note: it's been a little hectic around here abouts as our life returns to normal. These are my thoughts while I was away. I couldn't post because I don't post from work computers as they leave record of work's prescence in your code and this is not a good thing. I might eventually post the survey meter movie, if I can edit it down a little.

Isolation (written on 011810

50uM/L =50nmol/ml=50pmol/ul, if I want 600pmol from a solution that is 50uM, then I need 12 ul!!!

Gosh darn it, I knew a gained something in all that science training. I can calculate stuff...

I'm back at work, doing science stuff. It's starting pretty slowly. I'm taking my time. I fear my heart just isn't in it anymore, but I'm trying.

I'm not back home yet. I'm staying in a nice hotel, sleeping-in in a way too cushy bed. I miss my guys something awful.

I sort of feel like someone, a very large someone, has taken me by my ankles and given me a good long, hard shaking. I can't say I'm really hurt by the experience, maybe a little sore, but mostly I'm just jarred.

The whole last 9 months since all this medical crazy began has been really hard on me emotionally. That coupled to the winding down of my scientific career, has my self-esteem (which has always been an ephemeral thing) just crumpling. I have to rebuild. I know that, but I'm scared I can't, and I don't know where to begin.

I shouldn't be putting this out there, so openly for all to see, but I am. It's part of the story, an important part of how this has affected me, and if someone stumbles into this and it helps them know they aren't alone, well than I guess that's a good thing. And if a potentially employer one day stumbles into it, Is it really that damning, you know that I'm a normal person?????

Maybe I will get to the whole life-affirming part of the experience. You know the part where you feel lucky you have defeated death type thing, but somehow I don't think that's how my brain works.

Change of Plans

(sometimes I wish I could hide in a closet)

I just came back from my pre-scan, and found out they need to split up my dose over 8 months, because there is just too much tissue left from the surgery. It wouldn't be safe to do it in one shot.

This means the first dose is less radiation and is done outpatient, next week. Meaning I'm staying in a hotel for two extra days. I won't be in isolation, but I am supposed to keep a low profile next week. I haven't decided whether I'm coming in to work or what I'm going to do.

The upside is that I can keep my knitting. Although I might keep it in a box in my basement for 6 months to cool off. I will probably be more comfortable in a hotel than the hospital, but I will be on my own.

The bad news is in 8 months I get to repeat this whole damn process. I think with a little more radioactivity and a hospital stay this time. 8 extra months to pine for another child, and wonder what ‘s it going to be next time to put off my plans for another year or more. (Can we say still too much remnant left?)

I don't mean to be so flippant about all this. I know this is cancer. I know for safety reasons, they don't have a choice about this. They can't risk frying my bone marrow. I know from reading other peoples blogs, there are people out there, some of whom are younger than me, who are facing a much tougher fight from a similar type of cancer. But I just wanted to be done so I could move on.

My radioactive knitting challenge is "Swallowtail shawl", knit is some yarn that I got from Elann for an entirely different project. I figure being away from my 2 year-old for a week is a good time to knit me some lace, which requires more concentration, and is more fragile than most of what I do. It's a small shawl so I might be able to finish it in a week too. Or I may be simply underestimating it.

Uh…hmmm..So can we start the new year in September 2010?

Unfinished business of 2009

We, here at "The Hippo and Snuffles Show" regret to inform you that the new year will be postponed until February 1, 2010. This is because we first must finish the 2009 cancer business before declaring shenanigans and starting anew. And we would like desperately to declare out with the old, but there's just this last little thing a need to do before I can say that: take around 125mCurie of I-131 , you know just to make sure we've gotten all the cancer cells or potential cancer cells that the surgeon may have left behind. The goal is to have no thyroid cells (cancerous or not) left.

This all goes down next week. I've been prepared, withdrawn from thyroid hormone, eating a low iodine diet, which basically means ones prepared entirely by me so to be sure nobody sneaks some iodized salt in there somewhere. This has meant a lot of salads and a lot of cooking. I even tried to make fresh bread with yeast, but it was too cold in our kitchen to get a good rise out of the yeast so the bread was a little dense. So far I'm tolerating the hormone withdrawal pretty well, a little tired, but not so tired I can't cook or function. I'm a little distracted, but I suspect this has more to do with anxiety than anything else.

So next week I go to the hospital to take the therapeutic dose, and get isolated for two days, then spend the rest of the week at a hotel, so as not to expose our 2-year old to the radioactivity, so he won't get thyroid cancer (ironic, huh?). It will be hard being away from my boys at a time when I am so emotionally vulnerable, but I don't see any other way to handle it. I can't just simple stay three feet away from a toddler for a week. Like all this crap, it is just something to be endured and lived through. And soon I will be back.

The stupid thing that makes me a little sad, is that I really wanted to be pregnant right now. I wanted to be finishing my post-doc with the next baby started. I'm a little sad and bitter about the baby I won't be having right now. It's been hard facing the mom's at daycare who are now expecting their second child (6 of the boy's classmates, out of a group around 15). It's been hard to smile and not tear up. In fact I have teared up a couple of times. I keep trying to remind myself, that I still have plenty of biological time, and that sometimes these things that seem like a bad thing on the surface, sometimes they turn out for the best in the grand scheme of things. But it's kind of hard to see that this is only a little set back. 6 months to 1 year after this procedure I can start trying and maybe the timing will be more fortuitous than I can know now. But this is the thing that thyroid cancer and its treatment have taken from me, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who has faced this kind of thing, being that this disease is commonly diagnosed in women my age.

To sum-up, 2009 was a tough year. A lot of great moments, but a lot of difficult ones to. Looking forward to 2010 !which by special decree starts in February this year!