Category Archives: recurrent thyroid cancer

The Unexpected Journey of a Blogging Mommy

I’ve been so very thankful for the love and compassion
 shown by my readers during the past year. 

Your prayers and your comments have upheld me
during a very hard time in my life.
When I first started blogging,
I intended to be a “mommy blogger”  and share
whatever the Lord brought into my mommy moments.
I envisioned sharing spiritual lessons,
recipes, housekeeping tips, crafts, and funny stories about my kids.


Instead, I became a “cancer blogger” as I

typed  my way through my second and third round of thyroid cancer.


Then, I became a

“I’m trying to keep an Innocent Man from going to jail blogger.”

When five friends were called home to Jesus in less than a year,
I became a “grieving blogger.”


When my  pain was so great and my anguish raw,
I wondered if I would turn people away from my words seared with suffering.
I wondered if I should quit writing.

Instead, the Lord opened up doors to hearts.

At times, the Lord lifts my burden.
Just when I need it most,
someone comments or sends an email
voicing their appreciation for my words of pain
and words of encouragement.

Other times, He allows me to help carry burdens of others.

I’ve learned  many, many, many people are suffering
and they’ve cried with me and shared their stories with me.
They grieve for my pain and for theirs,
but through the journey,
we’ve upheld one another.
We have been blessed in the fellowship of suffering.


When I first started blogging,
I intended to be a “mommy blogger” and share
whatever the Lord brought into my mommy moments.

Since these are the things the Lord  brought into my moments,
so this is what I write, because

Moment by moment I’m kept in His love;
Moment by moment I’ve life from above;
Looking to Jesus till glory doth shine;
Moment by moment, O Lord, I am Thine.

My Life Has No Wordly Value

I was determined to clean out a junk drawer stuffed with paperwork.
Stuff I’d put off for years.
Really, years.
I’m embarrassed to say there were 
unsent wedding and graduation cards,
lists I’d never accomplished,
papers to be filed,
and things procrastinated into irrelevance.
Only one paper didn’t nag me about
my inability to get stuff done.
It nagged me about something in my life
that’s way beyond my control.
It can’t be changed with organization,
diligence or
determination.
(click to enlarge)
Please understand, this isn’t a slam to the company,
they’re doing their job asa business that needs to make money,
I’m just not a good ROI (return on investment).
They provide good service and do the best they can for their customers.
Getting turned down for life insurance was another reminder
of something I have to wake up to every day~
I have cancer,
and I will never be the same again.
My doctors have assured me repeatedly that
I won’t die from the cancer,
I will die with it.
But carrying the cancer burden on my back for the
rest of the journey can be a little wearing.
To  my insurance company,
 I’m not worth investing in because I’m damaged goods.
It’s the punch-in-the-gut reality for many that suffer chronic illness.
I’m so thankful the insurance company isn’t determining my value
at the end of my life, the Lord Jesus takes on that job.
In the end I will stand before the Man
whose love for me written is in the palms of His hands,
where believers deeds are judged by fire and rewarded.
The flames of suffering on earth
should be preparing us for the flames of judgement.
Sounds harsh?
It isn’t.
Do you think an Olympic gold medalist
earned that reward with a comfortable, self-indulging life?
Trials come to all on earth,
saved and unsaved.
The only difference is that after life on earth,
believers go home to Heaven and be in the presence of the Lord Jesus.
In addition, we get rewarded for our service on earth.
Unbelievers spend the rest of their eternity in torment,
apart from Christ,  with no rewards.
That should give us a little better mindset to face our trials.
Since I’ve been given the fiery trial of cancer on earth,
I don’t want the testing fire to reveal wood, hay and stubble.
I want a huge payoff of gold, silver and precious stones,
bigger than the value assigned by my insurance company.
Although He wore a crown of thorns,
He offers glorious crowns for His people.
I’m working for the crown of life for loving Him.
I’d also like the crown of righteousness for loving His appearing
When the flames of trials are lapping at my heels,
and the world has devalued me because of my  suffering
I remind myself, that someday,
I’ll be rewarded for my cancer,
if I remain faithful.
Sounds like a great ROI to me.

