LHM Acknowledges: Who I'm Thankful For

     Happy belated Thanksgiving and impending Christmas, folks. I hope that everyone was able to see those that they love and stuff their faces.

     If you are on facebook, you know that a lot of people have taken part in this "30 days of gratitude". I myself have posted a few things, but skipped a lot of days. I really enjoy it. I love seeing what everyone is thankful for every day. It makes the little things come to light and I wish people would do it all year long. It's also got me thinking about the one thing I am more grateful for than anything else: my family.

    In particular, one event which happened in my family in 2008 that really showed me the love my family had for me and the strength that we possessed. I am going to tell this story now. It's lengthy, but it's beautiful, and for reasons of fear and compassion, I remember every single detail. None of this is filler. This is all vivid in my memory.

     In February of 2008, I went into the doctor to get a lump in my throat checked out. I had felt it in my throat for over a year, and thought it was about time I saw what was up. Really never thought it was a big deal, in fact I had even joked about it being a tumor with some of my siblings (I know tumor's and cancer aren't funny, but humor is a coping mechanism when you're hiding a bit of fear). My wonderful doctor ordered some tests, I went and got them done, and sort of forgot about it over the next couple days.

     I believe it was a Wednesday when I woke up around 11:30 and quickly went upstairs, wondering why on earth my mother let me sleep so late. I found my mom and dad sitting at the kitchen table together with lunch and a plate for me. Well, this was off....my parents didn't make lunch together. What is happening here? Not that my parents aren't thoughtful enough to make me food, but gosh I was sleeping, and it just all didn't make much sense. I knew something was up. I don't think I asked, just sat down and started eating.

     My dad was actually the first to tell me what was going on, which was also strange because my mom was really the one who knew all this medical stuff and my dad would usually be just uncomfortable with it. I now know that my mom was terrified and it was probably for the best that my dad spoke- my mother would have started crying and really scared me, and it was already scary enough, the sight of them at the table together (no offense mom and dad). My dad says, "The doctor called back, and he needs you to go get some more tests done."

     Huh?

     I asked him why, but I think I directed it towards my mom, who I remember was just sitting there in an odd way, the fact that she wasn't talking made me nervous so I think I was trying to get her to say something. She responded, "the tests said that it was indicative of neoplasm." Okay mom, I'm 18 years old. What on earth does that even mean? When I asked, she just said, "it means that it is a tumor and they need to find out if it's cancer."

     Unless you have ever heard the word cancer applied to yourself, you just can't understand the feeling. It's the only word you hear. As my mom and dad began to explain to me, "But Lizzy, thyroid cancer is not necessarily terminal." "If you have to get cancer, this is the one you want." "You're gonna be fine." "They're not even sure yet." They might as well have grown stethoscopes from their ears and been holding diplomas and saying, "cancer. cancer. cancer." Meaning that to me, my parents knew everything and they were telling me that I had a tumor and I might have cancer.

     Within the next 24 hours, all of my sisters and brothers showed up at my house, including my brother in laws and my sister in law.   This is quite a feat considering two lived in the country 90 miles away, two lived downtown, and everyone had jobs and some had multiple children. But they were all there and vowed to go to the surgeons office with me. All 8 of them plus my parents! And they did. They were all in the waiting room with me, only just to find out if I was going to have to get it removed and exactly what kind of tests were to be ordered. I think the staff thought we were nuts, but I didn't care. I had my mom, my dad, my six sisters, my four brothers, and my oldest niece with me. My thirteen best friends. And no matter how crazy people thought we were, they weren't going anywhere.

     At the appointment, I was told that I would need an ultrasound and a biopsy, but no matter the outcome, it would need to be removed. The surgeon explained thyroid cancer to me. He told me that it was a cancer that would most likely not be fatal. However, he also told me a story of a colleague of his who left his untreated, and died from it. I remember my dad's face. I had never seen him scared before, and it killed me. I walked out of the office like a zombie, and I saw all these eyes on me, terrified and concerned, and I just burst into tears. They didn't even say anything, they just swarmed me like geese, only without pecking my eyes out. They hugged me and they all cried, too. Even though this was an "easy cancer" and we didn't even know for sure, they knew I was scared, and it scared them, too.

