We met this afternoon with the surgeon and his team in endocrinology, which included another doctor, a resident whom Mayo permits to function as the doctor before the surgeon comes in, a medical student who is planning to be a doctor, and the surgeon’s nurse.
The surgeon was more than impressive. He has that persona about him that tells you that he knows his stuff. Here is what we now know. ● The surgeon wanted verification that the chemotherapy treatments would not prevent my healing following the surgery. After he received that verification while I was sitting in the exam room, the surgery is a go. ● There was one hiccup. I had two biopsies on my thyroid in Lexington. The pathology report from April was inconclusive and the pathology report from the biopsy in August indicated that one of the nodules is malignant. The staff at Mayo Clinic wanted their pathologists to review those slides, especially the one from the August biopsy and requested those slides to be sent to them. They wanted their pathologists to verify the cancer, the type of cancer, etc. The lab in Lexington sent the slides to Mayo, but only the slides from April, not the slides from August. Go figure. So, from the doctors’ (the surgeon and the endocrinologist) point of view, they won’t even say that I have cancer of my thyroid until after the surgery begins and they test the tissue in question. It doesn’t change a great deal other than the order in which they will do things tomorrow. Even based on the uncertainty of the results of the April biopsy, they would still remove the right side of my thyroid. ● The actual time of the surgery will be about two hours unless something changes from the pathology report that will be done while I am still in the operating room. If there is an indication that the cancer has spread to the left side, then they would remove that side, too. ● Much to my chagrin and Teresa’s elation, I will stay in the hospital overnight. ● The surgeon asked us to remain in Rochester until Friday morning to make sure that there are no complications. I am figuring that Friday morning begins at 12:01 am. ● Much to Teresa’s chagrin and my elation, the surgeon said that I could resume my normal lifestyle after about a week. Then again, he didn’t ask about my normal lifestyle. And I didn’t volunteer to tell him. ● We won’t know until about 9:30 EST the scheduled time of the surgery. As has happened more times than I want to remember in this, there was this initial troubling of my heart while we met with the surgeon. Who among us ever wants to have surgery? I was hoping that I wouldn’t have a stay in the hospital and that maybe we could head out of Dodge on Wednesday if things went well. Because the thyroid is close to the voice box, there is some risk of damaging the voice box. I don’t guess you’d believe that we ate at Texas Roadhouse, of course during the 3:30 to 5:00 reduced rate time, would you? After we got back to the motel and I started writing the blog, that sweet peace of Jesus began to return. Half of the stem cell transplant patients my age end up in the hospital for an average of six days. I should consider it a blessing that just an overnight stay is in the works for this surgery. I’m expecting there to be another troubling of my heart in the morning. I feel far more comfortable standing by one of you as you are preparing to head to surgery than I do as the patient. Yet, I know even in the uncertainty that the Presence of Jesus is not far away and that His sweet peace will return. Thanks again for reading. Writing calms my heart. So do your prayers.
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Chuck Cooper
Pastor at Daybreak Community Church Archives
November 2024
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