Six Month Cancer Check-Up

For new readers or readers who have forgotten the details
of my thyroid cancer journey,
(that’s OK, it’s been over 7 years,
my own family has a hard time keeping track of the details)
I’ll give a brief history.
(according to Wikipedia, this is what papillary thyroid cancer looks like)
Living with cancer isn’t quiet as pretty.
June 2005 thyroid and lymph nodes removed
August 2005 Radio-active iodine treatment
April 2009 surgery to remove two more tumors
May 2009 three tumors grew back,
RAI and surgery no longer an option,
increased thyroid medication to fight cancer.
I’ve been HYPERthyroid for awhile.
Doctors often use the line,
“Thyroid cancer is the BEST cancer to have.”
Some days I don’t believe it.
However, after losing three friends to cancer in the past year,
I started to believe it.
The faith is seasoned with Survivor’s Guilt,
but I now believe it.
I’ve been told I will never be cured,
that I won’t die from my cancer,
I will die with it.
Which means, apart from a miracle,
my sure cure will be death.
It makes me so thankful I believe in the Lord Jesus Christ!
For those of you who also suffer in your earthly tent
you may be longing, like me, for that new body.
You may be longing to claim that
 promise of no more sorrow and no more pain
and to have those final tears wiped away with nail-scarred Hands.
But, today, my tears are of thankfulness and joy.
My six month lab work shows,
for the second time in a row,
no thyroid antibodies in my blood.
When cancer is active,
your body naturally produces antibodies to fight it.
My three tumors haven’t grown, according to the previous sonogram,
so things are being held at bay.
Through seven years of cancer, He’s never failed me.
I have failed to believe Him,
but He hasn’t failed me.
He is faithful.

With God, I Scaled Two Walls

Have you ever criticized people for behavior then later find yourself sportin’ that same attitude?  Criticism kinda’ sneaks out of your heart in viperous form, then eventually slithers back to bite you.

I just ate some of that viperous humble pie.

One of my strengths and beliefs as a Mom has been to play with my kids.  I slept outside with them in tents and on the trampoline.  We made forts inside.  We played raft.  We went on teddy bear picnics.  We played games.  We built Barbie houses and Lego creations. We slid down the slide on waxed paper.  We made snow cones out of real snow. 

From the time they were young I declared we had to do One Fun Thing a Day because I knew my Martha attitude could seriously use up every moment of the day with housework and homework.

I used to inwardly admonish the non-playing moms; the ones who sat silent on the sidelines, not playing, not jumping, not pretending, not praising.  I was usually the only mom sliding, pushing, tagging, rolling and giggling.

Not anymore.  Seven years of papillary thyroid cancer has taken a toll on my strength and stamina. Sometimes it just affects my mental attitude, because cancer goes where ever I go.  It has no respect for personal space.

During a sun break, that magical time when the sun appears just long enough to give PNW’ers hope that summer will eventually show up, I took Rebekah to a park.  After walking what seemed to be a mile through “protected natural grasslands” on a boardwalk, we arrived at the glorious castle-like play area.  I was already tired, my heart racing a little,  I had to sit down on a bench.

 After a rest, I walked over to give her a push on this tire swing. The little girls who were next sweetly asked, “Will you please push us, too?” 

Heart-broken, I walked away pretending I didn’t hear them.  I had just enough strength for my little girl, not enough for someone else’s.

It was while I was resting and silently watching Rebekah climb the wall my viperous criticisms returned to bite me.  It never occured to me that moms might be sitting on the sidelines of the park because they don’t feel well enough to play – physically, emotionally, or mentally. 

Criticism doesn’t leave room for compassion or understanding.  It puts yourself forward as the example, the expert, the law.  The only problem is, when we criticize, we eventually fail our own standards. After we fall, we wipe the dirt from the world off our hands,  bandage our wounds, and rise up with compassion and understanding.

Beka, wanted to try a new trick, master a new skill. Strengthened by the humble pie I had just eaten and the rest I had received sitting and thinking, I had to try.

Beka likes being on the other side of the lens for once.
She cheered me on…
….and enjoyed my minor victory.
I felt like I had won an Olympic Gold Medal.
The four years olds who scaled the wall that day were much quicker,
but that didn’t matter.
I had made it to the two foot top.
Psalm 18:29
“With my God I can scale a wall.”
*************
Cancer Update:
My three month bloodwork came back with news I haven’t heard in about five years.  My thyroglobulin and thyroglobulin antibodies were both undetectable.  You don’t have to understand the medical explanation – but it’s good news.