     The next week was a complete blur. I laughed my way through the ultrasound, while my mom cried. My ultrasound tech's name was Elizabeth, and I remember asking her if she thought the name "Elizabeth" was as hard to sign as I did. She agreed with me. I always have a hard time signing my name. At one point my mom just whispered, "why is that thing in my daughter's body?" And I found it hard to laugh after that. My family seemed to be more on edge than I was. I joked about it a lot, and when they did the biopsy, I told my mom that it tickled. I know now that it is impossible to lie to a nurse, and especially one like my mom, who knows everything.

     As we waited on the results, my mom was talking about how if it was a malignant (cancerous) tumor, they would have to remove it immediately. If not, then I would have time to go get tested for a platelet disorder that runs in my family that causes hemorrhaging during surgery. I remember thinking, "Great. So, if I have cancer, as if that wouldn't be bad enough, I have to get it cut out right away and I might bleed to death. And if I don't have cancer, I have to wait to get it cut out of me, and pretend even longer that this is one big joke and that I'm not terrified of having my throat cut open."

     Then my mom got the phone call, and she started jumping up and down, ecstatic. "Lizzy, it's benign. It's benign! You don't have cancer! You're gonna be okay!" I can't explain to you that feeling. It's like someone putting your life back in place, telling you that everything you ever wanted was again, possible. That life was fine, instead of horrible, instead of complicated, instead of terrifying. Then she said, "Now I'm gonna call the surgeon and reschedule your surgery so that we can get you tested for the blood disorder." And I burst into tears and that whole layer of armor and fearlessness melted away. My mom stood there and asked me what I could possibly be crying about, and in the middle of the hospital, I sobbed and I told her.

     "Mom, I don't have cancer so what? They told me that either way it didn't matter, I had to get this thing in my throat cut out of me. I have to have my throat slit open. I have to get put to sleep and trust these doctors to not cut me too deep and cut my throat and kill me. I can't pretend I'm not scared anymore. I'm terrified, and I just want this over with." My mom just hugged me and told me that it would be over. Very soon, and with better results than I had imagined.

     After that, I had to go to the Cancer Center for the blood tests. While I was getting my fourth vial of blood drawn, I saw a flyer for donating blood, and mentioned that I can't wait to donate blood again, since I couldn't at the time because I had just gotten a tattoo. The nurse looked at me sympathetically and said, "well, you can't donate blood anymore." I asked her why, and she said, "well, why are you here?" I realized at that moment that if I had had cancer, it would have changed a lot more than I realized, and I was eternally grateful. To the nurse, who was completely out of line and about to get a mouthful from my sister Mel if I hadn't stopped her, I just said, "I'm here because i don't have cancer. And if and when I want to donate blood, I'm sure a lot of people would be happy to have it." And then, we skedaddled. 

     A few days later, on the eve of my surgery, my family was there again, as well as my two best friends, Amy and Kenny.  They played board games with me,  they danced and listened to me play guitar, they did whatever they needed to do to get my mind off of it. In the morning, they all woke up at 4:30 so that they could be with me while I got ready to be there at six. I sat on the couch the majority of the time, and I remember telling my brother that I really felt like I was going to die. I was that scared, that I was convinced that I would never wake up after they put me out.

    At six AM, all of us were there in the waiting room of the surgery center at the hospital. When they brought me back to get my IV and wait, they told me I could only have two people in the room at a time. First I had my parents, and when the nurse went out to get the next two people to tell them they could come back, she saw how many people were there and made an exception, allowing more and more people to join me. It helped, considering there was a four hour delay for my surgery. The nurses  kept commenting about how well behaved and patient I was, when really, I was just too scared to let them put me under. I wanted it to be over, but I was terrified.

