During a routine physical on Monday, my internist, Dr. H, dragged me over to the full-length mirror in the exam room. "Can you see it?" she demanded.
I mumbled, "Yes," although the only thing I really saw was the big red mark she left on my neck from her examination of my thyroid.
Which is how I found myself immediately after my physical at a diagnostic imaging center having a thyroid ultrasound. Fortunately that didn't involve drinking gallons of water and "holding it," as I had to do for ultrasounds during my pregnancy. Unfortunately, after holding my head back for 35 minutes in a position that would fully expose my thyroid for the ultrasound, I had a stiff neck.
Dr. H, who's only a few years out of med school and needs some practice in giving patients potentially bad news, called yesterday with the test results. There are four growths on my thyroid, one of them "pretty big." So next up on my calendar of things to look forward to (right behind that trip to Paris in the fall) is a needle biopsy of the cells that have invaded my thyroid.
If you had asked me just a week ago to point out my thyroid, it would have like asking me to point out the exact spot of Morocco on a map of Africa. I know it's on the continent's north coast, and then I get a little fuzzy. But I can guarantee that after that needle biopsy, I'll know exactly where my thyroid is.
1 comment:
My thyroid was biopsied when I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism in the mid-1980s. (Initial diagnosis: Hashimotos Thyroiditis--doesn't that sound special?) Thyroid disease is very treatable. Afterward, I did wonder in a cartoon-sort-of-way, if drinking anything would result in the liquid spurting out of the crescent of needle marks on my neck.
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