It's nothing... part 3.

The last part of living with a phobia and finding a lump.

Have I finally become one in a spiritual universe? Would the sweat-soaked nightmares of me being grabbed around the throat stop now?

(Spoiler - nope, I’m the same mess as before, maybe one day. It’s still rattling in my head, but not right now.) My rational mind can’t help but put the experience down to a lack of sleep and anaesthetic. The nightmares lesson but still come as I wait for results. Anyway, the gross tube was removed in the morning by the reassuringly tall but brash surgeon, and my partner returned after heading home the night before to check on the cats (he really is the best). I’m finally released, but I feel stupid with a big black unicorn snood wrapped around me on the train in summer (it’s the only thing I had to wear.) No one needed to see the patch and horror story under it, not if they wanted to keep their lunch down anyway.

I slowly recovered - the pain and discomfort easing, even allowing me to eventually sleep in a flatter position - still, no heavy lifting of more than a kettle for two weeks was a difficult adjustment. I was wiped out more so than from any other surgery. The next hurdle, apart from not thinking about my throat (hard to do when you can feel the stitches), was to get the staples removed after a week. This was another hold-my-hand moment, and I am forever grateful to my partner for taking time off to come with me.

Even with the staples removed, it was hard for me to bathe and eventually massage the area with bio-oil and silicone. I had been told by a nurse this was the best thing to use, but looking in a mirror and touching the scar was sickening each day. Yet I was determined to ensure it would go away, and this was the sacrifice. Welcome to my hell! Yes, I washed my throat before, but now it was sensitive to the touch and harder to deal with, making me gag each time.

I waited for the results, even phoning to chase them as I wanted to know either way, but they never phoned me back other than to confirm appointments. I was in bits I needed to know, but no one wanted to tell me anything, and finally, I was back in front of my consultant. My partner sat anxiously with me waiting for the results.

‘’It’s just nodes, not cancer, you’re fine.’’ The consultant grins, clearly pleased to be delivering happy news.

I sit there for a moment, clenching my jaw. I should be relieved – it is nothing, but I’ve been through hell, and I’m still in hell, looking and touching a red scar every day and feeling it as it pinches back together.

‘’Right, so you couldn’t tell me that before?’’ Is all I manage to say.

‘’Oh, we only call if it’s something, but everything looks good, vocal cords are fine. It’s a little red but will heal in a year.’’

‘’Right, cool, I don’t have cancer!’’ I should be jumping for joy, I know my partner's tension has instantly gone, so why hasn’t mine?

Even now, It’s been months, my bloods are fine - that half a thyroid is managing on its own for now - but I feel weak, violated and still angry. I hope this feeling will pass as the scar disappears. It’s autumn now, big jumpers and scarves, but I’m still reeling with my scar. Honesty, this whole experience should have been enough to get over my problem, but sadly it’s not, and I’m still shivering thinking about it.

I’ve been lucky, really lucky, not to have anything serious, and that should be enough despite everything. I know this will be an unpleasant memory that will fade as the scar does. So please, if you find a lump, get it checked out even if you are scared, get anyone to come with you and hold your hand, say if you have a bad feeling and don’t be afraid to find the place and surgeon that you feel safer with because hopefully, it's nothing.

Thank you for reading my story.