     Eventually, they came, and the next thing I remember is waking up itchy and blind (no glasses) and wanting my mom, as well as feeling completely grateful for life, and being alive. I laughed and smiled the whole cart ride to my room. It was over. I had a horrible, nasty gash across my neck, I had to spend the night in the hospital, I had cried a lot of tears, but I was alive, and that was the only thing I cared about.

    The moral of all of this is that the only thing that matters is family. Maybe they aren't blood, maybe you picked them up on the side of the road, maybe you met them yesterday, but when you feel that they're family, that's what they are. They won't let you go through anything alone. They cry when you cry, and when you're scared, they're more scared. No matter what terrible things happen that come between you and them, they're still standing on the other side for when that goes away.

     So to my family as a whole, I want to thank you for making that a memory that I no longer look back on as scary. I look back on it as a time when my families unrelenting love made me strong. I want to thank you for telling me you'd shave your heads if I had to lose my hair. I want to thank you for being more scared than I was so that I got to be the fearless one. And I have a message for each of you individually, because you all helped me in your own way.

Julie - Thank you for your worried face. I never doubted that you loved me one second because every time a new piece of scary news emerged, your eyes got wide and you looked at me like you couldn't bear the thought of losing me. I also want to thank you for letting me read to you from my rock encyclopedia when I didn't want to talk about tumors or blood work. You may not have cared much about the Doobie Brothers or how country has roots in rock and roll, but you pretended, and it distracted me and made me feel like I was something other than a victim. Thank you. I love you.

Kevin - Thank you for coming to my house after you got off work instead of going home to your kids. You changed a lot of your life to be able to come over and watch funny movies and laugh with me and it meant more than you will ever know to know how much you were there for me and keep my mind away from it all. Thank you. I love you.

Niki - Thank you for bringing me get well cards from your kids. Thank you for your constant comments and telling me how badly you wished it was you in that position. I always believed that you meant that but I am so glad that it was not you. Thank you for telling me that you felt the same way before your heart surgery, that you felt you would never wake up either, but that you were completely confident that I would. Thanks for pulling teeth to get sitters for your kids and spending so much gas money to come out constantly. Thank you. I love you.

Rich - After my surgery, you called me and I was so messed up on the drugs that I thought you were someone else the whole time. When you eventually told me who you were, I kept apologizing and you said, "it's okay, you're still my favorite sister in law, even without half a thyroid." And then you told me you still thought I was beautiful even with a gash on my throat. Thanks also for letting Niki come out so much and being so patient. Thank you. I love you.

Kelly -Thank you for being one of the only ones who didn't get angry with me when I would lash out and be angry. You always just smiled and let me bitch at you until I could be happy again. Thank you for spending your last ten dollars on train tickets to be with me. Thank you for sitting in my room with me and telling me that it should have been you, even though you were wrong. You also constantly found "reinforcements" to help me get my mind off of it, no matter what you had to do, you made sure I was thinking of something else. Thank you. I love you.

Melrose - Thank you for finding me the best doctors and going with me to my appointment for my bloodwork in the city. Thank you for thinking of me even when you were at work, and passing around cards for your co-workers to sign. You had to get three cards! (I still have them). You also stayed home from work a day or two to be with me. For someone with such an important job, that's a lot. You are one of the most thoughtful people ever, buying me sweet little gifts and always making sure I was comfortable. Thank you. I love you.

Brian-  Thank you for the beautiful flowers you sent me, with the card that said, "Get better so you can continue showing off your many talents." That was one of the coolest messages I have ever gotten. It made me feel hopeful and good about myself at a time when previously I had felt neither of those things. You also were one of the only ones who didn't talk to me all sympathetically, rather you spoke to me the same way you always had, and it made me feel better constantly. Thank you. I love you.

