutes in the car is three minutes too long.  In the beginning of the story, the author sets up the scene for the home where Mary Poppins will soon be nannying.  Is "nannying" even a word?

"If you are looking for Number Seventeen—and it is more than likely that you will be, for this book is all about that particular house—you will very soon find it. To begin with, it is the smallest house in the Lane. And besides that, it is the only one that is rather dilapidated and needs a coat of paint. But Mr. Banks, who owns it, said to Mrs. Banks that she could have either a nice, clean, comfortable house or four children. But not both, for he couldn’t afford ­it.
  "And after Mrs. Banks had given the matter some consideration she came to the conclusion that she would rather have Jane, who was the eldest, and Michael, who came next, and John and Barbara, who were Twins and came last of all. So it was settled, and that was how the Banks family came to live at Number Seventeen..."

In the end . . . No, I shouldn't say "end" because I saw the doctor today and he said it was only internal stitching trying to absorb and most likely not the cancer returned . . .So, all in all, I have had a couple days to come to this conclusion:  I might have a house (and by house, I mean a body) that is "rather dilapidated and needs a coat of paint" and it might remain that way for a very long time, but I would much much much much much rather have my Sam, my Noelle, my Ruby and my Chad than a "nice, clean, comfortable house".