Hey ya’ll I’m back and I wish I could say it was for good reason but unfortunately that is not the case. I, Kim Clabby, have been diagnosed with cancer AGAIN. I know I know, I must be joking right, well guys I am not, it’s true. On Wednesday, November 28th I received the call that I have papillary thyroid cancer. It was news I was expecting and clearly something I’ve heard before, but getting that phone call never gets easier. Thankfully, it’s curable and I already have surgery scheduled for this upcoming Tuesday, so I am prepared but it’s been a shitty few months and this was just the icing on the cake. I know I haven’t written in a while but I was getting back to some sort of normal and talking about cancer became really really draining. I stopped going to meetings, stopped going to therapy and of course, I stopped blogging. But like I said, I want to be transparent and open with everything going on and I want to hopefully help anyone who unfortunately gets a similar diagnosis, so I AM BACK.
So much has happened since April, I honestly can’t even remember the half of it but I am going to do my best and try and take you through my journey for the last 8 months so we can all be on the same page again. To be honest, I did miss writing and there were so many times where I felt like I had stuff I wanted to share with you all, and funny little anecdotes I wanted to write down but the second it came time to do I just mentally wasn’t there. I needed to step away from the cancer Kim, and try focus on normal Kim. I’ve realized that normal Kim & cancer Kim are the same though and I can’t separate the two and as terrible as that sounds I’m ok with it now I think. This is the hand I was dealt and I’ll beat it AGAIN.
Let’s try and go month by month. April, as you know I was given my surgery date, the date for THE BIG ONE and it made it easy because I could start counting down. It let me look forward to what I thought was going to be the end point, but come on guys, you should know the drill by now, it never is. So in May I believe I received the call that my surgery had to be pushed back another two weeks. I know, two weeks doesn’t seem like an eternity, but trust me, it is. I was so upset and I called probably every day for three weeks to see if they could move my surgery back, to no avail. My doctors all have officially merged to the Weil Cornell Hospital, and because of this, all the operating days moved around, causing mine to get canceled and ultimately rescheduled for a date two weeks later and there was nothing they could do about it. I was beyond upset, it just felt like another punch in the face and two more weeks added to my countdown until some sort of normalcy. After I realized I had to miss Newport Folk Festival for good because of my new surgery date, I accepted my fate and started to move on. May also marked the one year of my diagnosis, not sure if this is considered my cancerversary or the day I was deemed cancer-free (little did I know). It came and went with little celebration as I anxiously awaited the big day. June & the beginning of July I enjoyed as much as I could while waiting for the big day. I do remember how difficult it was to watch everyone else make plans for the end of July, August & September and not being able to partake because I didn’t know what I’d be capable of. Although that was something that would eventually dissipate it was a hard part to deal with. All my friends wanted to plan trips or parties and I kept having to respond with the “I’ll have to let you know.” I knew it was only one more shitty summer, but it was a hard pill to swallow.
July was an interesting month, I went back and forth between being so excited that the day was coming to being absolutely terrified that the day was coming. It eventually came and I walked right into the room as if I was walking in to an awards ceremony, I was ready. I ended up staying at the hospital for three nights, thankfully I knew my nurse and I was treated like a queen. This time around I didn’t get my own private room, I was with three other people but I thankfully was situated in my own private corner and didn’t have anyone on either side of me. It was a totally different world than being upstairs on the suite floor but it was what it was and as soon as they told me I could go home, I got the fuck out of there. Recovery was hard, I couldn’t stand up straight for weeks, getting out of bed was a nightmare. I had to go back in for some revisions and to get the drains removed a week later. After that surgery, recovery became easier and I eventually started being able to do some sort of normal things without help. It definitely wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, it wasn’t easy but it was bearable. I obviously milked not going back to work for all it was worth and didn’t go back until the beginning of September. Being back in a normal routine felt good, but I’ve also been having some life changing thoughts lately which is a story for another day.
