Second Smile
Part 1
You might be wondering how I arrived at the name Second Smile. Urban dictionary has a few definitions, but there is one which is most accurate: “a cut across the neck.”1 You see, I myself have a scar in the middle of the front of my throat, about an inch above my collarbone and around 5 inches in length. I started calling it my second smile because it is a thin line which follows the curve of my neck and turns slightly upwards at each end, just like a smile does.
On March 2, 2020, on the cusp of the COVID-19 pandemic in the USA, I was officially diagnosed with papillary thyroid carcinoma AKA cancer. This is the first time I am publicly sharing this, but I feel ready to write about it. Cancer should not be a word for the young, or anyone for that matter. At least, that’s what I considered myself to be at the time of my diagnosis, aged 35.
I remember feeling very lightheaded and unsure of how to react. I thought about all my choices leading up to this point, and all the things I should have done differently. I cried. The doctor-in-training said to me, “It’s good you’re crying. It shows you are intelligent.” What does that even mean? Are there people who leap for joy instead? She was nice enough, maybe a little too bubbly. The way she said it made me think she thought I already knew, but I didn’t, only that the mass had the high-risk genetic mutation BRAFV600E.
When it was time to talk to the surgeon, he was making some weird analogies, like homeless people with melanoma, pancreatic cancer v.s. this, winning the war and shooting all the soldiers in the head. There was no way he could have possibly known I knew a soldier who was killed in action, one who was actually shot in the head, God rest his soul. Despite these statements being weird and misplaced, I felt that perhaps F. was showing me he was there, letting me know he’s always in the ether when I need him.
It’s a mind f*ck to think about your life in terms of a prognosis, that your life is now in the hands of this abnormal ball of cells growing inside of you that is waiting to wreak havoc on your life. The surgeon said my prognosis would be good, that this cancer is very treatable, that I can medicate to replace the thyroid. There was some discussion about removing it entirely or only half, decisions left for another day.
I’m sure that most people who find out they have cancer make a pact with themselves. Eat healthier. Get more fresh air. Exercise. Learn to love kale. Reduce stress. Start making or checking off the bucket list. I, on the other hand, went straight to Micky D’s because March = Shamrock Shakes. I paid for it Wednesday night and all day Thursday, as I suffered with an artificial dye-induced headache. But, in that moment of doom and gloom, that neon green shake was just what I needed.
Future parts coming… eventually. 🙂
#journal #cancer
https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=second%20smile