Taking the bitter with the sweet

The preliminary report from the doctor is that there was no uptake of the iodine, so “there’s nothing there.” This is good news, because I won’t have to have any more radiation.

I wish I were entirely happy about this; it’s only bittersweet because, as usual, this was an extremely emotionally fraught experience filled with frustration and conflicting information. Mom was there with me yesterday and as I was sent through the machine, I couldn’t helping thinking of what she was going through watching me do this; it may be one of my own girls one day. Of course, it seems like barely a blip on Eric’s radar screen, but that’s another issue entirely. His lukewarm and rather indifferent reaction to the news only adds to my sense of anti-climax. Zuzu is having a hard time drinking from the bottle. Our usually mild-tempered and placid baby has been fussier than she has ever been and I’m pretty sure it’s from “learning” how to drink from the bottle and being hungry. I also hate not being able to nurse her for the next few days, although at the rate she’s eating right now, we stored up plenty of frozen breastmilk to last the 130 hours (13 half lives times ten) til the iodine goes away.

What annoys me most about this situation is we learned nothing that we didn’t really know already. The summer before my exams we had those repetitious ultrasounds that told us pretty much exactly what I was told yesterday. The only difference was, that endocrinologist recognized that nothing indicated that I HAD to have the tests right away, that I could nurse for nearly a year. This time, part of the turmoil was my absolute terror that I’d make the girls sick from radiation exposure and I just don’t feel like my doctor appreciated that. Quite frankly, I’m also dreading what the insurance company will do with all this, too.

We haven’t gotten the official all-clear, but it looks like I won’t have to deal with this again…or maybe I will. No one’s told me clearly what to expect in the long-term and I’ve yet to get a “Have a nice life” from a doctor. Again, another frustration. So, no…I’m not “thrilled.” What I’ve hated about my experiences with cancer (both when I was twenty and we weren’t sure what was going on and now) is that it robs me of my sense of security. That hasn’t changed and I don’t think it ever will.

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