A June retrospective

Well, what to write about. That the year is half over and I've no idea where it went? That once the first day of summer passed, the sun sets earlier and earlier and it's all downhill from there? That everyone who tells me they read the article about my dad in the North Texas eNews, tells me they cried? That the tomatoes have about given out but we're going to try and save the plants until the fall? That Bed Bath and Beyond had the Topsy-Turvy on sale for $5 and I bought two for next year? That I absolutely love my iPad? That my thyroid and I parted company two weeks ago and I'm just now writing about it?

So, a vote was taken and three doctors overruled asymptomatic me, and I had a thyroidectomy on the 18th. I haven't seriously done hospitals in over 30 years when I last gave birth! I'm healthy! Whatever was my thyroid doing being nodular and secretive upon biopsy about whether or not it was cancerous? How dare it!

As it turned out, it was benign. Thank you, Lord. Thank you. Thank you. My parathyroids and my laryngeal nerve were saved so I don't have a lifetime of massive calcium intake and I can still sing. All in all, despite a change in morning routine with the advent of a synthroid pill per day, an excellent outcome.

And then there's the bruising. Do I bruise? each physician asked. Oh, yes. And I proved it to them by turning purple above the incision (still purple) and green/chartreuse below. Most of the lower is gone. It stretched well below my modest tank top line. I had staples in my throat for 4 days and here's where it's so interesting.

No one would ask. I could see everyone's eyes drift down to my throat. Back up. Down. Up. Only a nurse at the nursing home asked and then, let's face it, she knew. As I got out more and was minus the staples, I've watched the same up and down with my lovely purple incision. Friends of course have commented and for medical personnel, I'm a smorgasbord of inquiry. Only one stranger has asked, a clerk at a Starbuck's two days ago. I can't even remember how she phrased it, but I do know it was such that I couldn't use my prepared line: "Me? Ah, heck, you should see the other guy. Not a scratch on him!"

Thank you, Lord, that I'm fine.