Mark's Cancer Story (from my perspective)

I've received so many inquiries about Mark's thyroid cancer and his treatment, that I just want to create this one post to explain when this process started, how it started, and what his treatment has been so far.

In late December 2021 Mark went for an annual physical with his PCP (primary care provider). His MD felt something larger than a normal sized thyroid gland in his neck. Simple blood work indicated that his thyroid hormones were working a lot harder than is within the normal range (hyper thyroidism) for production of thyroid hormones. He had a thyroid biopsy which was positive for thyroid cancer 

At that point he was diagnosed with thyroid cancer and he was scheduled for thyroid removal on 01/19/22. He spent one night at AMC (Theda Clark Appleton or whatever it's called now). With no food or ice chips, his surgery was delayed by 8 hours (they got him into the OR around 5pm when we showed up at the surgery center at 9am as was scheduled). 

He was discharged on 01/20/22. I picked him up and we drove back to Green Bay. He had a thick scar in the center of his neck. During his first follow up appointment his surgeon gave him the news that he would start a low-iodine diet, have injections on 02/21/22 and 02/22/22, and on 02/23/22 he would swallow a really large radiation pill. Because he could throw off residual radiation, Apollo and I had to bug out after I was done with work on 02/22/22 and spend a week in Appleton. Mark had to spend the week in isolation: no visitors, no grocery shopping, no getting gas for the car, no going through a car wash; zero contact with anyone.

Because my parents are who they wonderfully are, they spent 02/16/22 through 02/20/22 preparing food that was low-iodine from the website thyca.com (or something similar to that). My dad dropped off a week's worth of meals on 02/21/22 when he picked up Apollo for our stay in Appleton. 

I packed up all of my work computers, monitors, cables and cords after I was done working on 02/22/22. I packed a bag with clothes, shoes, toiletries, my iPhone, ear pods, and my own laptop with various cords for the week I would spend working from my parents basement. Upon my arrival my dad helped me haul everything into the house and we carried my work equipment piece by piece to the basement where I could plug into their router and set up all my monitors, keyboards, headset and mouse. Mom had dinner ready for me after the work install. I've had breakfast, lunch and dinner prepared for me everyday sine I arrived which is pretty sweet after trying to follow Mark's low-iodine diet for two weeks.

Today, Monday 02/28/22, Mark had a follow up appointment with his MD. As of the time of this post I haven't heard how the appointment went. Tomorrow, 03/01/22, after work my dad and I will take my work stuff piece by piece up from the basement and put it in the same box I hauled it down in to Appleton. Tomorrow morning I will pack my clothes, toiletries, electronics and books I thought I would have time to read in my tote bag and satchel so once my work stuff is packed and ready, Apollo and I can leave Appleton and return to Green Bay.

I know how scary a cancer diagnosis can be. Mark wasn't "available" when I had my first skin cancer treatment. He was living at a place in IL called Freedom Farm for AODA treatment. When I had an abnormal mammogram in December 2012, he was there, but he wasn't, mostly by my choice. 

Despite my "attention seeking behavior" which I've heard from a dozen therapists through the course of my life, individual, personal medical crises are something I choose to navigate on my own. I don't know why; maybe I don't want to be a burden to anyone? Whatever the reason, I've gone through some significant health matters without the support of my husband. Empathy isn't his greatest strength and I know that so I will downplay my medical stuff with him and seek support elsewhere; i.e., my parents, friends, and coworkers.

Mark is similar in that he doesn't disclose a lot about any medical treatment he needs. I have no idea what he was injected with on 02/21/22 and on 02/22/22. I have no idea what his appointment today was for. Part of that is because Mark doesn't ask a lot of clarification questions because he doesn't want to know the extent of what's going on with him medically, and part of it is because he doesn't understand medical lingo and he won't ask questions to satisfy his understanding because he's embarrassed by the shear need to ask what everything means in layman's terms.

Tomorrow I will know more. Not necessarily the medical details of his follow up appointment from today, but it will be the information in Mark's own way of telling me. 

Delivery Food, Glorious Delivery Food...?

One of the things I miss most about living in the Fox Valley, technically Menasha, is access to a significant number of restaurants that deliver good food. Really good Friday Fish Fries made with actual perch, local pizza, Chinese food, and Italian. Even if delivery wasn't an option, we were practically within walking distance of the usual fast food restaurants, and take out from Victoria's, one of our top 10 favorites, barely took 20 minutes round trip.

When we settled in Green Bay in the fall of 2019, eventually we wanted to try the take-out/delivery restaurant "scene". Remember this classic, from our first local delivery order:

This was the tilapia I ordered from a Mexican restaurant here. I'm still speechless. How was I supposed to eat this thing that, minus the breading, could have been caught on a fishing line an hour earlier? The spine and all those tiny fish bones are still in there. How was I supposed to navigate that? I don't have the skill set required to fillet and de-bone a fish. That's why I order it from restaurants people.

