I Have Thyroid Cancer

I’m 38, a wife to an amazing guy, and mama to a six-year-old wild child. I love being

creative, taking photographs, talking about my faith, going on road trips, and laughing a lot. I also have thyroid cancer.

I have a large scar from a total thyroidectomy that occurred on September 9, 2025, which
means my thyroid and 44 lymph nodes were removed after the cancer had metastasized to
about five of those lymph nodes. The scar runs from the bottom of the back of my right ear
to just past the center of my neck. There is a lot of numbness that runs from my chin to the
bottom part of my ear to parts of my neck. The doctor said the results from nerve damage
won’t really be known until about nine months from now.

I have limited neck movement, and there is a ton of pressure in my neck, along with a bit of

throbbing pain on that right side of my head, but I’m told that will all show improvement with time. Patience, time — it’s not my favorite thing. But waiting is what I will do because
healing is what I want to do. Recovery time is what the doctor calls it. There are small
improvements every day, and I’m grateful for that. Small, but it’s something. Right?

It’s only been a week (writing this on September 18, 2025) since I’ve been out of the
hospital after a three-day, two-night stay. Almost sounds like a mini vacation that I won?
Wrong. A catheter and three daily blood draws really can’t be romanticized. I can do this,
though. I can be patient. I can wait while I heal.

I have to say, my nursing crew at Washington Regional Medical Center was by far the best
I’ve ever had — especially a nurse named Roman. After a rough scene at 2 a.m., when I
got sick from the mix of anesthesia and pain medication, Roman really took care of me and
made sure I was okay.

Hopefully, the surgery removed the cancer, but that’s not certain. There could still be cancer cells lingering in my body. So next, after some more healing, I’ll undergo radioactive iodine therapy to hopefully blast out any disease that remains.

It all began back in March 2025 when a lump appeared on the right side of my neck. It took
me nearly another four months to take the lump seriously. Google said it could be cancer,
but that’s Google, it says everything is cancer. This time, though, Google turned out to be
right. And now that lump is gone, along with the other lymph nodes and that rotten thyroid.

On August 6, 2025, I received the breaking news I never wanted to hear: I had thyroid
cancer. The official diagnosis is Papillary thyroid carcinom. The news came after a month of
tests, biopsies, CT scans, and some very difficult moments.

After my diagnosis, I thought about giving my cancer battle an aesthetic. Since the thyroid is shaped like a butterfly, I considered making butterflies my theme. But that idea didn’t last
long. At the end of the day, I don’t need a theme, I just want to survive this. I just want to get better.

So, what can the next few years look like for me? After radiation is successful, scans every

six months for the next five years, and then annually after that. The bad thing about my
cancer is that it can pop up again in 15 to 20 years. I didn’t like hearing that, but it’s
something I’m facing.

And I’m facing this head-on — sometimes with tears streaming down my face and some
anger — but I’m going to do it. The scar on my neck reminds me I already am.
I also recently started therapy. Between the diagnosis, hospital stay, and the fear it could
return, it’s a lot to carry. The scar on my neck has changed how I see myself, leaving me
feeling disconnected from my own body, like my mind and body are still trying to come back together. It’s not just physical but emotional — living with the reality of being a cancer
patient is heavy.

But I have a life to live. A husband to go on adventures with. A little girl who is just starting
kindergarten. I have a good life, and I don’t want to let cancer stop me from living. And I
won’t.

To the people who have truly shown up during this difficult time — thank you. Whether you

donated, cooked a meal, watched my wild child, prayed, or simply listened to me vent or cry
(sometimes both at once), you’ve reminded me how deeply I’m loved and supported. This
journey has been lighter because of you — my doctor, my friends, my family, and everyone
who has made me smile along the way. “Thank you” will never be enough.

September is Thyroid Cancer Awareness Month. I find it a little ironic that this is also the
month I had my thyroid removed. Life is humorous that way. This month will forever be an
awareness month, but it will also mark an anniversary I will always remember — saying
goodbye to my thyroid.

I never realized how much thyroid cancer affected women and men until I was first
diagnosed. I’ve heard so many stories since then: “My aunt had it, my friend’s cousin,
someone from church, so-and-so.” I’m sure there’s someone you know who has been
affected by thyroid cancer.

A lot of people say thyroid cancer is the “good cancer” if you have to get one, but trust me
— no cancer is good. Cancer sucks. If your friend is diagnosed, if they’re in the middle of
treatment, or if they’ve already fought their way through, be there for them. Listen to their
story. Life is scary enough. Be kind, especially to those facing cancer, because everything
changes the moment you hear that diagnosis.

Also, just a small reminder: please don’t tell them stories about someone who died from
cancer. Those stories are not helpful. Keep them to yourself.

So, happy Thyroid Cancer Awareness Month. For me, it all started with what I thought was

just a random swollen spot on the right side of my neck. I didn’t realize it was a lymph node,
so I ignored it for nearly four months. When I finally went to the doctor in June, it set off a
whirlwind of scans and biopsies that, by August, led to a diagnosis that changed my life
forever.

So here’s your friendly nudge — pay attention, don’t put things off, and take care of
yourself.