Snip

I'm trying not to panic.

This is the day I have kind of dreaded. I have tried not to think about it, and yet it happens that because I'm trying so hard not to think of it, my brain goes into overdrive thinking about it.

I went to my doctor for an update on my prescription. Just a normal routine "hey, was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop in." And get poked and prodded and drained of all my blood. She handed me a sheaf of papers of various things I should do – the boob squash test, the bone density test, the thyroid ultrasound test.

Yeah, the thyroid ultrasound test. The thyroid is a teeny tiny rice-sized grain of something, I don't know what, at the base of your throat. You have to throw your head way back so the ultrasound gizmo can even find the little thyroid. So, mine seems to have nodules. And one of them is "suspicious." This is a diagnostic term that makes my skin crawl. I've had "suspicious squamus cells" before. Suspicious raises the eyebrows of lab techs and they love to scrutinize those suspicious cells and find things. Like cancer.

Oh, I don't have cancer. At least I don't think so. I'm trying to not think about it – you know. Don't think the C-word and what do you get? Everything spells out cancer. The old lady crossing the street looks like Cancer. The kitty on the front porch looks like Cancer. You close your eyelids and they spell out Can-Cer.

So the doc called me today to say the tests came back (and I had lots and lots of tests), especially considering I only just dropped by for a friendly update-my-prescription visit. I am now scheduled for a biopsy. That's a scary word too – almost as bad as the C-word. Biopsy – the B-Word, the "just a little snip" word. In this case, the Ultrasound-Guided-Needle-Biopsy word. In my throat.

I'm trying not to panic.

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