The Good Cancer

Antibiotics Don't Fix Everything

Time went on and my life continued pretty much as normal. I took my antibiotics and began to feel a little bit better. I hoped that the antibiotics would do the trick. My knot did seem to be going down some after a week or so of taking them. However, when the last pill entered my system and my bottle was empty, the knot was still there. It was smaller, but still there. Still large enough to see. Still firm to the touch.

At this point, I wasn't really all that worried. I was more like extremely annoyed. I just wanted the knot to go away or at least figure out what it was and why it didn't want to go away. Christmas was coming up. I wanted to keep going on with baking cookies and finding presents for people and everything else. Instead, I had to keep going on from doctor to doctor to try to make sense of what was happening inside of my body.

From what I remember, the ear, nose, and throat guy was pretty cool. Although he was still concerned, he kept all conversation light. I felt at ease and comfrotable with him, unlike other times when I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin. I wished all doctors I would ever see could be like him. Even though he knew something wasn't quite right, it didn't have me worried. He was calm, cool, and collected. I appreciated that more than he would ever know.

We scheduled for me to have my knot taken out so it could be biopsied for further analysis. He did seem to think it might have something to do with my thyroid and recommended that we go see an endocrinologist. His brother happened to be one and he gave us all of the contact information we needed. My heart sank when I learned we had to go to yet another doctor. I liked this one. Hopefully his upbeat and positive personality ran in the family.

So, we made our way over to this endocrinologist. iWe explained everything up until this point to him We included details from my neck looking enlarged, which was confirmed by the school photos. Although we had a biopsy scheduled to take out the knot, he decided to do a slightly different test. He wanted to do a needle biopsy of my thyroid.

This procedue, he exlained, wouldn't require surgery. He could do it right then and there during our meeting. He would numb my neck where my thyroid layed beneath. Then the needle would be inserted deep into the thyroid tissue, blood would be drawn and collected for further testing.

My mom sat in the corner. I could tell she would rather not be in the room. She isn't the biggest fan of needles and I have to say I am not either. The first time I ever got my blood drawn, I almost fainted. However, she staid for moral support. Her prsence did help to calm me down. If she had left the room, there's no telling how I would've felt or if I would've been strong enough to handle the situation. I knew she was nervous, perhpas more so than I was. She did her best not to show it.

The doctor had left to gather supplies and when he returned,  my mom turned her head slightly in the opposite direction. As long as she didn't see the needle, she would be fine. As long as I didn't see the needle, I would be fine too, but it was too late. Just as I was about to close my eyes, I saw it.

The doctor had the biggest needle I hadever seen with these huge vials to fill with blood. My eyes grew wide and I tried not to think about how much things would hurt. The needle that went in my arm a few weeks ago was nothing compared to this. I layed back as instructed and braced myself for what was about to come. He also told me that once the needle was in, I couldn't move or swallow. Any small movement could make the needle slip and well...you let your mind go there.

I tried to close my eyes, but it was like I was fozen in place. I ccouldn't close my eyes or move or even breathe easily. The not moving part was actually a good thing. Also, since I was lying on my back, at least I didn't see the needle in full view. 

He gave me something to numb the area and then stuck the first long, big needle into my thyroid. I didn't feel anything. This isn't so bad, I think to myself. The worst part was not being able to swallow. It seemed like it took forever and a day for the vial to be filled with my blood. My blood that would hold the answers to all of our questions. 

He finally allowed me to sit up and my mom, who had been curled up in the corner, came back over beside me. She rested her hand on my shoulder. Although a simple gesture, it did what she intended.That hand relaxes me and ensures that I have been brave throughout the whole thing. She couldn't have done it herself.

The doctor told us that he would let us know what the results are, but that it usually takes a few days for them to come back from the lab. So we left and began to wait for an answer. My other biospy was still scheduled. My mom wrote me a note to take to school to let my teachers know I would be out for a few days and needed to get any makeup work. It turns out, after doing this, that biopsy got canceled. The next day, I still show up at school. No one knows why and I don't bother to tell them. I try to focus on my work, but all I can think out are the results of the needle biopsy.