Sometimes I have so many thoughts and want to write eloquently about them, but get overwhelmed by all I wish to say, so I don’t write at all. Weeks will go by, and I’ll wish I had taken the time to sort through it all.

Normally I sleep like a baby on planes, but last night, even though I was completely exhausted, I couldn’t seem to rest, so I figured it was time to write.

I spend a lot of time alone these days. I have always enjoyed alone time, but I admit, it can be pretty isolating when you’re living in a new city and being alone is not chosen, but instead imparted on you. When you’re pushing through recovery, it can be overwhelming emotionally to be alone for long periods of time. You notice the details of how different your body feels, and it is an impressive mind-game not to obsess over each change.

I recently read somewhere that it is easy to look in retrospect and see how God moved in the past, but it is harder to take time to acknowledge how he’s moving now. However, I believe this has been my biggest hope and prayer over the last several months, since being diagnosed with cancer. With each day, I find myself reverting back to questions of how I see God moving in the littlest details, and I am reminded of His presence.

I feel so close to Him these days.

However, I have also realized the danger of glamorizing suffering, and downplaying it. Pain exists in the world, and it is a result of the broken world we live in. It reminds us that the world is not as it should be, and points to the need for a Redeemer.

With this in mind, I have learned the importance of calling suffering for what it is and not reverting to what Tullian Tchividjian in his book Glorious Ruin says is the “Oprah” approach—always recounting suffering only for the good that resulted.

While I agree that character is shaped and relationships can be strengthened through suffering, placing suffering in a category that states its existence is always for a greater good, is dangerous. Suffering is painful, and I pray we can approach suffering by first acknowledging that frankly, well, it hurts. This is something I have been learning.

I naturally want to showcase the good in what I am facing and sometimes forget to face these difficult situations honestly. Facing suffering head on and initially calling it for what it is, has been essential for my understanding of the world we live in and why I place my hope in Christ, the Redeemer. I am thankful for that.

I find this year I am humbled and overwhelmed by the season of Advent—the season of expectation—and Christmas. In the wake of suffering and this season of my life, the birth of Jesus, the Redeemer of all that is broken, holds a truer meaning.

While this seems to be a heavy post, I assure you that it is because I am so deeply impacted by Jesus’ presence and guidance during this season of my life. I can truly say he is walking beside me. There will come a day when pain and suffering will cease and all that is broken will be restored and made new. This is all I can think about heading into Christmas and the New Year, and it brings me great joy.

Merry Christmas, friends.

Today I learned more specifically the staging of the cancer and how radiation will progress in a couple weeks. I also had a nice conversation with my radiologist about cycling, too :). Anyway, this is what I learned today:

Stage of Cancer:

There are three categories they use to stage in thyroid cancer: (1) thyroid tumors, (2) lymph nodes and (3) metastasis (the spread of the cancer).

They were able to tell me the stage of (1) and (2), but since I only had scans and surgery on my neck, they don’t know how far it has spread to be able to mark a stage of metastasis.

(1) My tumors were papillary carcinoma–> Stage 2
(2) The expanse of the lymph nodes that were affected–> Stage 3
(3) Metastasis–> ?

Therefore, my condition is at least Stage 2 or 3, without the information of the metastasis. Because of this, my radiologist said that I will be receiving two-three times the dose of the average person receiving the same treatment.

Radiation and how it will work:

One function of the thyroid gland is to produce thyroid hormones that meet the body’s needs. In order to do this, the thyroid uses iodine. Essentially, fully functioning, the thyroid is the iodine center for the body. Now that I do not have a thyroid, the goal is to find all remaining thyroid tissue in my body that could have metastasized from the cancer. How? By killing any tissue containing iodine.

I will be doing “radioactive iodine ablation” treatment (RIA)–also called I-131 treatment. As many of you have read, I have been on a strict low-iodine diet for almost a week and will be until radiation. This is to starve my body of iodine so that the treatment is more successful and targets the potential cancerous tissue. I will be taking a pill of radioactive iodine, and the hope is to kill all remaining cancer.

What treatment looks like:

October 11: I will get my blood drawn to see if my levels are where they need to be to start treatment.
October 17: I will start the radiation. I will go to the hospital, they’ll give me a pill, and I’ll stay there for an hour or so to make sure I don’t have any serious reaction.
Then, I will be quarantined for 8 days. During this time I will be confined to a bedroom and bathroom that no one else can use. I have to use separate plates and utensils and wash them separate from other household items.
October 21: On the fifth day of being quarantined, I get to start my new thyroid medication and EAT NORMAL FOOD AGAIN! 😀

Follow up:

When I’m out of quarantine, I will get a full body scan to see what thyroid tissue activity is left in my body. Then, in six months, I will have another scan to see if I need a second treatment.

“The house of religious cards ‘that glory built’ collapses when we inevitably encounter unforeseen pain and suffering. When the economy tanks and you lose your job…When the waters rise and the levee breaks…[when you’re diagnosed with cancer]… Suddenly, the mask comes off, and the glory road reaches a dead end. We come to the end of ourselves, in other words, to our ruin, to our knees, to the place where if we are to find any help or comfort, it must come from somewhere outside of us. Much to our surprise, this is the precise place where the good news of the gospel–that God did for you what you couldn’t do for yourself–finally makes sense. It finally sounds good!”

Tullian Tchividjian, Glorious Ruin.