
Elizabeth, United States
At 30, when you find a small, hard lump deep in your neck, you question whether it has always been there. You ask other people if they can feel it and if they have it, too. You reason with yourself that it is likely that your body is trying to fight an infection. You don't expect it to be bulging out of your neck less than two months later.
At 31, you don't expect to be sitting in your doctor's office being told it isn't your thyroid, because that sits lower in your neck. You don't expect the ultrasound technician to question why you didn't "come in sooner." And, you definitely don't expect to hear your doctor say the words "your ultrasound results show you likely have metastatic thyroid cancer, that lump is probably an affected lymph node, we just need to confirm on biopsy."
You don't expect to have to put your life on pause to have two surgeries and radioactive iodine all within 7 months. You don't expect to get complications - a paralyzed vocal cord, a severed nerve that leads to atrophy. You don't expect your calendar to be filled with appointments... doctors, scans, physical therapy, voice therapy, the list goes on... all while also trying to work full time.
Being diagnosed with cancer opens the door to all of the things that you didn't expect your life to be. No one grows up and wishes or expects to be a cancer patient. No one teaches you what to do when cancer comes knocking on your door. Cancer is an uninvited guest in the home that is your body and it is the hardest eviction notice to serve. Cancer takes away the safety you feel in the place that you should feel your safest, your body.
Through it all, you become empowered. You become your own advocate. You learn to ask the hard questions. You put your body through the wringer - you see it get torn down and slowly built back up. You learn your strength because you don't have a choice but to learn it.
Cancer taught me perspective. Cancer taught me patience. Cancer taught me to advocate. Cancer taught me perseverance. And, cancer taught me grit.