Just for the record, #fuckcancer

It’s been an exhausting few months so let me try and bring all you folks up to speed.

After the pulmonary embolism and mini-strokes back in November, I’ve been slowly recovering. The brain is a marvelous tool (go ahead, make the joke) and I have been relearning many things as well as reconnecting neurons damaged by the little brain-bastards.

One of the things that happened during that whole emergency room/ICU scene was I had a PET scan for possible cancer (originally the doctors thought I had a mass in my right lung which they were sure was cancer and were equally sure that’s what had caused all my problems).

They were wrong. The “mass” was just a blood clot that was reabsorbed by the body.

However, my thyroid lit up during the scan.

Since this was the least of my problems at the time, this little factoid was put on the shelf temporarily.

I’d made enough progress to have the anomaly finally looked at—turned out to be a 1.7 cm carcinoma embedded in the thyroid. I spoke to an endocrine expert and a thyroid surgeon and we all agreed that the mass couldn’t just be removed—the entire thyroid should come out to be on the safe side.

This past Friday, I had that done. Too bad I couldn’t collect frequent flyer miles for my hospital stays.

Although I’ll be on a synthetic thyroid hormone the rest of my life, the good news is it looks like they got everything…AND the lymph nodes in the area were clear.

The support I’ve gotten from everyone has been overwhelming. From kind words, notes, and cards from friends and family (not to mention a small GoFundMe campaign that was successful in every way—thank you all again) —to the most amazing care I’ve received by the dozen or so doctors working my case.

So why am I telling you all this? Because, honestly, I feel amazingly blessed. The love of an amazing woman (yes, wife….that’s YOU), the prayers, the notes of support, the comedy. They all added (and continue to add) to my recovery.

I survived. I expect to thrive. After all, it took four separate cancers to take my dad down a few weeks ago and he was nearly 90. I think he would be disappointed if I checked out early.

I’m recovering. I have things to do. Life has complete new meaning for me—probably the meaning it should have had all a long.

Better late than never.

Love to you all,

RB