It was 6 years ago today that my life changed.
6 years ago today that I touched my neck and felt a huge, hard lump. 6 years ago that I looked in the mirror and could see it clearly.
I went to the ER and, after waiting for hours, was told that I was the perfect demographic for thyroid cancer. I was 20 years old. I was told that I needed surgery because the tumor was at risk of suffocating me. Suffocating. The pain became so unbearable that I was on opioids for 2 months. For 25 days I had to wait to find out whether the mass was benign or malignant. Whether or not I had cancer.
It was bigger than the surgeon expected. She had to cut deeper into the muscle; had to take more of the gland along with several of my lymph nodes. It hurt. I woke up with a blood-filled bag hanging from a tube laced through my throat. The first time I saw myself after surgery, I cried. I felt, and looked, like Frankenstein's monster.
I've been sick ever since. A body can't function properly with only half a thyroid. I'm tired all the time, yet I can't ever sleep. I have brain fog and joint pain and heart palpitations. The medication that I need to live costs $350 out of my pocket.
You might think this post will end heroically - that it will read, "but despite all of that, I'm still alive and I'm grateful!" And I wish that it did. But the truth is, I grieve this day every single year. I wish it had never happened to me. I hate being sick, and I hate looking in the mirror and seeing my scar. When I notice it in photos, like in the last picture, I sometimes still want to throw up.
I guess what I want to say is, sometimes hardships just fucking suck. A tragedy is just that - a tragedy - and what doesn't kill you can, in fact, leave you frail and broken. And it's okay to mourn for your old self, because I certainly do. I mourn for her every single day. And I mourn for my present self, too, for all that she has had to endure.
