This week my doctor found a nodule on my thyroid. She sucked some blood from my body, promised test results soon and told me to return in a week. I went in for an earache and pain when I swallowed and came out with far more than I bargained for.
On the one hand, I’m thrilled she found it because it explains the many things I’ve been blaming on old age and gives me hope that I will feel better soon and maybe I’m not so old as I thought.
On the other hand…oh crap….what if it’s cancer?
And though I’ve read the statistics and know that relatively few thyroid nodules are cancerous…and even if they are, they are very treatable….it’s still a bit of a heart-stopper.
I, like most of us, have lived my life somewhat carelessly. I eat what I want, when I want to and think, “Well, I don’t smoke…I don’t drink…so I’m doing well.” I knowingly expose my body daily to toxins, to all the things ‘they’ tell us is bad for us and I sooth my conscience by telling myself…
I’ll worry about it…if I get sick.
We all have a story…someone we know who got sick and died. Or someone we know, who got sick and lived. I’ve known people who cured themselves naturally…who’ve been given death sentences and then survived by doing little more than changing the food they put into their mouths. I’ve witnessed it…I’ve seen the miracles.
And yet I continue on as if I’m invincible. I stuff a frozen French fry into my mouth that if left on the shelf for six years would look exactly the same, and it doesn’t dawn on me as grab another handful that I’m filling my body with the very thing that is killing me.
And then…I feed it to my kids.
I may as well play Russian Roulette with my 45 and take turns pointing it at their little heads…because I’m taking the same risk. I’m killing them slowly but surely and they naively stuff their little mouths because their mommy has told them it’s okay. I have shown them…I have led them by example.
And I’ll worry about it…if they get sick.
But this nodule…it’s kind of like being sick. It’s sort of like a warning sign to make those changes now…and so I swear to change my habits. I promise myself for the zillionth time that I’m going to stop drinking those fancy sugar-laden concoctions I love so much and that I’ll never nibble another crumb of white flour again. I stare at my stocked pantry and think, “We’ll just eat this stuff until it’s gone…and then we won’t buy it anymore…” because I can’t stand the thought of waste and apparently I’d rather throw the garbage into my children than into the trash can.
And then I read and study and devour information. I scour the internet looking for some concise answer. I go to the grocery store and try to find something…anything…that is edible AND healthy and I’m puzzled by all the choices, the conflicting advice, the confusing labels. I leave with a pile of vegetables that appear to be coated in wax, which will no doubt be the death of me, and wonder where my six hundred bucks went and what the heck we’re going to have for dinner.
And I know…because I’ve met me…that I’ll end up at the general store tomorrow, buying milk and bread at twice the price because we are such creatures of habit that we’d apparently rather risk our lives eating pre-packaged, over preserved peanut butter sandwiches with a tall glass of overly processed milk…than deal with change. I know me. I’ll do better for a few days, then I’ll drift back into my carefree life…
And I’ll worry about it…if I am sick.