Tony - Thank you for showing me at that time just how lost you would be without me. I remember you coming into my room after we found out that it was a tumor, and sitting on my bed and crying. You kept apologizing that you had made fun of me for the previous year, telling me that I had a tumor and joking around about it, when it turned out to be just that. You kept telling me that you loved me so much and you never realized how much I meant to you until you thought that you could potentially lose me. And you have always treated me awesome ever since. Thank you. I love you.

Mandy - Thank you for not eating after 6 PM with me the night before my surgery. I had to quit eating 12 hours prior, and you were the only one who did that with me. We were playing a game and I remember there were chips and dip in the middle of all of us and it was torture! But you stuck it out. Thanks for always having a kind and understanding tone and rearranging your life to do whatever you could for me. That's more than a sister in law would generally do and that's why I consider you my sister, knock off that in law stuff. Thank you. I love you.

Rosie - Thank you for the beautiful art you made me when I was in the hospital. I also remember you wanting to spend the night in the hospital with me but mom wouldn't let you. I have never seen anyone disappointed to NOT get to sleep in an uncomfortable hospital chair. That was sweet of you. Thank you for keeping humor in my life at that time, and just like Kelly, looking for "reinforcements" for me. In true Rosie Fashion, I remember you saying, "it's like....crazy, I mean, you have a TUMOR. A TUMOR LIZZY." But instead of being scary to hear, you actually made it pretty funny. Thank you. I love you.

Joey -  You were so young at the time, and the innocence and the terror in your eyes when you were told what was happening really made me realize how much you looked up to me then. I remember hearing you talk about it to your friends, and how scared you were. You also had your friends give me get well cards, and for a thirteen year old kid, that was pretty sweet and impressive. No matter what you think of me now, I am happy you are in my life. Thank you. I love you.

Valerie - Thank you for spending the night in the hospital with me and dealing with my criminally insane and schizophrenic ninety year old roommate. You scare easily, and normally you would have been running for the hills with that nonsense (although it sure made for some laughs later on). You INSISTED that your mother let you stay. It meant so much to me to have YOU there because you were the one who was my friend through it all, not just family. You always wished you could take my pain away and put it on yourself. Thank you. I love you.

Dad - Thank you for being my dad through it all. You made yourself 100% available to me 24/7, stayed the night at my house and let me sit around and sulk while you made me food, cleaned up after me, and pretended to be my personal assistant. I know you were scared but you tried not to show it. I saw the fear but I know you tried hard to hide it. You were never one to show your emotions through words but you told me a million times how you felt through that time, how you would do anything to keep me happy and healthy and you were always genuine. I felt how much you loved me every second of that time in my life. You are the best dad a girl could have. Thank you for spending what little money you had to buy me a couple stuffed animals to remind me of when I was a little girl and you bought me millions. It helped me more than you could possibly ever know. Thank you. I love you. 

Mom - Thank you for being my strength, my hope, and my rock through the whole thing. You googled, you made the phone calls, you stayed up all night. You took any amount of extra stress that I could have possibly had and you made sure that it all fell upon you, all the while pretending like it was nothing, and that you weren't shaking in your scrubs. Now that I have a child, I cannot possibly imagine the fear of hearing the word cancer in correlation with him, and you proved that a mother's love withstands any kind of fear you could possibly have. You missed so much work, you spent so much money, you bought me gifts, you let me cry, you went to every appointment, you found me a new "sammy" doll, you never left my side. I know what you're going to say to that, and it's "that's not something to thank me for, that's what a mother does." but that's only half correct. It is what a mother does, but it's something to thank you for because not everybody is as lucky as I am to have a mother who knows everything, not just from the books, but from the heart too, and knows how to treat one of her eight children like her only child in their time of need. Thank you for dealing with the mess I made of my life when I developed the post traumatic stress from the scare. You have no idea, not one bit, how much you meant to me at that time and how much I will always be thankful for it. Thank you. I love you.




Merry Christmas, everyone. Hug your family tight this year and every year. You have no idea when something like this could happen to you, or something worse could happen. You just don't know. Enjoy the people you love. They will be the ones who are there for you when you need them the most. Goodnight all.

LHM.