meet the newest man in my life...

Say "HELLO" to the Dr. Sharma.  ENT extraordinaire, 
specializing in the cutting open of people's necks
(otherwise referred to as a "surgeon") and then
sewing them back up again. 




He may look like he is too young to hold down a
job as important as this one (I am guessing he 
comes from good genes) but I can assure you that 
he is old enough to hold, and wield, a mighty scalpel. 



He has a thing for thyroids.  He likes people's
necks, but in a not so "vampire-y" way.  He
prefers the use of knives (scalpels) to his teeth
and then is also very considerate--as he 
sews his victims (aka PATIENTS) back up again. 
Or possibly he tapes us back up again, 
I hear surgeons are big on sticky tape 
these days--less scaring. 



I plan on letting you know for sure one way
or the another.




Unfortunately, or fortunately for me, he is really
good at what he does and I have a date with him
tomorrow.  As much as I begged, whined and pleaded
to let him cut open someone else's neck--it seems like
mine was the one he was after.




Now, before anyone gets jealous (especially Kyle, 
who has met him I must add) of his dark good looks, 
and his vast knowledge of medical words...




...words like "thyroidectomy", "parathyroidectomy", and
"parathyroid".  (Say THOSE three times fast--
I double dog dare you!)


Because who doesn't want a man that say "thyroidectomy"
to you all night long?


Let me tell you a little bit about how I came to 
know this good man.




It's a long-ish story that I will condense for the sake
of time.  


A few months back (yes-while my father was in the 
process of dying)  I found a golf ball in my neck.


Not literally, of course, but there it was none the less.


Some people have frogs in their throats, not me--I am
a good old fashioned "golf ball" kinda gal.




It makes life more interesting.




After ultrasounds, biopsies, blood work, more
blood work and more doctor visits (at $50 a pop 
I might add) than a girl wants to step on 
a scale for...I was handed over to this good mans
office.


Results from all proceeding tests were "inconclusive".
(meaning no one knows what the heck is wrong with me
for sure but it could be cancer-as much as I hate typing 
that out-and I REALLY need to know!)


So the final option, behind door number 3, is to have
the golf ball (aka "tumor" or "nodule") removed.


To test the tumor conclusively, once and for all, 
and then go from there.


(Option One: benign golf ball...celebrate and
recover while sipping Pina Coladas on the beach.
Tell people I was involved in a gang and got into
some wicked knife fights.  Flash scar on neck
accordingly.  See shocked looks on faces.


Option Two: the "C" word--immediately back into
surgery, removal of other half of thyroid, and
any lymph nodes it may or may not have spread to.
Have nervous break down.  Lift self up, brush
self off and keep putting one foot in front 
of the other.


Praying mightily for Option One.  
Test results available 8 days after surgery.)




Surgery involves a short hospital stay, and a really
cool scar that will look like something out of a
Frankenstein movie.  




I am still not sure how I feel about looking
like a female version of Frankenstein...
too bad it's not closer to Halloween.




Some people get great new boobs, Me? I just go for
really ugly scars on my neck.  Awesome!




It's something I've kept on the "down low" for a long
while, but at this point (that really cool scar and
all) it's something I can't hide anymore.




So tomorrow, under the care of this good Doctor,
I will be having one half of my thyroid removed--
along with said golf ball that is growing inside
of said thyroid.




He told me he is "the guy" for this
in Utah.  The average surgeon nationally does about
50 of these a year.  The amazing Dr. Sharma
does between 400 and 500.  He REALLY knows his
stuff.




I am grateful that my neck will be in his hands.




If you are inclined to prayer,  I am a firm
believer in it.  I would take any offered up in my 
behalf to the Big Guy at this point.




Sometimes life throws you a curve ball (or two
or three all in the same week, month or year.)
but I want you to know, that I know that life is
still good.




People are good.  And as hard and scary as this is
for me, I (once again) have been amazed and humbled
and overwhelmed at the love and help and support
that others have offered me during this time.




People who just step in and do what I can't.
Surrogate mothers who will help with my children.
People who will (once again) make my counters
over-flow with good things to eat.  Prayers
offered in my behalf.  Phone calls, texts and
well wishes.  They bring a lump to my throat.




Well, ANOTHER lump to my throat.  This one is
a much better lump than the one that is already
there.




I am so blessed to have people in my life that 
lift and carry me when the going gets hard.




I feel like a very rich woman indeed.




Very rich, indeed.