Continuing along, in the middle of August I started having this terrible tooth pain which I tried to ignore for as long as I could. I have never had any real teeth issues so the pain started becoming unbearable so I went to the dentist for an emergency appointment. I went in while my dentist was away and the “dental assistant” or whoever she claimed to be told me it could maybe a dying tooth. She ended up shaving it down so I was able to chew on that side (wish she didn’t). The pain still wouldn’t go away and abscesses started forming so I ultimately ended up going to 5 different dentist who had NO idea what was going on. For almost two full months not ONE doctor could figure out what the hell was happening. They took so many x-rays, scans and examinations and I never got an answer. It was so frustrating, but it was also scary. It seemed like the thought it was something but didn’t want to be the one to say it, so they just kept passing me around. During this time, I felt a lump in my throat, and I did what I always tell you all not to do, I started googling: Mouth cancer, Gum Cancer, Throat Cancer. I scared myself so bad that I convinced my parents to take me to the ER right then and there. I called my oncologist and she agreed, I needed to go, mostly because they would be able to take a CAT scan there and ease my mind but it was a scary day. We were there for about 6 hours, I had blood work done, a CAT scan of my mouth and throat and multiple physical tests done. The doctors saw nothing, which put my mind at ease but still didn’t give me any answers. I was told that it was not an infection and there was no sign of any sort of disease and my blood work was perfect. It was the best I got in months so I decided to take it. The pain started subsiding but I was still determined to figure out what the heck was going on. I finally got passed to a specialty doctor who looked at a 3-d image of my mouth and finally determined what was going on. He said it looked like there was a bone that had chipped off and was falling off inside of my mouth. During this ordeal I remembered after one of my surgeries in July that I had a little cut inside of my mouth, right where all this pain started. I thought nothing of it because it eventually went away but now I knew what it was. When they took the breathing tube out they must have nicked the side of my mouth, ultimately breaking off a tiny piece of bone which started floating around in my gums causing all the pain. At that time, he told me I could wait and it might come out by itself or he could go in cut it open shave it down and take it out. I did NOT want any more surgery, especially in my mouth. Being awake during mouth surgery is SO stressful, during the whole process I had it done once and I was scared so I said no. I kept thinking about it and I eventually called back and they scheduled me to come in. It was so quick and easy and he showed me the bone after it was done. It wasn’t that tiny, it was pretty substantial and I really was just glad that we could close this chapter, or so I thought.
After that was over, I was scheduled by my oncologist to get my yearly PET scan done, just to confirm that the cancer hadn’t relocated anywhere else. I was a little nervous but I was confident that whatever was thrown my way I could handle. I went in for the test, waited for the results and was told that there was no sign of metastatic disease anywhere. I was ECSTATIC, cried tears of joy for several days following this call BUT Kim, come on, things are never that easy. There was a little node on the right side of my thyroid and my oncologist wanted me to go get it checked out further. I was told that since it didn’t light up during the PET scan there was a good chance it was nothing. People have nodules on their thyroids all the time and they usually end up being nothing. Hey guys, doesn’t this sound familiar. I got scheduled to go in for an ultrasound and after they read the results while I was there I was told that it was probably nothing. Then I got a call from my doctor who suggested I make an appointment with an endocrinologist just to play it safe. Those famous fucking words. I couldn’t get an appointment for a month, even though I cried on the phone like a baby to the lady scheduling the interviews. Ok, I’ll wait. While this was all happening, I got scheduled for my revisional surgery with my favorite man in the whole world, my plastic surgeon. This was the surgery where they would lipo some fat out of an area of my body and strategically place it where there were any dips or indents in my new boobs, also made of fat. Dr. Broccoli teeth suggested I take the fat from my sides, where they closed me up from the first surgery because those are always trouble areas and that’s normally where people go first. I’m sorry sir, am I normal, you are telling me I CAN GET LIPO?! You better take that shit from my legs IMMEDIATELY. To which he laughed, and said ok. Again, a short in and out procedure which happened on November 20th, not too long ago. That morning when he was marking me up, I told him he could take some extra fat out and throw it out, which he again responded with laughter. My mom at that point jumped in and said “she’s not kidding.” I wasn’t kidding and I can’t tell you guys exactly how much he took out because I’m still healing but he did say it was a substantial amount. Also remember when I complained last year about being fat, it got worse, which is something I’ll dive into shortly.
Even though it was a quick surgery, the recovery sucked. Since they took the fat out from the medial thigh, it hurt for me to even have clothes on. I was so bruised up, my chest and my legs looked like I had gotten thrown out of a 20-story building and somehow landed on my chest while straddling something. If you wanna see pictures, I will send it just ask. Of course, the only appointment my endocronoglist had was the day after my surgery. Barely out of the hospital for 10 hours, I was on my way back. Literally waddling along, covered in ace bandages from my ankles to my shoulders. Now I know why rich people take long “vacations” after they get plastic surgery. You should not be in public looking like that but I did not have a choice. We waited for what felt like forever and even with my constant cries to the front desk girl reminding her that I JUST had surgery and sitting down hurt we were stuck there. Finally they took us in and the doctor already started explaining what would happen if the node came back cancerous. If I didn’t have a hunch before, I sure did now. He took me to another room where he did another ultrasound and then took a needle biopsy. He had a pathologist come into the room and check and make sure he had enough samples, one of the needles got jammed so they couldn’t use it but instead of taking another sample my doctor told the pathologist, not to worry about it. Seems like it shouldn’t have been a big deal, but this was my big clue that it was cancer. I just felt it. Sitting there I knew my fate. I was told that the borders of the node, even though it was only .8 mm, they were undefined which is concerning. He told me if it came back cancerous there were usually too options, monitoring or removal. I didn’t even need him to finish that sentence before I decided I wanted it out of my fucking neck. Also, so many thoughts swirled through my brain, IS THIS WHY I’M FAT, ADD ANOTHER SCAR TO MY LIST. My mind was going a million miles a minute, but I knew what the outcome would be, and honestly I think I knew something was wrong the day I found the lump in my throat.