I will have a sonogram in June to check on the three cancer tumors that decided to grow back right after my second surgery two years ago. 

My Vitamin D is low, which attibutes to some of the fatigue I am experiencing.

But for today, I will rise up on the wings of rejoicing for some good news.

Psalm 18:29
“With my God I can scale a wall.

With God, I Scaled Two Walls

Have you ever criticized people for behavior then later find yourself sportin’ that same attitude?  Criticism kinda’ sneaks out of your heart in viperous form, then eventually slithers back to bite you.

I just ate some of that viperous humble pie.

One of my strengths and beliefs as a Mom has been to play with my kids.  I slept outside with them in tents and on the trampoline.  We made forts inside.  We played raft.  We went on teddy bear picnics.  We played games.  We built Barbie houses and Lego creations. We slid down the slide on waxed paper.  We made snow cones out of real snow. 

From the time they were young I declared we had to do One Fun Thing a Day because I knew my Martha attitude could seriously use up every moment of the day with housework and homework.

I used to inwardly admonish the non-playing moms; the ones who sat silent on the sidelines, not playing, not jumping, not pretending, not praising.  I was usually the only mom sliding, pushing, tagging, rolling and giggling.

Not anymore.  Seven years of papillary thyroid cancer has taken a toll on my strength and stamina. Sometimes it just affects my mental attitude, because cancer goes where ever I go.  It has no respect for personal space.

During a sun break, that magical time when the sun appears just long enough to give PNW’ers hope that summer will eventually show up, I took Rebekah to a park.  After walking what seemed to be a mile through “protected natural grasslands” on a boardwalk, we arrived at the glorious castle-like play area.  I was already tired, my heart racing a little,  I had to sit down on a bench.

 After a rest, I walked over to give her a push on this tire swing. The little girls who were next sweetly asked, “Will you please push us, too?” 

Heart-broken, I walked away pretending I didn’t hear them.  I had just enough strength for my little girl, not enough for someone else’s.

It was while I was resting and silently watching Rebekah climb the wall my viperous criticisms returned to bite me.  It never occured to me that moms might be sitting on the sidelines of the park because they don’t feel well enough to play – physically, emotionally, or mentally. 

Criticism doesn’t leave room for compassion or understanding.  It puts yourself forward as the example, the expert, the law.  The only problem is, when we criticize, we eventually fail our own standards. After we fall, we wipe the dirt from the world off our hands,  bandage our wounds, and rise up with compassion and understanding.

Beka, wanted to try a new trick, master a new skill. Strengthened by the humble pie I had just eaten and the rest I had received sitting and thinking, I had to try.

Beka likes being on the other side of the lens for once.
She cheered me on…
….and enjoyed my minor victory.
I felt like I had won an Olympic Gold Medal.
The four years olds who scaled the wall that day were much quicker,
but that didn’t matter.
I had made it to the two foot top.
Psalm 18:29
“With my God I can scale a wall.”
*************
Cancer Update:
My three month bloodwork came back with news I haven’t heard in about five years.  My thyroglobulin and thyroglobulin antibodies were both undetectable.  You don’t have to understand the medical explanation – but it’s good news.


I will have a sonogram in June to check on the three cancer tumors that decided to grow back right after my second surgery two years ago. 

My Vitamin D is low, which attibutes to some of the fatigue I am experiencing.

But for today, I will rise up on the wings of rejoicing for some good news.

Psalm 18:29
“With my God I can scale a wall.

