Zonked!

Years ago, Monty Hall stood on a stage in front of an oh-so-live studio audience and offered hopeful contestants the opportunity to win big.  Clad in bear suits and spacealien'd tinfoil, and tutus with fairy wings, the chosen "traders" would throw chance and bravado into the air and see what stuck.  If the players were really lucky, they'd get the try their hand at selecting the correct entryway to the best prizes. "Monty," they'd say, surveying the trio of closed curtains, "show me what's behind door number three!"

The door would whoosh open and, if luck or the producers' need for better ratings were on their side, the room behind would hold a new car or an exotic trip or piles of cash.  If not, well, our trader had just been Zonked.  Congratulations, enjoy your llama!

These days, I think there's livestock in my future.

My most recent visit to the Endocrinologist yielded some frustrating results.  After playing around for some time with my Tirosint dosage, we thought we'd have one that would balance the level at a good smidge-too-high.  What we failed to consider, however, is my extreme love of chocolate. And cupcakes. And bagels. I'll explain.  Sigh.

So, I've been hitting the carbs a bit heavy.  I won't sugarcoat this...er, actually, I guess I will.  Or, I did.

Mmmmmm, sugar...

Which is how I managed to pack on an extra 5 - 8 lbs (depending on whose scale you believe and which shoes I've donned) since October.  It's winter. I'm hiding under bulky sweaters during perfectly cozy snuggle weather, and it's too cold to jog, and it's baking season, and I'm a known stress nibbler.  Matt will tell you all about my ability to "Tiffany-bite" -- That means deliciously ittybitty slivers, if you haven't experienced the phenomenon -- my way through pans of brownies, batches of cookies, pints of ice cream...  Much like a grizzly, I pad myself with an extra layer to help me hibernate the winter away.

Aside from being a poor lifestyle choice (aaah, chocolate, my friend, my vice!), apparently, this can greatly mess with one's need for thyroid horomones.  Even a weight change that doesn't require bigger pants does result in a shift to one's TSH.  Sigh.  Soooo, my TSH went from being a not-too-awful, almost-surpressed .59 to a ridiculously high 1.84. Yowza!

Hey, you over there with the normal functioning thyroid?!  Yes, YOU. You're probably rocking a 1.84.  Me?  Thyroid cancer warrior that I'm supposed to be?  NOT allowed to ride the triple digit TSHs.  Eeek! 

To counteract the rise, the Endo upped my Tirosint dose again, hoping to bring it down to closer to the .4 he'd ideally like to see it at. 

So there's that.

My Thyroglobulin paraded in at .7.  Ideally, this should be at a big, fat 0.  Since Thyroglobulin is an indicator of body-made Thyroid hormone, the presence of any in a thyroid cancer patient indicates that somewhere thyroid cells (i.e. the cancer) are active.  If you've been following along, you may recall that my last Thyroglobulin number was a .6.  On the plus side, this change is not significant enough to indicate anything.  On the less joyous side, it is still not zero.

Add all of that together with the troubling ultrasound results (hey there, lingering thyroid tissue!) and you have one cautious and slightly aggressive Endocrinologist.  He's signed me up for a neck biopsy in a couple of weeks to get a closer look at the 8x6x3 mm nuisance hanging around.  And, now that the Thyrogen shots have officially been approved, the week that follows the biospsy has me swallowing the I-123 and sliding into the Whole Body Scan.  And then?

Well, we finally talked about the "and then."

My Endocrinlogist delved into the dangers of not addressing the tissue and/or "or what" that still takes up residence in my neck.  He feels that we'll soon be making a decision to do one of three things...

Hit it, Monty...

Door #1:  Surgery again.  We could go back in attempt to rid my body of the slice of thyroid the surgeon left behind.

Door # 2: Radiation again. Another blast of the ol' I-131 to zap any cancerous cells looking to start a fight up in there.

Door #3:  Nothing.  Watch and wait.  Continue to monitor closely that 8x6x3 foe to see if it makes a move.  This is, by far, his least favorite option, as it allows our adversary a chance to attempt a sneak attack.  The benefits, however, include no more risky surgery, no more chancing IV antibiotics I may be allergic to, no more heavy exposure to radiation that can cause other cancers.


We'll wait to get through the biopsy and Whole Body Scan before we start laying out a plan of attack, however.  Until then, I glance from door to door to door, praying not to get Zonked.

Meanwhile, a recent trip to the GYN has me heading to the Women's Imaging tomorrow for a mammogram and an ultrasound.  You know what's the easiest way to take your mind off of thyroid cancer? Find a suspicious lump in your breast. Wheeeeee!

Oh, look, a cookie!

I'm starting to think I should take more vitamins. 


In other, much happier news, Matt and I are frantically finalizing plans for our wedding celebration party.  Yay!  While eloping in a giant elephant on New Year's Day was so ridiculously fun and amazing and perfect, we're excited to be able to share all of the love and warm fuzzies with our friends and family. C'mon, April!

And then, the honeymoon!    :::biggestgrinever:::

Hitched! Inside Lucy the Elephant in Margate, NJ

The next few weeks will be filled with pokes and prods and intrusive and obnoxious tests and scans.  But, I've come dressed to this gameshow in my best ninja garb, determined to dodge as many sneaky opponents as possible.   I'm not choosing a door yet, but I know a definite pull of a curtain will eventually be required.  Fingers crossed, I'll aim for the grand prize and if, in the end, I take home a camel instead...well, you're all welcome to hop on a hump and come for a ride.

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