On Wednesday, November 28th I called the office probably 6 times asking if my results were in. The lady pretty much told me to stop calling and that they would call me as soon as they came in, but it probably wouldn’t be until Thursday morning. 5PM hit and I realized I wouldn’t be finding out anytime soon. So, I went and got my nails done just like any good Long Island girl. I sat there, enjoying myself, chatting with the people around me more than normal and then all of a sudden, my phone rang at 6:05PM. I KNEW what this was. I answered the phone with one hand, because if you know anything there is no way to get out of a manicure. After some niceties, the words were uttered “so your biopsy did come back as cancer.” “OK, now what?” As I’m still sitting there in the chair, asking way too many personal questions in an open space. The lady next to me HAD to know what was going on. I asked what my surgery options were, what the complications were, and even though the lady doing my nails couldn’t understand me asking for a round shape instead of a square shape, I have a funny feeling she even knew what was going on. Did I get up? OF COURSE NOT, I WAS GETTING A MANICURE. The nurse on the other end starting looking at her calendar and she told me his next appointment wasn’t until JANUARY are you for real? I told her I had to go in tomorrow anyway to meet with my plastic surgeon and she was a sweetheart and told me, she’d find a way to sneak me in so to just let her know when I got there. I hung up. UH, now what? Literally NOW what. I was sitting in the manicure chair with probably 20 minutes left of my manicure and I was just told I had cancer again. I didn’t cry, I didn’t know how I felt to be honest. I was expecting it, truthfully, deep down I somehow knew this was going to be the outcome. Knowing still didn’t make it easier to hear it come from the nurse on the other line, but it almost validated my feelings. I almost just shrugged, like “great, here we go again.” I didn’t know what to do so I just sat there, finally I started looking around and I started getting lightheaded with all my thoughts. I called my mom. “the doctor called” AND AND WHAT KIM. “not good.” I didn’t want to say it out loud because if my nail neighbors didn’t already know, I didn’t need them to hear my cry to my mother on the phone that I just got diagnosed with cancer. Again, she started freaking out so I told her to calm down but she needed to pick me up. You know what I did next? NOTHING I SAT THERE AND FINISHED GETTING MY NAILS DONE. I also ended up getting a discount because i truly think the manicurist knew. This, is my favorite part of the story. That is how used to this shit I am, I found out I had cancer and politely tipped the lady who did my nails, continued a conversation with the Massapequa Mom next to me and walked out all with a smile plastered on my face. I didn’t even really cry that night and I still feel that. I’m just ANNOYED, truly please give me a fucking break, that is how I feel.
The next day the whole Clabby clan made our way into the city. I walked in to see my plastic surgeon who is truly one of my favorite people of all times. He asked me how things were going since I saw him like 4 days ago, which is his joke, things couldn’t have changed that much. HEY DOC, you are wrong today. I told him and he didn’t even respond, he just hugged me and cried. Jesus Christ, that got me. To see a doctor ultimately feel so bad for you makes you wake up and realize that yea, this has been shit. Then I cried, but like you all know me, I stifled it away as soon as I could and made a joke. I made an appointment to come back in 3 more months where he would determine if I need any more surgery done and we walked back into the waiting room. After a while my endocrinologist wonderful nurse came out and explained to us in great detail the next steps and then snuck us in the back to speak to the doctor. I truly have the greatest doctors in the world, where else does this type of service happen. If these past few months didn’t validate my decision to move from Sloan to Weil Cornell, I don’t know what could have. He took another ultrasound to again see exactly where the node is located. After looking he determined that it is leaning towards the right side and it’s very close to the border so he recommended getting it removed as opposed to monitoring it. Ok, no problem, my thoughts anyway. They won’t be able to determine how much they will have to remove until they’re in there. They might be able to only remove the ismiss which would mean I would be left with both my right and left thyroid. There is the possibility that they will have to remove the entire right thyroid, in most cases this is fine and the left one would pick up the slack and I would not have to be on medication. After checking my TSH levels, which he noted has increased from .5 to 2.7 in less than a year, there’s a good chance I’ll be on medication regardless. People with thyroid cancer should be in the lower range and since mine increased so much in the past year there might be some malfunction going on. With this I immediately jumped into my favorite question, could this be why I’m fat? Yes, yes it could Kim. WOOOHOOOO at least there might be a reason, I’ll take it. After confirming surgery, my fairy god nurse came back in to let me know they had a huge cancellation for this upcoming Tuesday and if I wanted it, I could take the day. So ya girl is scheduled already to get this shit removed. I will be back under the knife on Tuesday and again, I’m ready to beat this shit and earn another championship title. Maybe this time next year I’ll be walking down the VS runway scars and all, a lot can happen in a year.
Xoxo, (truly) cancer girl