Good News and Bad News

Isn’t that just the way life is? 
There is always good news,
and there is always bad news.
We like to hear the good news first,
it gives us a sense of preparation for the inevitable.
The good news has to do with my own cancer.
(last cancer post)
I just received results from three month labwork,
and my Thyroid Stimulating Hormone (TSH) is lower.
Not as low as we want it, but it lowered enough to make us happy.
We don’t want the thyroid stimulated,
because any thyroid cells are cancer cells.
We want them to chill out.
My thyroid antibodies are very, very low.
This is very, very good. 
Everything indicates my three small thryoid tumors are not growing.
To accomplish this, we boosted my dosage of  artificial thyroid hormone, Levoxyl,
after my last three month blood work when the TSH had been slowly rising.
Being hyperthyroid is a bit challenging.
I am a bit more jittery and easily startled.
It affects my sleep a little, and I am either hot or cold.
If you are too high, you can cause damage to your body.
If you are too low, you create an environment that grows cancer.
It’s like standing in the middle of an old-fashioned teeter-totter,
 trying not to slam one side down too hard.
I also am low on calcium and vitamin D,
so I need to improve on my vitamin taking regime.
My bloodwork and a sonogram will be repeated in three months to check the tumors.
The verse the Lord gave me for my third cancer journey.
As happy as I am about my news,
I feel  guilty and grieved when I face the news my friend Carrie just received.
She had an itchy mole on her back about two months ago.
She was wise enough to see a dermatologist.
invasive malignant melanoma
She is a homeschooling mommy of four who longs to be a gramma someday.
I have so cherished the encouragement and prayers of my blogging community,
it brings  a sense of hope and encouragement to my cancer life.
So, I ask you to add one more name to your prayers and your heart,
Carrie.
She is married to Todd, they have Ellen, Ben, Matthew and Olivia.

I Peter 4: 19
“Let those who suffer
according to the will of God
commit their souls to Him
in doing good,
as to a faithful Creator.”
If it was the will of the Father,
for the Son to suffer for me,
then I accept the will of the Father,
for me to suffer for the Son.
You may not feel like your trials are as big as cancer,
but they still are trials.
It isn’t a contest.
Trials are allowed by the Lord,
and are for our good and glorification.
Anything big enough to cause you to worry,
is big enough to pray about.
May you have strength for your trials,
a song in your heart,
and praise on your lips.
Brethren, be streadfast, immovable, always abounding
in the work of the Lord.
Thank you for praying.
Philippians 1:3
“I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.”

Cancer Update

I’ve been waiting weeks for the lab results concerning the thyroid cancer discovered in January 2010 – my third occurance in five years.  (I had a surgery June 05 to remove cancerous thyroid and lymph nodes and had my second surgery April 09 to remove two small cancerous tumors.)

In February , after weeks of preparation,  my body rejected radio-active iodine as a treatment. Since the neck is a fragile area and I already have much scar tissue and nerve damage, surgery is not an option.  Leaving the tumors alone is the only option at this point.

I had my three month blood draw July 7th and my six month sonogram August 3rd.  I got the results yesterday because I finally called the doctor and asked for them. I’m not sure why she isn’t as anxious as I am to talk through the results, but the last few visits I have had to wait weeks and finally call for the results.  Since this is my third endocrinologist, I have decided that her other strengths outweigh this fault.

Part of me wasn’t in any hurry to call, because I didn’t really want to deal with it. Sometimes, I just need a break, so I take it. Part of me wasn’t in a hurry because I felt peace about the answer, trusting there was no urgency.
It is mostly good news.

The ultrasound revealed tumors are not growing, nor are there new ones.  We are thanking the Lord for this good news.

My Thyroid Stimulating Hormone continues to edge up, little by little.  We don’t want TSH stimulating the thyroid cells, because my thyroid cells are cancer cells.  So, to fight back the TSH we have to increase the artificial thyroid hormone, Levoxyl.

Higher hormones in a woman? Just saying those two words in the same sentence – hormones and woman – is scary enough.

Hyperthyroidism can cause irritation, headaches, lack of sleep and a lot of other fun symptoms.  From Endocrine Web:

“Because the body’s metabolism is increased, patients often feel hotter than those around them and can slowly lose weight even though they may be eating more. Patients with hyperthyroidism usually experience fatigue at the end of the day, but have trouble sleeping. Trembling of the hands and a hard or irregular heartbeat (called palpitations) may develop. These individuals may become irritable and easily upset. When hyperthyroidism is severe, patients can suffer shortness of breath, chest pain, and muscle weakness. In older people, some or all of the typical symptoms of hyperthyroidism may be absent, and the patient may just lose weight or become depressed.”

I’m all for the weight loss, if it will come from that little roll that hangs over my waistband every time I sit down, but the rest of it can be challenging.  For someone who can tend to be a little crabby anyway, OK, a lot of crabby, adding medically induced irritation is just not pretty. I tend to react to increased dosage with lack of sleep and increased headaches.