There have been a dozen mistakes with our orders since. Perkins has forgotten muffins, Dairy Queen forgot Mark's Peanut Buster Parfait (why would anyone order from Dairy Queen if it didn't include ice cream?), local restaurants near Lambeau Field have delivered hamburgers fried into hockey pucks. There's one restaurant close to Lambeau from where we ordered breakfast and my eggs benedict were not included. I called the restaurant and the person I talked to claimed to be the manager and said, "Stop in anytime and we'll give you the eggs benedict for free." Roughly three weeks later we stopped there for breakfast and the server and whoever was "in charge" that Sunday morning had no idea what I was talking about, and could not find any notes related to my allegedly free eggs benedict. I ordered something else, accepting that I will never get reimbursed the $13 I paid for the non-existent eggs nor will I ever get to eat the meal I am entitled to. 

Most recently we ordered from Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC) for dinner last night, Friday 02/18/22. This is the confirmation text message I received:

Ok. This was good. We chose the delivery time of 6:45pm. Then at 6:31pm, I received this text message:

This was bad. Mark and I were expecting our meal within 15 minutes when I received this text message and I called the restaurant we had ordered from. I spoke with what sounded like a young woman and explained that I had just gotten a text that my order was cancelled and was wondering why. She said, "I'm sorry I can't really hear you. You're cutting in and out." I practically shouted, "Why was my order cancelled?" Employee: "What?? Your order cancelled? We ran out of chicken." One thing cell phones cannot provide is the satisfaction of slamming the phone receiver back into its cradle. I needed that. Instead all I could do was push the red disconnect button really hard with my thumb.

Yes, the ultimate irony: ordering chicken from Kentucky Fried CHICKEN only to be told they have run out of CHICKEN. If an item is in the very name of the restaurant, call me crazy, but I would assume that's the one food they would not run out of. Perhaps a more accurate name would then be, Kentucky Fried Sometimes-Chicken? Kentucky Fried (If We Don't Run Out) Chicken? The list could go on ad infinitum. 

To my absolute amazement, this morning I received an emailed customer satisfaction survey from KFC corporate headquarters. I tented my fingers, narrowed my eyes, and whispered gravely to myself, "Excellent" in the vain of Marty Burns. I was honest. Is it my fault that the correct response in every category was "Severely Disappointed"? No. I doubt I'll hear from them again, but if I should, I am prepared to relate this very story to them as well.

To Sarah, With Love

One of my greatest joys is writing. Whether it's pen to paper, which may sound archaic, or fingers to keyboard, I love writing. When I'm writing for my blog or for a Storycatcher's submission, I can edit, and edit, and edit some more before I find my scribing worthy of posting or submitting. This can be a torturous process.

I'm a perfectionist by nature, although generally not one who reworks and tweaks my writing to the point where I miss a deadline or throw up my hands and say, "Fuck this. It's never going to be good enough." My perfectionism isn't paralyzing. It's more self-critical than anything. When I click "Publish" or "Send" I re-read what I've written and that's when the chorus of inner critics break into song in a minor key. They are very loud and very convincing. 

I'm trying to find a writing/storytelling/poetry group in Green Bay. So far I haven't been very successful. I found the storytelling group Storycatcher's based in Appleton through the website meetup.com. Earlier this evening I tried to find something similar in Green Bay with no success. If anyone reading this is aware of such a group, please message me via Facebook. 

We moved to Green Bay on Labor Day Weekend 2019 for my job. I have a cousin and her family that live in Green Bay, plus an aunt and uncle, two second cousins, one of whom died in the fall of 2021. I performed the smudging at her funeral ceremony which is a sacred honor that goes back multiple generations on the maternal side of our family, Native Americans of the Menominee Tribe. I've been told that our tribe's spirit animal is a bear which represents healing and helping others. The irony of my cousin being a nurse and me being a therapist is not lost on me. It's not really ironic, it's who we were meant to be, predetermined before any of us were born. That comforts me because I explored many different careers and jobs before it became clear to me that I needed to go to graduate school so I could be a counselor, a spiritual healer of sorts.

On the day of her passing, gathered family saw an eagle flying independent and free in the afternoon sky. Perhaps this was her spirit animal, free from illness, treatment and pain letting her family know she too was finally free from physical suffering. Years ago at a spiritual retreat I became aware that my spirit animal was a female eagle, powerful, independent, free, yet nurturing and loving to her young. When the day comes that I pass, I hope someone close to me sees that eagle soaring free, released from the human bonds of pain, hurt and suffering. Isn't that what we all hope for at our end? I think we do.