My surgeon called and left a message early this morning—less than 48 hours after the surgery. He said he was onboard an airplane at Honolulu International, taxying toward the runway, and getting ready to take off for a ten day trip to California; and that, while he should be putting his cell phone away, he just couldn’t leave town without trying to get in touch with me one more time. Apparently he had made several attempts to reach me and finally just left a voice mail. Fearing the worst—I mean, what kind of doctor, especially a surgeon, does that kind of thing?—I quickly called him back hoping to contact him before he had to turn off his cellphone. The news: he had received the post-op pathology report late last night and it didn’t look as good as we had hoped.
The comprehensive biopsy indicated a differentiated papillary thyroid cancer that is probably at either a stage II or III—but “staging” was yet to be determined. What this meant was that more surgery would be needed and, in fact, had already been scheduled for only two weeks away. The second surgery will be to remove the rest of my thyroid—the isthmus and right hemisphere—as well as nearby tissue in the neck and the lymph nodes.
The surgeon said that about four weeks following, I would have to undergo a treatment called radioactive iodine ablation; which is meant to track down, reveal, and annihilate any remaining thyroid tissue or miscreant cancer cells, regardless of where they may have spread. He took the time to reassure me that the prognosis for this type of cancer is generally very good. Papillary thyroid cancer typically responds well to treatment.
My wife cried at this latest news. Step-by-step, I just have to keep moving forward, trying to live one day at a time, trying to just be “in the moment.” I may have cancer, but I don’t have to let cancer define me. It may demand a lot of my time, my energy, and my resources, but I refuse to let it dominate my life. I have a purpose in living—to glorify God with my life and to help others be ready to go home and be with Him forever in that “new heavens and new earth in which righteousness dwells” (2 Peter 3:13). I have beautiful plans for ministry, for loving and serving others in His name; and, by His grace, I intend to continue pursuing them. I’m leaning hard now on one of my daughter’s favorite passages of scripture:
For I know the plans that I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon Me and come and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart. (Jeremiah 29:11-13, NASB)
My hope and prayer is that this next surgery, and the following protocol, will do the trick; that it will get this all behind me, and enable me to move on with life—forever changed, of course, but cancer free—Lord willing!