The dosage was increased slightly three months ago, but not enough, the TSH still rose a bit.  We will increase the dosage again, and check the blood in three months.

I have to admit, I am a little nervous, and am praying very specifically about the side-effects of the increase.

My doctor is  concerned about the adjustment, as well,  and wants me to let her know if the dosage causes symptoms I can’t tolerate.

My husband laughingly decided that he gets to be the determining factor for the results of the medication increase.

This plaque that has been sitting on my desk since I first found out my cancer was back for the third time.

I’m still counting on the Lord’s plans in this all. I cherish being continually transformed into the image of His Son, that is my spiritual goal through cancer.

But, I have to be honest.  This time I would love His plan to be to decrease the belly fat without increasing the crabbiness.

However, with or without the belly fat, I will be prospered, not harmed and have an eternal future.

I have hope

Hebrews 6:19
…the hope we have as an anchor of the soul,
both sure and stedfast…

It’s That Time Again

It’s that time again.
I had my six month routine blood work
to find out the status of the cancer
that has staked a claim on my body
with squatter’s rights.
In a few weeks, I will have a sonogram.
I always feel a little apprehensive,
so I commit my concerns to the Lord in prayer,
and try not to take it back out of His hands with worry.
But, I always know,
that little band-aid on my arm,
could be the beginning of another life change for me.
As I was leaving, my endocrinologist cheered me on,
as she is good at doing,
by complimenting
“You’re such a brave young woman.”
The good news is, 
she thinks I am young.
But, the brave part,
I’m not sure about.
I appreciate her warmth and her encouragement,
but I am not brave.
I just have cancer.
People with bravery
rescue other people from drowning and car wrecks.
Brave people jump out of airplanes,
climb Mount Everest,
 live in the jungles as a missionary,
and walk on the moon.
I am not brave by character,
my situation forces bravery
because the only alternative
to living with cancer,
if you can’t be cured,
is dying with it.
So, if that is all it takes to be brave,
I hope she calls me brave for
many,
many,
many years.
I would like to someday be a
“brave, old woman.”
So, my heart and mind are swirling
with prayers and scenarios,
as I consider what the future might hold,
because,
it’s that time again.

Not Scarred by the Scar

(These events occurred after my second surgery for papillary thyroid carcinoma in April  2009.)

A few weeks before my surgery, my 13-year-old son, Jon, was a little more excited about the upcoming event than me.

He enthusiastically commented, “Yea, cool, mom, so are you nervous? Like they’re going to go in there and slash you open and look for the cancer!”

I bit my tongue, for about five seconds, then calmly informed Jon that I was his mom, I loved him and I didn’t take offense, but warned him against speaking that way to any other cancer/surgery patients. I’m not sure if he got it or not.

My husband, Scott, was a little more dramatic when I first removed the cool white foam neck guard and dared look at the 6 1/2 inch scar, that extended more than half way around my neck and up to my right ear.

  

 

“Wow, you look like you got ripped open with a chain-saw!”

He did have a clever solution later, when we discussed the near-certain probability of future surgeries. “Hey, they should have just put in a zipper, so instead of another surgery, we could just zip it open, take out the cancer and zip it back shut.”

Why didn’t my doctor think of that?

Another comment came on Sunday morning during coffee break at church.  My always-laughing friend, Betty, admired my scar and said, “They really sliced you open this time!”

It really was fair game. When she came to church with a band-aid on her nose covering the spot where they removed skin cancer I glibly asked her if she cut herself shaving.

I guess we’re even.

After my 6-year old daughter, Rebekah, got used to the scar, she had news for me.

“You know what it looks like Mom? Let me show you!”

She dug around in the scissors drawer until she came back with this pair and held them up triumphantly. She asked me if the doctor used scissors to open up my neck. We must not have satisfied her curiosity, because a few days  later she questioned us further.

“Did they use a plastic knife or a sharp knife?

I needed clarification. “Do you mean when they cut me open for surgery?”

“Yes.”

Daddy decided to add his expert commentary. “They used a sharp knife.”

Beka, “Oh, a sharp plastic knife?”

Mom, “No, a sharp metal knife. It is called a scalpel. It’s sharp so it doesn’t hurt. They use it once and throw it away.”

“Oh.”

