Nothing is as it seems to be

What had started out as a routine small operation became a nightmare. During a medical check-up , a small lump was discovered on my thyroid. I was in my early thirties with a very busy household of 5 children, a dairy farm of 45 cows and staff. I was on the run from morning till night, very fit and strong, with a love of running and fast sports. I played squash at least 4 times a week with a nimble-footed friend.

At  an  emotional  level,  which  I  now  understand,  I  was  in  the  process  of  growing  up.  I  could  not  always  have everything  my  way,  and  the  little  girl  in  me  got  quite  angry.  My  social  mask  was  firmly  in  place  as  the  capable, dependable  mother  and  wife.  I  now  know  that  my  thyroid  was  most  probably  reacting  to  the  suppression  of  my anger  which  I  felt  from  time  to  time,  as  an  immature  person  would.  I  never  voiced  my  displeasure.  I  became  a wonderful ‘coper’. The thyroid is an indicator of this!

My doctor put the medical assessment of the lump on fast forward and before I knew it I was booked to have part of the thyroid removed. As a side note, not one professional person enquired about me; the focus was my throat, as if the rest of me did not exist. Today I know that communication often leads to spontaneous reversal of thyroid imbalances.

I  made all  the  arrangements  for kids  and cows  to  be  taken care of  in  my absence  and presented  myself,  with  full confidence as in those days, to the skill of the cancer surgeon. I would later learn that the operation went horribly wrong.  I  had  cardiac  arrest  during  the  procedure  but  survived  it.  My  vocal  chord  was  cut,  my  oesophagus  was crushed. I left the operating room blissfully unaware of the drama. After ten days I was sent home without anyone breathing a word of caution about heart damage or some such.

I  coughed  and  coughed  for  months.  Daily  I  choked  as  the  paralyzed  vocal  chord  and  the  crushed  cartilage  in  the oesophagus collapsed. I could not talk, or smile, or swallow any food or drink with ease. After 4 months of this daily torture, I went to see the surgeon who announced that I was neurotic and should take a holiday. As he is not with us  on  earth  any  longer,  I  wish  his  soul  to  rest  at  peace,  which  I  am  sure  he  did  not  experience  much  of  while  he dealt with his conscience.

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