I have been thankful that we have been able to communicate about something that is horrible and scary – cancer. Teasing and joking are acceptable methods of dealing with stress, and I am thankful my kids and husband  felt comfortable enough to tease me.  That is normal for us.  Normal feels good.

The scar doesn’t bother me. I don’t cover it with a scarf, I don’t cover it with makeup.   Maybe because I’m happily marrried and my husband doesn’t care. Maybe because I am getting wrinkled and gray and one more flaw can’t make that much of a difference. It also helps that at 5 foot 2 inches, I am shorter than most people and they are looking down on me and don’t really see my neck.

I also look at my scar as a symbol of overcoming.  The Lord has been my strength and my song, and many prayers have padded the rocky road with peace and comfort. A nurse told me to wear it proudly, because I was alive.

I loved the saying on this framed text in an antique store – not enough to buy it, just enough to photograph it.

By the way, I consider this photo spiritual foreshadowing.  I saw this two weeks before I found out my cancer had returned.  The Lord was preparing my heart.

It Was Just A Little Lump

My husband and I had just moved from the Midwest to the Pacific Northwest with our six kids. In the midst of all the chaos my oldest daughter began suffering with daily headaches and I was plagued with a neck ache. It hurt to sleep, it hurt to stand, it hurt to sit with this nagging pain. We found a chiropractor in the new neighborhood and began going several times a week for adjustments.

In October 2004, after one of the treatments, I was massaging my relieved neck when I found it.

It was just a little lump.

Just a tiny little lump on the upper right side of my neck.

I showed my husband and we began the daily task of feeling the lump. It grew over time.

I found a primary care physician. She felt the lump and called for a sonogram.They found a second lump on the thyroid. My journey had officially begun.

At the beginning of December I had a neck CT, which led to a fine-needle aspiration biopsy in January.  It came back negative. Doubtful, my doctor sent me to an Endocrinologist and an Ear, Nose and Throat doctor (ENT). She didn’t want me to give up. She only said, “I’m just not comfortable. There are two lumps for a reason.”

The first ENT I visited blew me off after a quick check to my neck. She said she couldn’t even find the lump. She suggested coming back every six months.

When my Endocrinologist repeated this to me I was a bit annoyed.

“Even my husband can find it! He checks it every day to see if it has grown, or if it is throbbing.”

Sarcastically he said, “Oh, is your husband a doctor?”

“No, and that is exactly my point. If he isn’t a doctor and he can find it, she should be able to.”

I found a new ENT, he was able to find the lump.  Each step took so long because it was hard to get in as a new patient to so many different doctors. Sometimes I had to wait 6-8 weeks just for the next appointment.

By the time my Endocrinologist took me seriously and did his own biopsy on my neck it was May.

On the way to find the results of the second biopsy,  I pulled out of my driveway and was immediately filled with the Presence of the Lord.  It was a surreal peace and comfort, the kind you read about in books.  Bible verses I had previously memorized began flooding my mind, “I am with thee and will keep thee in all places, sayeth the Lord,”  and “For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

At that moment, I knew I had cancer. I also knew that I would not be on the journey alone. When I had trusted Christ as my Saviour at 18, I had committed to Him my entire heart, mind, soul and body. I was not about to rescind any part of that committment despite the circumstances.

The lumps turned out to be papillary thyroid carcinoma that had metasticized.  A total thyroidectomy and a radical neck dissection were performed June 2005 in a six hour surgery.   Only 1 of the 30 lymph nodes had cancer.  The doctors thought the  100 mCi’s dose of radioactive iodine in August would be the final step in my treatment.

In September I found new little lumps.  Just little tiny lumps that my fingertips discovered when doing my ritual “neck-check.”  My journey wasn’t over.

They watched and waited and watched and waited.  In April 2009 they went back in for another surgery for those little lumps.

In October 2009 I was declared in remission.

In January 2010 my sonogram revealed – you guessed it –

three

little

lumps.

These little, less than a centimeter lumps are unwanted invaders, a cancer that cannot be conquered. The testing this time eliminated radioactive iodine as a treatment, because my body did not take in the tracer dose given.  Surgery is not an encouraged at this time because you can only have so many neck surgeries in a lifetime, and I have already used two of my options.

So, we watch, we wait and we hope and pray they don’t grow.

Because they’re just little lumps of papillary thyroid carcinoma.